She finally notices Jack beside me, holding our bag of popcorn. “What’s your name?”
“This is my friend, Jerrid,” I tell her, and I can practically feel Jack rolling his eyes, but before he can correct me, my phone vibrates in my hand. I look down at the screen and see my mom’s name. “My mom’s calling,” I say. “I need to take this.”
Holden and Wren formally introduce themselves to Jack—since they didn’t get much of a chance at the hospital—as I answer the phone, but I know Wren has her attention split between him and me.
“Hey, Mom. We’re at a candy apple booth by the library. Where are you?”
I know what she’s about to say before she even starts speaking, just by the sound of her sigh. “Honey, I’m sorry. Grandma is having a rough day, and I don’t think she can handle the crowds. We’re going to have to stay home.”
Disappointment sweeps through me, but I shake myself out of it, guilty that I’m upset about something out of everyone’s control. There’s a rock beneath my foot, and I push it around the dirt with the toe of my boot before saying, “I’ll take Jack home and head there to help you guys. I can bring dinner.”
I can feel Wren’s eyes lock on me, but I don’t look up.
“No,” Mom says, and I’m surprised by the forcefulness of her tone. “Stay there. Have fun. We have everything under control here.”
“Mom, really, I can—”
“No, Stevie.”
The words echo in my ear for a moment, harsher than I’m sure she intended, and I blink at the ground, trying to figure out what to say. I can hear the stress in her voice, feel it through the phone. I imagine her at home, ducked in the pantry to call me, somewhere quiet so she doesn’t disturb Grandma. There’s an ache in my chest, spreading outward at the vision of it because I know she wishes she could be here, that though she would never complain, she has to miss the simplicity of her life before her mother-in-law moved in with her. My parents haven’t missed the Harvest Festival in over thirty years, and I hate that this is just another thing that has changed. That it, too, has slipped away without my permission.
“Okay, Mom,” I say. “Just call me if you need me.”
“We’re fine, Stevie. I promise.” Her voice is softer now, like she’s intentionally subduing it for my sake. “Don’t worry about us.”
“Yeah, okay.”
She says goodbye and ends the call, and I stare at my phone for another minute before returning to the conversation with my friends. Holden and Jack are talking about something, but Wren’s gaze is on me.
“My parents aren’t coming,” I tell her. “Grandma is having a rough day.”
Her face softens. “I’m sorry, Stevie.”
“My mom said they don’t need anything, but I feel bad. I might just go there anyway.”
A sigh slips out of her, and my eyes snap to hers.
“What?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Nothing.”
“No, tell me.”
I’m not sure why I’m pressing, but I’m disappointed and frustrated, and I’m annoyed at myself for feeling both of those emotions. I’m a grown woman, upset that her parents can’t come spend the day with her.
“Just…” Wren says, chewing on her bottom lip. She looks like she’s choosing her words carefully, and it makes defensiveness claw up my throat, but I swallow it back. “Just enjoy yourself for the day, Stevie. They would ask for help if they needed it.”
My skin feels prickly. I know Wren is right, but she also tends to oversimplify things when it comes to my family. She’s never quite understood why I offer so much of myself to them, and I’ve never been able to explain it.
I don’t know how to respond, but I’m saved from it by the feeling of Jack’s hand on my shoulder, warm and steadying. “We’re next in line.”
I glance at the couple ahead of us, ordering their apples, and then back at Jack. He’s watching me closely, concern written in the lines of his face, and I realize that while he may have been talking with Holden, he was also focused on me. That he sensed my mood change and is giving me an out from my conversation with Wren.
Gratitude blooms like a flower in my stomach, spreading out. I give him a small smile, hoping he can tell that I’m thankful. His hand lingers for another moment on my shoulder before slipping away, but the heat of it persists, tingling beneath my skin like a sunburn.
I turn back to Wren to find her watchful eyes on Jack and I, flicking between the two of us, and I wonder what she sees. What shethinksshe’s seeing. How we look, and what assumptions she’s making.
Because I’m just now realizing whatIwould think, and it sends an awareness sparking through me.
