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West sheepishly raises a shoulder. “Ethan helped. Besides, who else is going to change my oil?”
A wetness invades my eyes. I’m touched that they would invest time and energy into something for me. . . not just anything. . . they created something to help me return to what I love.
“Dad wants to get you a new car,” says Ethan.
“I know. ” But that part is more complicated. I won’t lie. It hurts that I won’t be able to drive—for a very long time.
“All right,” says West. “Wasn’t joking on the oil change. Tell me what to do and me and Moron will do it. ”
An adrenaline rush tickles my bloodstream. “Get me that rolling board and help me down. I’m going under the car. ”
* * *
Gloriously covered in grease and oil, I sit on the top of West’s contraption and hover over West as he tries to figure out the oil filter. “This isn’t rocket science. ”
“Says the car genius,” he mumbles.
A clearing of a throat grabs our attention and we all pause when we see Mom in the garage door frame.
West and Ethan share a guilty glance. “Mom,” Ethan says. “We were
just about to bring her back to the house. ”
“Will you boys give Rachel and me a second?”
West wiggles his grimy hands in front of my face and wipes one particularly greasy finger across my cheek. Ethan squeezes my wrist before he leaves. I readjust myself and lean over to inspect West’s work. Not too bad.
“What are you working on?” Mom asks.
I shrug. “Nothing. ”
Mom’s dressed in a pair of gray dress pants and a blue sweater. Dad took me to my appointments this morning while Mom visited Gavin in rehab. Because of the accident, my father’s original plan for Gavin and rehab tanked. But a few weeks ago, Gavin finally entered treatment. “How’s Gavin?”
“Good. He’s worried about you. ” Mom peers into the hood. “Your father said your appointments went well. ”
“Yup. ” It feels odd being here with Mom after lying about my love of cars for so long.
Mom looks at me. She does this now—actually stares at me with her blue eyes and sees me. Not being used to it, I always glance away. Mom tucks a wayward strand of hair over my shoulder. “Gavin and I had a group-therapy appointment today. He promised to not keep secrets like his addiction from me anymore. I thought about it on the way home. I think I want a promise like that from all of you. Secrets have come too close to ruining this family. ”
I pick at my flaking thumbnail. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Gavin. ”
Mom shifts her weight. “I care that you didn’t tell me about you. ”
Confrontation has never been a strong suit for either of us, and I wonder if the silence is killing her like it’s killing me. “You didn’t want to hear it. You wanted me to be Colleen. ”
“Rachel—”
Preferring not to hear her deny it, I stare straight into her eyes. “I spent a good portion of my life overhearing you tell people that you dreamed of me becoming like Colleen. It’s true, so please don’t pretend it isn’t. ”
Mom touches her wedding ring and turns the band. “I wish I could tell you that you weren’t the replacement, but we’d both know that would be a lie. Regardless of what you think, I have always loved you. ”
I fidget with the tools my brothers left on the board. Over the past three months, Mom and I have danced around this issue. “You loved her more. ”
“Not true,” says Mom. “But I do miss her. Too much. I’ve thought about it and think there’s some truth to what you said that night. I loved you, but I don’t think I ever saw you. For that I’m sorry. ”
“It’s okay. ” And it is.
“In my defense, you never gave me the chance to know you. ”
