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Nick shrugs. “That’s human nature, Ally. Imagine if everything she said to you, she was really saying to herself.”
“So you’re a psychiatrist now?”
“No, but I think I saw a meme that said something like that on Facebook.” He smiles wryly and reaches for me. I go, even though I’m a little bit annoyed by his laidback manner, because I need to be held and part of me at least knows he is right. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard to hear all that from her. This whole thing is hard.” He exhales wearily. “Just when I feel like we’re making progress, there’s another setback. But it’s definitely two steps forward, one step back, and not the other way around.”
“And if she doesn’t go back to Harvard? Or college at all?”
His arms tighten around me. “Then she doesn’t.”
I twist up to look at him. “Do you really believe that?”
“I’m trying to. Like I said, it’s hard. But dropping out of college is not the end of the world.”
“I know it’s a first-world problem,” I say a bit grumpily. “I am aware. But it’s different when it’s us, our child.”
“I know.”
I close my eyes as I rest my cheek against his chest, his heart thudding under my jawbone. “She might have been saying it to herself, but she was saying it to me, too. Maybe I have been too pushy.”
“Maybe,” Nick agrees, which stings, “but so what? Lots of parents are pushy, especially in this part of the country. Everyone wants their kid in an Ivy League. It wasn’t like you were actually cracking the whip, and Emma could never doubt that we both love her.”
“So you think she should have just got over it?”
“No.” Nick sighs. “I don’t know what I think. Only that we all love each other, and we’re all trying to help each other, and that should count for something.”
“Yes.” Except right now it feels like it doesn’t.
“There isn’t an instant fix,” Nick says gently.
“I know.” Even if I want one. I tell myself to take things in my stride, not to get so hurt when Emma is deliberately trying to wound me. To understand the disappointment that she’s so desperately trying to hide. On an intellectual level, I can absolutely appreciate all of that. But on an emotional level, it’s a kick to the gut every time. “I’m trying,” I say, and Nick kisses my hair.
“I know.”
“I’ve been so consumed with thinking about Emma, I forget to think about Josh,” I say on a sigh. Today has been an Emma day; yesterday was a Josh one, when he came home more monosyllabic than usual, if such a thing was possible. I tried to engage him, as I have been trying since this whole thing blew up, and he told me to leave him alone before slamming up to his room.
“You can’t take the whole world on your shoulders,” Nick says, which feels just a little bit too trite in this moment.
“I’m not, just two children.”
“Three,” he reminds me, and I close my eyes. Dylan, at least, has been easy.
The next morning, I wake up feeling weary but determined to do better today. I get Josh and Dylan off to school, and Nick to work, and Emma still hasn’t come downstairs. I clean the kitchen and do a load of laundry, check my work emails, and try not to feel anxious. Should I check on her? What if…? But it’s only a little after nine.
Then, as I am making a shopping list, she comes into the kitchen. She’s still in her pajamas, sporting a case of bedhead, looking sleepy and warm. She reminds me of when she was three or four, and she’d come downstairs with her arms out and I’d scoop her up and take her to the sofa. We’d cuddle quietly for twenty minutes or so before the day had to start. Those days passed in a blur of exhaustion and yet right now they seem so easy. So sweet.
“Good morning,” I say as cheerfully as I can, but the words sound stilted.
Then Emma comes over, her arms held out just like when she was a child. And she puts them around me, burying her head in my shoulder, and all my hurt and fear crumbles to nothing, absolutely nothing. I wrap my arms around her and we stay like that for a minute or more, a silent hug that we both desperately needed.
It’s broken when my cell phone rings, and Emma straightens, even though I don’t want her to. I’m happy to ignore the call, but Emma has already moved away and I see it’s Josh’s high school.
I am in an emotional limbo between the sweetness of the hug and the worry of the call as I answer. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Fielding?”
“Yes—”
“You need to come to school right away, please.”
