I settle back on my bed.Yeah, I’m good. Why?
Didn’t hear from you.
Just fell asleep,I write.
Okay,he texts back.
So Mel wants me to come over?
Only if you want to.
I’m not entirely sure I want to see Luke again today, so soon after our camping trip, but how can I say no to Mel?
I hop in the shower, wash my hair, and break out one of the summery dresses I haven’t had much time to wear. I hear Mom humming in my parents’ bedroom.I stick my head in the doorway and tell her I’m popping over to the Cohen house.
“I thought you’d have a quiet night at home for a change,” she says.
“I’m just going to see—”
“Melanie. I know,” she says, looking up from the magazine she’s reading in bed. Everything from the mattress to the bed frame has been replaced in the past couple of weeks. “But you just got home. You’ve worked all week, and you’re over there so much to begin with. I thought we were past you spending every waking minute in that house.”
My head spins in confusion. “Mel wants to see me.”
“I think she understands your having a life that includes more than just her.”
I stare at my mother, trying to figure out what’s going on. There’s a strange bitterness in her voice, like I’m doing something wrong by spending all this time with Mel.
“I’ll be back soon,” I assure her, and shut the door before she can offer any more resistance.
The whole way I’m driving to Mel and Luke’s, I can’t get the weirdness of my mother’s reaction out of my mind. Mel is dying. Mom knows this; she knows I didn’t see Mel at all after Ro died, and she knows how guilty that makes me feel. She should get why spending time with Mel is a priority for me.
As a kid, one of my favorite things to do was imagine that Mel was my mother. I imagined having her flowing black hair, her raspy voice, her double-jointed elbows. This was something I told no one, but now, for the first time, I wonder if my mother knew. I wonder if some days, in the dark of her room, she was thinking about the secrets I’d told Mel, thinking that it was Mel’s phone voice I imitated, Mel’s clothes I played dress-up in, the sight of Mel’s tears and not her own that could make me dissolve into a puddle.
The thought of this—the possibility that my closeness with Mel might bother my mother—floors me. For most of my life, it felt like she hardly even noticed it.
“What’s wrong?” is the first thing Luke says when he opens the door for me.
I shake my head, trying to snap out of my daze. “Just something with my mom.”
One of his brows skirts up. “Another bad spell?”
“Not exactly,” I say, but don’t elaborate. I slide past him into the foyer and then go into the living room.
“Hey, Mel! Sorry I didn’t come sooner. I wiped out after our trip.”
Mel gives me a puzzled look. “Come sooner?”
“Yeah, you wanted to see me?” I throw Luke a worried look, but his face is impassive. Is Mel starting to lose her memory?
“You said Jessi knows how to make your red velvet cupcakes, remember?” he says.
“Hmm ... but that was days ago,” Mel says. “Or maybe I’m losing track of time. It all kind of blends together after a while.”
“That’s okay,” I say. I glance at Luke again, but he doesn’t seem worried, so I try not to be either. “You want me to whip up some cupcakes?”
“If you’re up for it, that would be amazing. Though I have to be honest, I might take one bite and not be able to get down any more. And it won’t be because of your baking.”
I laugh. “You have too much confidence in me.”
