“I said, ‘You saw Jessi?’ He goes, ‘She works there too.’ As if you didn’t plan it out like that so you could work together.”
“Yeah, uh, sorry,” I say lamely when Luke says nothing. “I’m going to go now, Mel,” I say, leaning down to hug her. When I was little, I used to squeeze her as if she were oxygen and I was running out of air, but now I’m tentative and cautious, not wanting to hurt her.
“Bye Jessi-girl,” she says.
“I’ll walk you out,” Luke says as I straighten. We head out of the house in silence, and once we’re on the porch again, the air feels weighted.
“So we should probably figure out schedules,” he says now. “Like, so we’re seeing each other as often as ...peoplewould.”
“Oh,” I say. “Okay.”
I realize we’re doing this. We’re really going to pretend to be together to make Mel happy.
Luke was right, though; it’s the least I can do.
He leans back against the side of the house. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“Helping out at the club.” I’m hoping I don’t have to specify which club, but he knows.
“The night after that?”
“Thursday I’m working at All Saints. And Saturday afternoons, too.”
He frowns. “Why do you work so much?”
He asks, but we both know he doesn’t care what my answer is, so I don’t offer one.
“How’s Friday night then?” he asks. “We can meet up at eight, act like we did dinner, and then come back here to see her.”
I nod. “That works.”
“Okay,” he says, straightening.
“Well, good night,” I say, then turn and walk back to my car. I feel Luke’s gaze on me the whole time as I get in, start the car, and pull out onto the road, and it makes my stomach flutter. I’m guessing he waits out there long enough for Mel to think he walked me out, kissed me good night, and waited until I drove home.
Seeing Mel, along with all the pretending tonight, has taken its toll on me, and I feel heavy and sad as I enter my house. The lights are on in the living room, and I’m surprised to see Mom in there, working on her laptop.
“Sweetheart!” she says brightly when she sees me. “How was your day?”
“Good,” I say.
“Good?” she repeats skeptically, and I’m surprised that she can see right through me. After all the years of living together but existing in separate universes, I’m used to my mother knowing exactly nothing about me. It catches me off-guard to realize that this new version of her is starting to know me well enough to read me, to recognize my moods. It makes me feel strangely grateful, and I try not to think about it going away again.
Mom looks pleased when I come and sit on the couch beside her.
“Not so good,” I admit. “I had dinner with Mel today—”
“And?” she prompts.
I tell my mother how weak Mel looked, how guilty I feel for missing so much of the end of her life. My parents think I just drifted away from the other Cohens after Rowan died, and I don’t ever intend to tell them otherwise. I also don’t mention the added guilt I feel about going along with Luke’s plan to lie to his mother. I doubt Mom would approve of us faking a relationship just to make Mel happy.
“No matter how much time you lost the past year, the important thing is that you’re back now,” Mom says, taking my hand. “You know, I reached out to my parents a while ago, when I started therapy.”
“Did they respond?” I ask.
She looks sad when she shakes her head. “I didn’t expect them to, to be honest,” she says. “We left things in a pretty ugly place. But I remember thinking when I sent that email that I no longer care what happened, or how long it’s been, or how much they hurt me with their absence. I just wanted to try again with them. I wanted them to see me now, to know the person I’ve become. To know my beautiful daughter.” She brushes her hand over my cheek. “And I’m sure that’s how Mel felt. When you miss someone enough, it doesn’t matter how much time has passed.”
I swallow. “What ever happened between you and your parents?” When I was really little, I used to think my mom was an orphan. I even invented a story in my head that that was why she was so sad all the time. Then I got older and realized that her parents were alive and that her unhappiness stemmed from something deeper.
