Sarah’s eyes went straight to her mother. “I didn’t know you had trouble getting pregnant.”
“Oh yes, we wanted children two years apart, but it didn’t work out. And then he was gone.”
Sarah had never explained her own fertility issues to her mother, not wanting to cause her more anxiety. She had said that she and Danny didn’t want kids, because it seemed easier to surprise Maureen with good news rather than constantly tormenting her with bad news. Now she felt the loss of an opportunity to connect.
She watched her mother standing stock still, frozen in place in the kitchen for a moment, before she collected herself and opened the cabinet to get out the mugs. Sarah hadn’t seen her mother entirely happy since her father was alive. It was a wonder that Sarah had ever found the courage to fall in love at all, growing up in a house where this was the devastation that followed when you lost someone.
She felt Ren watching her.
“And this?” he asked, pointing to a young toddler doing an awkward somersault.
“You know who that is. That’s the groom from this weekend’s wedding.”
He smiled at the tiny image of Paul. “He’s exactly the same.”
“He was always hilarious. And very sweet. I’m glad he’s acting again, even if it’s just improv.”
“Me, too.” Ren gave her a look, something mischievous in his eyes. “So I know we have to get on the road soon, but I will never forgive myself if I don’t ask you a question.”
“Oh, no.”
“Do you have a childhood bedroom with your stuff still in it?”
She sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”
She pushed open the door to her bedroom, a small space off the downstairs hallway, and stood back for Ren. He entered with the focus of an anthropologist, standing in the middle of the room to take it all in. Her mother had left a few in-progress crochet and knitting projects on her desk and bed, but the rest was the same: the fantasy novels, the Tim Burton movie poster, the Belle and Sebastian and Elliot Smith CDs.
“Just say it,” she said. “Get it out of your system.”
“There is no way I can say anything while my brain is storing up every single detail to memory.”
“Okay, okay.”
“This is so perfectly you. This is the you I first met.”
He walked to her bookshelf, looking at the classics from college tucked between rows of science fiction paperbacks.
“Anne McCaffreyandAnne Rice.” His voice was full of laughter.
“I’m sure you spent high school reading Kafka. You once told me that you refused to read anything written after 1980 because you weren’t sure if it would stand the test of time.”
Ren gave her a mischievous look. “I was trying to impress you. I read plenty of Terry Pratchett growing up.”
“Oh my God, Ren, if you tell me that your entire intellectual snob thing was an act…”
“It wasn’t an act,” he replied. “I just exaggerated it around girls.”
“Now I want to see photos of your childhood bedroom.”
“It’s been turned into my father’s office,” he said. “You’ll never get the dirt on me or my movie poster ofMagnolia.”
She smiled, finally. “Okay, enough, get out. I need to dig through my drawers to see if I have any clothes that I can use for this trip. I didn’t bring the right clothes for a photography workshop when I was packing for a wedding. So you are not allowed to judge me if I spend this week wearing Pearl Jam T-shirts.”
“I was going to stop and buy you more clothes, but now I don’t want to.” He was giving her such an affectionate look that she fell silent. That gaze felt unfair. He had no right to look at her like that, not without apologizing…not without him giving her the apology that she had insisted she didn’t want.
“Your tea’s ready, Rene,” came her mother’s voice. “You said milk, right? I hope milk is okay because I don’t have any cream.”
“Milk is great!” Ren called. The moment was broken. Sarah let out a relieved sigh when he headed back to the kitchen.
