Page 97 of Pining for You

“See you at the farm, B,” Cash says softly, once Izaac puts the car in park in front of my house.

“Thanks.” I don’t know what else to say. I can’t think clearly. I can’t decide between arguing more or begging for forgiveness.

All I want to do is face-plant on my bed and cry. Suddenly, I am desperate to get out of the car, but I get caught in the seat belt as I’m trying to eject myself from the passenger side.

The belt finally comes loose and I stand, but the camera falls out of my lap and into the street. I let out a neighborhood-awakening “No!” as it bounces farther away from me, because at the same moment, a snowplow is rounding the corner. And then I’m watching my mother’s beloved camera as it is pulverized and kicked five feet in the opposite direction by the giant tires of the truck.

When I turn around to see my friends watching the scene in horror, I can’t stop the explosion of tears. How can this day get any worse?

Diya jumps out of the car and runs directly to the wreckage. “Here, lemme help,” she says.

“Forget it,” I snap. “It’s destroyed. Just forget it.”

Diya ignores this and attempts to collect all the pieces, but I can’t even participate. There’s no point. My future is shattered, and my gift to my friends and my mother’s oldest possession have gone right along with it.

I leave Diya in the street and dash straight for our front door, tears streaming down my face.

28

“Well, look who decided to show up,” Naomi says.

I hoped I could go straight up to my room and hide for the rest of the day, or possibly the rest of my life. But of course this is the time Naomi is actually home, sitting on the old green couch across from Marley and the little picture window. She must have been up waiting for me, because there’s a half-drunk cup of milky coffee and the tail end of a strudel on the table.

“Wow, look at you having actual food. Great job,” I say, and the snark surprises even me.

I’m still shaking from what just happened outside. I can’t believe the camera is in a thousand pieces, ground into the snowy street along with my hopes and dreams.

“Bennie, I don’t know what’s going on with you,” she says, standing. “You’ve always been the one I don’t have to worry about. I don’t have time for it right now, but I will come up with an appropriate punishment for ignoring my messages and worrying me sick. And let’s add to that, your attitude right now.”

It doesn’t feel like a coincidence that the next thing she says is “And I signed you up for the visit tomorrow. I tried to give you a chance to decide for yourself but since you opted to ignore me like a child, I was forced to make the decision for you.”

I’m shaking now, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Shocking.

Instead, she stands and reaches for her coat, which is on the couch waiting for her. I wonder if she ever hung it up when she got home from the bar last night. Or if she even slept in her bed. Maybe she just passed out from exhaustion right there on the couch. She’s looking at Marley now, but still says nothing about him, and is obviously about to leave again. “I have to head in, but there’s a pot of coffee on.” She gestures to the kitchen. “See you at the party tonight.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head and surprising myself again.

“I’m sorry? No, what?”

I grab Naomi’s keys from the table.

“Seriously. That’s it. No,” I repeat, all the emotions of the morning bubbling up again in that moment. “You can’t leave. Do you even care where I’ve been or what I’ve been doing? Or why I haven’t answered you?”

My mother sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. “Frankly, Pop-Tart, I didn’t get home until almost three in the morning, and I just got off the phone with your sister, so right now, I’m just glad to know you’re alive and breathing.”

“Alive and breathing?” I say, my pitch rising. “Seriously?”

Naomi looks back at me, speechless. My mother has been on the receiving end of plenty of tirades, but never from me.

“You know every detail about Michelle’s life—her anxieties, her medications, what she does and who she talks to… You have a mental catalog of every time she’s felt an ounce of pain, and you throw a freaking party when she does the most basic thing right. But for me, the standard is just alive and breathing?”

“Bennie, your sister… She needs…”

“My sister needs what? Love? Support? I know. I know she does. But does she need all of it? Have you considered that I might need some love and support too? Maybe a fraction of your attention?”

Now my mother looks hurt, and there’s a part of me that just wants to hug her. That wants her to hug me. But I have Naomi’s attention now, so instead of slowing down, I pick up speed, trying to get it all out before she leaves again.

“Maybe I need to talk to you too sometimes. But how can I when you’re never here except to sleep? You don’t know anything about my life. Like, how I have these applications due next week, and I couldn’t possibly give them an answer as to what my purpose is? Or how about the fact that I got you this tree because you work so much and I wanted you to have something nice—I wanted us to have something nice, together—but you haven’t said a word about it in two days.”