Page 99 of Pining for You

“So then how can you trust that she’s better this time? What if you’re doing all this for nothing again?”

She nods at this, like she’s asked herself the question before. “Well, I know you know a lot about believing in what you can’t see. But even though this requires belief like that—it also requires work, and patience, and a lot of support. And part of the reason I keep showing up for her is because consistency is important for her recovery. And I borrow a page from your book—I try to be optimistic. That if we keep taking real action to address the problem, we’ll get through it together.”

I try to word my next sentence carefully. I don’t want to make it about me, but like Eve reminded me, I’m a person with needs too. And even though we’re having a real conversation for once, it’s still all about Michelle. I don’t want to end this without saying what I need too.

“You know, consistency is important to me, too,” I say. “Like… our traditions.”

“I know,” Naomi says. “I know what traditions mean to you. And they mean a lot to me, too. I could have done a better job of showing that to you. I put them in place for us as a family so you two would have some stability, things you could rely on and look forward to, and I’m glad that worked. But… I do worry it might have worked too well. Because at some point, traditions can become more about the rituals than the reason we do them—to spend time together. To me, honoring the tradition meant the three of us being together, regardless of where that would be. Now, I understand that may not feel good to you right now, but I want you to understand where I’m coming from, and what I see as the value in tradition.”

“Right,” I say, and remember last night, when I was involved in traditions that weren’t even mine—and yet they felt important.

“You have so many strengths, Pop-Tart, and so much to offer the world. You have this boundless curiosity, and such a beautiful sense of positivity about the world. I never want you to lose those qualities because you’ve been let down. But those qualities can also help you when you’re faced with change and uncertainty like what we’ve been going through. They can help you see the possibility that you’ll find something really great in a new experience, just like you did in the old ones.”

“Yeah,” I say, and as proof of what she’s just said, I tell her, “I had tamales last night.”

“Holy shit, Pop-Tart!” she shouts, and her Southern drawl comes out in force.

“They were amazing,” I say, and we both laugh.

After a moment of calm silence, I speak again. “I don’t know what to do, Mom.” The word Mom surprises even me. I haven’t called her that in ages. It feels more like a plea than a name or a title.

“Well, I think it’s obvious,” she says.

“What?”

“You should eat more tamales!” Naomi jokes. “And bring some for me next time.”

I snort-laugh and it’s a snotty mess.

“But if that’s not what you want… you can have something else. Because you don’t have to do a thing you don’t want to,” she says. There’s a tone of apology in her voice.

“We’re not talking about tamales anymore, are we?”

“No.”

“You know, I do really miss her too,” I say. “Michelle, I mean. That’s not why I’m not sure about going.”

Naomi nods. “I’m sure you do. She’s your sister, after all. You two have a history, and your own bond. You were so close, but I know she hurt you. I can see that she’s trying, and doing her best to get better, but I can also understand how that’s hard to trust a second time. All these things can be true, you know? So let’s let time do some of the heavy lifting. Trust takes time. Learning takes time. And as it passes, you’ll find some of your answers, and you can see how things go without having to rely on my word or Michelle’s. You make your own decisions on your own timeline. If and when you’re ready, we’ll both be there.”

I sigh in relief. I don’t want to disappoint my mom or make her any sadder by not seeing my sister, but I realize now… I’m just not ready for that. And it feels good to admit it.

“But it sounds like you have a lot more on your mind than just Michelle…”

My heart plummets again. My friends. “I was really a total bonehead.”

Naomi laughs, even though I can tell she doesn’t want to, then she stops. “I’m sorry. Tell me about it, if you want to.”

Now that I’m able to breathe again, I do want to. So I tell my mother the whole story. About Eve and the farm, about our day in the city, about blowing up at my friends and how angry I’ve been feeling. I tell her how I’ve started to blame Michelle for so much—like everything that went wrong could always be connected back to her somehow. And then I kind of did the same thing to my friends. (“You know how you say I compartmentalize? Well, I sort of made them into compartments—where I stored all my worst feelings.”) I admitted what I’ve only just begun to realize, which is that I was really forcing things, making everything about history and rituals, rather than our relationship.

I even tell her about the camera, though I know it will break her heart. She doesn’t react, or interrupt, and if she has any feelings about what I’m telling her, one way or another, she doesn’t let me see them. She just listens.

When I finally finish, she sits for a beat, then squeezes my hand. “First of all,” she says. “Your friends love you. More than any gift you could give them. More than anything. A disagreement doesn’t erase that. In fact, sometimes a disagreement can even make a relationship stronger, if you learn from it. Especially if you make it clear to them that you hear them, and see them, and that you aren’t trying to impose what you want on them—that you understand the real reason for traditions.”

I take a deep breath. I hope my friends will agree with what she’s saying. Especially since my friendship is the only gift I have to give them now.

“Also, I want to talk about feeling angry. You know, after your father left, I was angry too. I’m still angry, all the time. Anger can be healthy. But I think you’re so wise for noticing that the way yours is coming out and how you may be misdirecting it might not be healthy. It took me a lot of therapy and time to realize that.”

Wow. My mom goes to a therapist? I knew she was sad, but it never occurred to me that she might be angry about all the loss.