Page 103 of The Do-Over

“She’s hurt, Cupcake, and she’s embarrassed. It’s like poking at a porcupine. She’s tough on the outside and nothing but mush on the inside. She loves you and Phee very much, but she knows she’s made mistakes. Just give her time. Give us all time.”

But it felt like the more time passed, the less likely it was to mend our relationship. I’d screwed up in a way my mother couldn’t fix. I’d said things I couldn’t unsay. It felt like I’d broken our relationship beyond repair. Could my mother forgive me for this? Could I even forgive myself?

Maybe forgiveness was the wrong word. I didn’t just want her to forgive me, I wanted things to change. I wanted my mom to accept me for exactly how I was. Until now, every single action and word and outfit and meal had been noted, inspected, and judged. If our relationship was broken, I wanted to rebuild it, but differently, better.

Still, I was pretty sure I held the top spot on the list of Worst Daughters in the World. In case I needed a reminder, I just had to log onto YouTube and view the five videos uploaded hours after the party.

My sister, considering her job, had taken the brunt of the public response, which spanned the spectrum of amused to disgusted. On air, she’d taken it with gracious humor, but in private, I’d heard very little from her since. I’d called and texted, apologizing as much as I could, but she’d remained quiet just the same.

My allies could be numbered on one hand: Nate, Lilah, Mathias, and Mimi.

And soon, I would lose two of those.

FORTY-ONE

“When it rains, it pours.

Best hope your umbrella opens in time.”

—MIMI

The second Friday in October marked the final day of Miss Marge’s Preschool and Daycare. By then, most parents had made new arrangements for the kids. Lilah’s last day had been the week before, and only a handful remained until the bitter end. On my final walkthrough, my heart grew heavy at the empty classrooms and bare walls.

Miss Marge hugged me before I left and shoved a baggie of cookies at me. “Take these. They’re left over from the party, and they’ll just go bad.”

“Remember to keep me updated on Facebook.”

Somehow, I’d convinced her of the merits of social media, set her up on Facebook and given her a crash course in how to upload photos so we could stay in touch. Especially now she was moving three hours away. “I will.”

My gaze drifted out the window to the spot by the sidewalk where the preschool sign had been. Only a small bare patch of dirt remained, surrounded by green grass and that For Rent sign. I’d never told Miss Marge the Mayfield Home Mortgage that held her lease was the same Mayfield of my last name. Maybe she’d put two and two together at some point but, if she had, she hadn’t held it against me.

“Thanks for giving me a job.” I sniffled and blinked to hold the tears at bay. “I know I wasn’t exactly prepared.”

“Hush, now. Sometimes you go with your gut. My gut told me you were a good person.” She patted my arm and gave me a watery smile. “And it was right. Besides, you’re good at this. You have a heart for the kids.”

I wandered home, soaking in the last time I’d make this trek from Miss Marge’s. There was something satisfying about using my own two legs to get me where I needed to go every day, and now I wouldn’t have a reason to do it. A few shop owners waved as I walked by, and I tried to smile in return. Even a glimpse of red feathers in a tree I passed under did nothing to lift my mood.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I slipped it out and smiled at the text message there.

Nate: I hope you had a good last day. There’s a surprise outside your door.

My heart lightened. Nate did that to me. A bouquet of tulips waited on the welcome mat in front of my apartment. A little tag attached to it read: They reminded me of you. Dinner, tonight?

Clutching the flowers to my chest like the besotted dope I was, I opened my door and danced over to Sal. He gazed at my gift with one interested black eye.

“Yes, Sal, I’m pretty sure I love this guy.”

Lilah bounded into my apartment a little after six, Nate trailing behind her.

“Perci! Perci! Guess what?” She held up a baggie containing a tiny chip of white. “I lost another tooth.”

“Don’t forget to put it under your pillow.”

She rolled her eyes and stuffed the bag in her pocket. “Of course. Else the tooth fairy can’t find it and I won’t get”—she side-eyed Nate—“the newest book in the Wonders of the World series.”

“When I was a kid, we got a dollar,” Nate said.

Lilah stuck out a hip and put her fist on it. “That was in the old-time days.”