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Panic flares in my chest. Fuck. I shouldn’t have told her. What the hell was I thinking? Like this? While she’s in prison? While she has so much else on her plate?
I thought I was doing it for her, but maybe I was doing it for me, being selfish because I miss her so fucking much, because I just wanted my mom back for a few moments.
Desperate to undo the blank stare on her face, I open my mouth and start babbling.
“I know it’s—it’s probably not what you were expecting. Hell, I wasn’t expecting it, but
it just happened. I care about them, Mom. A lot. And they’re good to me. They’re good for me. They make me better, stronger. And they love each other so much, being with them makes me feel like I’m part of something good, something unbreakable, that could stand up to anything.”
The words are pouring out of me now, like they’ve been lying in wait for weeks, trapped in my heart with no way out.
“Some people will never get it, and I know it’s different, but it’s not any less real than if I was just with one of them. They all fit me in different ways. Lincoln is so strong, no matter what gets thrown at him. And Chase is like you—he finds the good parts of everything. Dax has the biggest heart, and River is so fucking smart. He sees so much; he sees right through me.”
My heart is bashing against my ribs, and Mom is still gazing at me, a look of something like shock on her face.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. Or maybe I shouldn’t have even told you now. But I’m happy with them. Please don’t hate me, and please don’t tell me I’m wrong. Because it’s not wrong, Mom. I know it. I’m falling in love with them.”
When I finally stop talking, I let out a shuddery breath. It’s done. I can’t take it back. Not the first thing I said, and not any of the things I blurted after.
Mom keeps staring at me, but this time, I don’t fill the silence. I just let it be.
And then, suddenly, her expression cracks. Tears flood down her face, and even though burning disappointment fills my gut, I cry too. Because I never meant to hurt her with my choices, and I hate that I brought this up when there’s a literal wall between us. I shouldn’t have. It was fucking stupid.
Mom’s shoulders shake with sobs, and she drops her head, her free hand pressing against her stomach like it might keep the emotions contained somehow. I sit with her and watch her cry because I can’t fucking hug her like I want to, and I hate it more than I’ve ever hated anything.
When she finally speaks, her voice is a raw, stuttering whisper.
“I’m so scared, Low. I’m so scared I won’t get out of here. Ever.” Another tear slips from her eye, and she reaches up to swipe at her cheek as she pulls herself back together. “I’m terrified of leaving you alone. I think about it sometimes, and it feels like my heart just dies inside my chest, like I can’t breathe, I can’t live.”
My heart clenches, and we both lean toward each other, our faces so close but so distant.
“I hate it,” she says. “I hate that they took me away from you. I hate that you’re out there on your own trying to navigate this insane, messed up world we live in. I want to be there for you, Low.” She smiles sadly at me. “For everything.”
“Me too, Mom.”
My voice is small, and I feel like a little kid in a cancer ward again, leaning on my mother for support when it all becomes too much.
Mom presses her lips together, her nostrils flaring as she draws in a slow breath. Then she presses her hand to the glass, and my hand is moving to meet hers before it even touches the smooth surface. With our palms pressed together, she meets my eyes. Hers are sad and tired and glassy with tears, but they’re still so full of love it makes my chest ache.
“I wish I could be there for you,” she murmurs, her voice falling directly into my ear through the old-fashioned phone receiver. “I wish I could be there with you. But if there are four more people in the world who care about you—that’s a good thing, Low. It’s a good thing.”
The certainty in her voice cracks open my heart, spreading something warm and comforting through my entire body.
I don’t have to choose.
I won’t have to choose between the boys I’m falling in love with and my mother, my best friend.
We keep our hands pressed to the glass, fingers splayed, as we talk in low voices, letting out a whole mess of emotions we’ve both been holding back for too long. And with every word we speak, I feel lighter somehow. As if acknowledging our fears made them a little less terrifying.
“I love you, Mom,” I whisper.
“Love you too, Low. So much. Always.”
When I finally lean away from the partition and stand up to leave, the pane of glass between us seems thinner somehow, and it occurs to me that maybe the plexiglass isn’t the only thing that’s been separating us for the past few months. Maybe it’s been the lies and the secrets too.
There are still some things I can’t tell her, but I resolve that I will.
Someday soon.
