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“Oh my god,” I laugh. “I’m scared … but excited.”
“That’s my favorite feeling.”
“Me too.”
She leaves me to finish getting ready. I did my own hair and makeup—I wanted to look like myself. My hair is loose in big curls down my back. I take off the earrings I was going to wear and put on the ones Sloane gave me instead. They’re perfect for my dress, but I would have worn them either way.
My mom returns a few minutes later, the gown laid carefully over her arm.
“I fixed it,” she says.
She’s smiling with all the same joy I feel when I get something to work.
She’s not wearing makeup at all, her hair center-parted and pulled back in a low bun at the base of her neck. Her dress is cotton, a pale lilac color. She looks like someone Frida Kahlo would have painted, or dated. Her smile fills me with warmth.
“Thanks, Mom.”
She sits down where Sloane was just a minute before, her knees pressing against mine.
“Congratulations, baby. There’s never been a more beautiful bride.”
I twist the skirt of my crinoline in my hands.
“Thanks, Mom. I know this isn’t really what you wanted for me …”
My mom has never loved the criminal life. She fell in love with my father and she accepts him for all that he is, but this isn’t the future she would have picked for me.
She looks in my eyes, tucking an errant curl behind my ear.
“Oh baby, you’re so wrong … this is everything I ever dreamed for you.”
Her dark eyes are fixed on mine, clear and honest, yet I can’t quite believe her.
“How can that be?”
“My greatest fear for you was that you were never going to find love. I see you looking at Adrik like I look at your dad, and that tells me how happy you’ll be.”
“Really?”
My mom nods. “I knew your dad a long time before he even noticed I existed. I remember what he was like before we met, andthat’swhat I never wanted for you. You are so like your dad … I worried that you would never find your equal. I’m so glad that you did, and so glad that I’m here to see it.”
Relief washes over me. When I went to Moscow, I don’t think anybody besides Adrik and me thought it was a good idea. It feels so much better to have the support of the people I respect the most.
“I’m sorry we never finished the bike.”
We’d been working on that old Indian motorcycle for ages. Like the ship of Theseus, I don’t think there was an original part left on it.
“Actually …” my mom smiles. “I have a surprise for you.”
“What?” I’m not ready to believe what I think she’s about to say.
“When you first left, I was worried about you. I had a lot of sleepless nights. I spent them in the garage working.”
I wince, full of guilt for everything I’ve put her through. Starting at about three years old and continuing through the present.
“Sorry, Mom.”
She touches my cheek, her hand soft and cool.
