She took another sip and thought of the day she’d told Casey she had to break up with Eli. She’d used reason and logic, appealing to her daughter’s rational side. It made sense, she’d said. She would be a day’s drive away at a university; he would still be home, working and attending community college. Their lives were going in two different directions. Why not go ahead and save themselves from the heartache and drama of maintaining a long-distance relationship? Why not give herself license to fully embrace college life without worrying about Eli back at home? It was a high school relationship, and they would no longer be in high school anymore. High school relationships, she had said, were not likely to last into adulthood.
“But you and Dad worked out,” Casey had countered. Exactly my point, Bess had thought but of course not said. She did not want her daughter to know that the main reason she was discouraging her high school relationship from lasting was because her own had. She was trying to save her from the same fate.
It had taken some lobbying, a lot of tears, a short spate of depression, and a good bit of arguing until, eventually, Casey had come around to her way of thinking. It had been, Bess firmly believed, for the best. That was the last thing she’d said to Casey when they left her on the steps of her dorm and drove the eight hours home: “It’s for the best, you’ll see.”
But, clearly, it had not been for the best. None of this—not Casey’s mysterious and unexplained reappearance, not her long walks and at times questionable sobriety, not her sneakily reuniting with Eli, and certainly not this latest situation—felt like “the best” that Bess had had in mind. Bess had wanted a clean slate for her daughter, a fresh start. Not a re-creation of Bess’s own life, reproduced like a photocopy. Casey deserved more. And wasn’t that noble? To want more for your child?
She heard footsteps on the stairs, Eli’s heavier clomping, Casey’s tiptoe step. She was surprised Casey was walking him out and not hiding in her room. Bess sat perfectly still, waiting for what would happen next. She expected Casey to take him out the front door and then scamper back upstairs. Would Bess go confront her after he was gone? She knew she should, but the impending conversation was a weight sitting on her chest. When she tried to form the words to say to her daughter, they remained shapeless and foreign inside her head, like speaking another language entirely. She wished Casey was at college where she belonged, away from here, doing whatever she pleased while Bess remained blissfully ignorant. That was the deal, but Casey had broken it.
She heard the footsteps coming closer and looked up to find Eli standing in the opening that led into the kitchen. Though it had been only a few months since she’d last seen him, he looked bigger, more filled out, more mature. As he opened his mouth to speak, his face looked as if an invisible someone were pointing an invisible gun at his head. But he spoke anyway. “I wanted to apologize,” he said. “For what happened. For being in your home like that. I disrespected you and I’m sorry.”
She circled the mug with both her hands and blinked at him. She admired his bravery. When he could’ve slunk away, he’d faced things head-on. She had a thought: Maybe he was a good guy. Maybe she’d done the wrong thing in encouraging Casey to break up with him. “Thank you for saying so,” she said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to my daughter alone now.”
He nodded and turned back to Casey, who stood just behind him looking mortified. “Call you later?”
Casey nodded just once, and he walked out, leaving the two of them alone. Bess had an image of him stepping out the front door, then breaking into a sprint to his car. She wouldn’t blame him. She wished she could sprint out of there, too.
Instead she turned to her daughter and opened her mouth to speak. She sat there for a moment, frozen, with her mouth agape, as she searched for the right words to say. But no words came out. “I . . . ,” she said. She closed her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” Casey said, filling the silence. “I shouldn’t have had him here.”
Bess opened her mouth again, but this time in shock. This time the words came tumbling off her tongue. “You think having him here is what you did wrong?”
“Of course that’s not all. It was just the first thing.” Bess watched two spots of color appear on Casey’s cheeks. She thought of when Casey was three and had gotten into her makeup. She’d put lipstick on her cheeks, thinking it was blush. It had looked similar to what Casey looked like now, the defined red circles in the same spots. Bess had been angry at her then, too. Back then it was just for ruining makeup, which could be replaced. Now it was for potentially ruining her life, which couldn’t.
“You’ve been seeing him since you’ve been home, haven’t you?”
“A few times is all. I ran into him getting pizzas. I didn’t plan it.” She said this like it mattered, like intent was the big issue.
“You planned today. He didn’t just happen by when I was gone.”
Casey reached over and picked up a candle off the counter, inspected it like it was the most interesting thing in the room. “I guess,” she said to the candle.
Bess stood up and carried her empty mug to the sink, ran the water to rinse it, thinking as she did of what to say next, where to take the stalled conversation. Should she just tell her never to do it again and let her go? Should she have the safe-sex talk with her again, just as a refresher? Or should she dig deeper, finally probe as to why her daughter was even in her kitchen now and not back at the University of Alabama, where she was supposed to be? Bess wished she had a guide for this type of thing, a script to go by. So much of parenting was ad-libbing, an improv act that wasn’t the slightest bit funny.
She shut off the water and loaded the mug into the dishwasher. “I need to know why you came home,” she said. She turned to look at Casey. “Is it because of Eli?”
Casey looked down at the floor. “No,” she said.
Bess waited Casey out, let the uncomfortable silence stretch out between them.
“Are you struggling in your classes?” she tried again. It was like being the first to blink in a staring contest.
“No,” Casey said again.
Bess felt her heart pick up speed. So it wasn’t because she missed the love of her life too much, and it wasn’t because she was having a hard time academically. Those were the two easy ones. She swallowed. “Did something happen?” she asked.
Casey’s eyes darted over to her, then away. Bess watched her look out the window, as if she’d suddenly taken an interest in birds. She knew her daughter was deciding what to say, weighing and measuring her words. Tread lightly, a voice inside her warned. Don’t push her.
Casey looked back at her, her eyes wide. “Can I talk about it when I’m ready?” she asked.
Bess exhaled, ashamed at the relief she felt. “As long as you promise that you will. If nothing else, we need to talk about your plans for school this semester. This can’t be good, you missing so many classes,” she said.
“I’ve been talking to the dean. I’m good on that end.”
Bess nodded, sensing that they’d just made progress and she shouldn’t push any further. Right now, she assured herself, she was right to relent. They both needed a reprieve. This wasn’t cowardice, it was striking a delicate balance with her daughter. “Just promise me we’ll talk soon.”