It was bullshit.
She didn't look past what she saw.
But then I didn't either.
Mom always seemed unbreakable. But she wasn't. There were cracks. A quiver in her voice here. A too strong drink there. A sad look at the door when I asked when Dad would be home.
She was lonely. She was lashing out. She was trying to put shit together.
I peel the plastic from the bouquet and drop the roses on her grave.
"I don't know what you'd think of me if you were still around. I guess I wouldn't be this guy. I wouldn't have changed everything in my life to take care of Emma." I press my hand to her gravestone. "I get it now, how hard it is to be a parent, to try to do the best for the people you love. I get that you were trying to help me and Emma in your way. I get that you looked at me like I was a piece of shit because you wanted something better for me." I lean back on my heels. "I understand. And I forgive you."
The tension in my shoulders melts. Fuck, it's weird talking to a tombstone, but if I squint, I can convince myself Mom is hearing this somehow.
"I know you didn't mean to fuck with my head. But you did. There's still a huge part of me convinced I'm worthless. That I'll never deserve the love of the kind of woman who wears cardigans and gets straight As. Fuck, I think I just threw away the best thing that ever happened to me because of it."
My exhale is heavy.
"But even with all that fucked up shit you did, I wish you were still around. I miss you. I can't believe it, but I do. I'm not sure if you'd believe me, but I'm trying to do better. For me. For Em. For you and Dad. For all of us."
Emma's locked in her room.
I knock on her door.
She doesn't answer.
"Em. I can open this door. I need to know you're okay."
"Okay is relative."
"Physically, okay."
She says nothing.
"Em." All these doors are child proof. A bobby pin is enough to trip the lock. But I'd rather not invade my sister's privacy. That's one of the million ways I want to do better. "You don't have to talk to me. Just tell me if you're okay."
"Yeah."
"Thanks."
Her footsteps move toward the door. "Why did you break up with Kaylee?"
"You were right. I'm supposed to protect her from guys like me." At least that's what my head was telling me. Now... it doesn't feel as right. It feels like Mom's voice.
"Really?" Emma pulls her door open. "Are you fucking serious?"
"You said it."
"Because I was pissed." She smooths her hair. Wipes her puffy, bloodshot eyes. "I thought about it. And... well, I was wrong. I was shocked and pissed and, well, you don't exactly have a good track record with relationships."
Fair enough. "Yeah."
"I thought... well, Kay is really pretty. And she's all sweet and innocent. And your reputation... I thought you just wanted to corrupt her. Or some sick shit like that. I couldn't imagine you really loving her. But I knew... I think, deep down, I knew she liked you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I wanted to believe it was someone else. Even Dean. But I think I knew. And I even understood. She's happy around you. She laughs. She relaxes. She... she tells you stuff. Stuff she doesn't tell me. That pissed me off. I'm her best friend and you're some hot, tall guy who will probably throw her away."
"You're tall."
"Yeah. I... I was jealous of you, I guess. That you were getting more of her. I just... You've both been spending so much time together. And then you both lied to me about it. It hurt. But now that I step back from that. I think you're good together."
What? I blink a dozen times.
"Don't give me that look, Brendon. You must see it. She's happy around you. And you—you're normally trying to audition to play Jess on some Gilmore Girls reboot."
"What?"
"Oh my God, everyone knows Gilmore Girls! You watched it over my shoulder."
I shake my head. I vaguely remember the mom and daughter eating a lot of junk food, but that's it.
"You sit around with your sketchbook like it's the only thing that gets your pain. But that isn't true. Kay does. I don't know what you tell her, but you're different around her too. You're happy. And, no offense, but you're usually miserable enough you're annoying to be around. I mean, I still love you, but it can be a drag."
"No offense though?"
She laughs. "Yeah. Of course not. I mean, you're no Ryan, but you were kinda on your way there. The last six months at least. And Kay... I'm just glad she has someone to help her right now. Well. That she did. But if you're breaking up with her for her then you're a fucking idiot. Who takes advice from their eighteen-year-old sister?"
I can't help but laugh. "You're wiser than you think."
"Well, yeah, if you need some help with your makeup or wardrobe. We have some great skinny jeans on sale. If you want a new pair, I can help with that. With Kay—"
"You know you're giving me advice right now."
"Okay. Let's say I'm wise. You should listen to me."
Yeah. I'm pretty sure I should.
Emma pulls out her cell. "Did you get this?"
It's a text from Kaylee's mom.
Mrs. Hart: Kaylee is going to be staying with us for a few extra days. She's doing okay. I'm sure she'd appreciate a call from you, Emma. I'm not sure she's in a place to reach out.
"It sounds bad." Emma's gaze goes to her screen. "I called a bunch, but she didn't pick up."
"It's late on the East Coast."
"You think it's bad news with her grandma?"
"Hard to say." But probably.
"We should be there. Shouldn't we?" Emma pushes her door wide open and steps into her room. She goes straight to her laptop. "I looked at tickets. And I talked to my manager. We could leave tomorrow night. Get in first thing in the morning. Or... well... if you really don't want to be with Kay, then you probably shouldn't come."
No shit. I nod.
"So, what's it going to be? Are you coming or not?"
Chapter Fifty-Three
Kaylee
I spend the entire day in Grandma's hospital room, talking about everything and nothing. Mom gives me the morning with Grandma. She joins me in the afternoon. We share stories and they team up to give me life advice.
Grandma stays quiet about things with Brendon. But I know Mom is going to find out. And that's going to be the end of me living at his place.
Not that I could live there with things as they are.
I... I'll just have to work more. Take out another student loan. Commute a little farther. Do whatever it takes to make it work.
We don't leave until the nurse insists.
It's so quiet at home. It's strange. Usually the house is full of Grandma's laugh. Or some loud, exciting show she's watching. This whole place is her. The walls are bright jewel tones. The blankets on the black leather couch are hot pink.