“Yeah…this was never supposed to go on this long anyway. We don’t want the same things.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. This hurt. How could Mom do this more than once? “Nope, we don’t. So…friends?”
“Friends,” Clark agreed, his voice soft and strained.
“Listen, I, um…I gotta go, okay? Mom and I are hanging out tonight, so I’ll talk to you later.” I couldn’t wait for him to respond. I didn’t have it in me. I ended the call, sank down, ass on the carpet, arms around my knees, and cried.
No matter what I told myself, how many lies whispered through my thoughts, I’d somehow thought this thing with Clark could work. That maybe we’d be different. But I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t risk it, and God, this fucking hurt.
I didn’t know how long I sat there, but it was where Mom found me, on the floor in my closet, crying from a broken heart.
“Oh, baby.” She went right down on the floor beside me, wrapped her arms around me, kissed the top of my head, and shushed me the way I’d done to her so many times in the past. I was losing my shit, and I couldn’t even say why. Tonight, Mom, Clark, his family, the job, it was all muddled in my head. Things I wanted that were out of reach, and things that would always be a part of my life. Mom brokenhearted and me putting her back together, my constant companion. Only now, she was putting me together too. “What happened?” she finally asked.
“Nothing.” I shook my head, pulled back, and sat up straighter with my back against the wall.
“That didn’t look like nothing.”
“I’m being stupid. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I…I applied for this job. I really wanted it. It’s making costumes for a local theater, and I thought I got it, but I haven’t heard from them.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t know you were looking for a new job. That’s great. I can see you doing something like that.”
“But they don’t want me.” I looked away.
“Sky…you don’t know that. Maybe they do. Maybe something came up. Maybe they’re a little later on getting back to you or…yes, maybe you didn’t get this job, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get the next one. Getting hurt, losing something we want, that’s life, sweet boy. If you don’t take the chance that you might get hurt, you risk never hearing yes either. That’s not you. You’re not afraid of anything.”
I whipped my head toward her at that. “Are you kidding? I think I’m…I think I’m afraid of everything.” Maybe I’d never let myself see it. Maybe I’d always lied to myself, but I didn’t risk my heart so I didn’t get hurt like she did, and I didn’t go for jobs I might love so no one would tell me they didn’t want me, and I didn’t keep going in gymnastics because I wasn’t good enough for the Olympics. I just…wore a smile, laughed, had fun, and told myself that was all I needed. Pretended to be happy and carefree because it was so much fucking easier than risking getting hurt.
“Oh, Skylar. I really let you down, didn’t I? I failed the best thing in my whole world—the most important.”
“You didn’t fail me. You—”
“No.” She cut me off, her voice serious. “Stop trying to protect my feelings. I’ve screwed up, and I’ve screwed up a lot, not just in my own life, but for you. I’ve put myself first. I haven’t been able to keep it together. You’ve had to parent me more than you should, and that stops today because you, sweet boy, are the best person, the best son, the best man I have ever known. And for you not to see that… I’m sorry I let you down. And I promise you, I won’t ever let you down again, okay? We’re going to fix this—no, I’m going to fix this. I’m going to be better, and get my shit together, and I’m going to show my boy that I can stand on my own two feet so he doesn’t have to hold me up anymore.”
“Mama…” I tugged her to me and hugged her. We both cried for a few minutes, and then she scooched me over, sitting with her back to the wall too.
“You’re in love with Clark.”
“Yes…but I can’t…”
“You can. You’re not me. We’ve gone over this, remember? If I’m gonna be real and get my shit together, you’re going to as well. This is what we’re going to do: I’m going to make an appointment with a therapist, and I’m also going to cut off dating—for real this time—and figure out why…well, figure out my shit. You’re going to—not tonight, of course—but you’re going to call and check in on the job. And you’re also going to look into more jobs—any kind of sewing jobs—just to get the practice. And you’re going to find a way to realize you’re worthy of love, and it’s okay to let yourself fall, because you’re not me. My mistakes won’t be yours.”
“It would never work with Clark.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with Skylar? You’re fucking fabulous, and you know it. Plus, that boy has been in love with you since you were kids. He looks at you like you set his world on fire. No one has ever looked at me that way.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
“It is. I promise.”
“His mom—”
“Isn’t who you’ll be dating. She’s stuffy and pretentious, but whatever; she’ll get used to it.”
“What if it causes problems between Clark and her? What if I’m not what’s best for him?”
Mom sighed, looked at me, and said, “Stop trying to protect everyone. Clark isn’t me, and he’s capable of making his own decisions, don’t you think? If you want him, then tell him and trust him. You can’t control Clark, or his mom, and he certainly can’t control her either. The only thing either of you can control is yourselves. Don’t let her or anyone else write your story. The two of you need to write it for yourselves.”
I looked at her, smiled, felt…maybe a little hope. “You’re good at this.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier to give advice than to follow it. But that changes tonight.”
“I love you, Mom.”
She rested her head on my shoulder. “I love you too, Sky.”
38
Clark
I’d been avoiding my mom for the better part of a week, so when my dad called me into an unscheduled meeting in the conference room, I was already suspicious and not at all prepared to get into the nitty-gritty with them, even if it did end up being work-related.
As it was, I was still licking my wounds after my last phone call with Skylar.
“Why should you damage your relationship with your family for a booty call?”
My chest had cracked open when he’d said those words, and though we’d texted here and there since then, it felt stiff and forced and not at all the same as before. Maybe because in the blink of an eye, we’d gone from tender touches in the dead of night, back to platonic text messages. I couldn’t help wondering if he was feeling as affected by the change as I was, even if he was the one who’d originally set the parameters—and even though I’d gone along with them willingly. I knew the ground rules where Skylar was concerned, so why was I so gutted, having known full well this was how it would all go down?