Mom always said, when someone tells you who they are, believe them. But he's told me in so many other ways.
Fixing me dinner.
Holding me close.
Making me coffee.
God, I need coffee.
The place on the way home isn't open yet. Not until seven a.m. Damn lazy hipsters.
But Allison…
I guess I have to forgive her too. Or at least, find a way to make peace with my parents splitting up.
It is their marriage.
It is their business.
They should have been honest with me—
But I can't really talk about keeping secrets right now, can I?
I slip inside. Inhale the familiar scent. The lemon cleaning supplies. The basil plant in the kitchen. The beautiful bag of coffee.
There. I set the kettle, grind the beans, fill the French press.
For a few minutes, routine takes over. Then footsteps move closer. A light turns on. A familiar voice greets me.
"Luna?" Allison asks. "You're home?"
"Yeah." I am. This is home. I don't know what's happening to the house. If it will still be ours. Or Allison's. Or Divya's.
It will always be home.
But it will never be mine again. I'll never be the little girl who accepted my parents protecting.
Who spent all her free time on the couch with her best friend. Joking about boys and wondering what I'll do when I grow up.
That phase of my life…
It's not over. But it's in the rearview mirror. I'm growing up. With all the good and bad that comes with it.
Including seeing my mom as the flawed, well-meaning person she is. "I'm home." I turn to her. "Do you want coffee?"
"Please." She cinches her robe. The same wine shade she always wears.
Only now, my head immediately goes to Oliver's claim. God, I am not thinking about how much my mom enjoys oral sex.
Gross.
It's a stupid claim anyway. He's ridiculous. And sweet. And handsome. And sexy as fuck.
And an asshole for running away.
But I'm not sure I'm capable of hating him for it.
"Give me a minute." Allison moves up the stairs. Knocks on a door.
Uh… is she bringing her girl toy down here? No thanks.
I'm not that mature and grown-up. I mean, maybe I'll meet her one day. But not right now.
I close my eyes. Focus on the coffee. On filling two mugs. Both black.
Familiar footsteps move down the stairs. Two pairs.
"Sweetheart." Divya moves into the kitchen. Wraps her arms around me. "We've been so worried."
"We?" Since when are they still a we?
She nods. "Your mother and me. Your friend called us. Told us you might be coming home soon. We wanted to make sure we were both here for you."
"My friend?" I ask.
"The blond guy," Allison says. "With the pretty eyes."
"The other one has prettier eyes," Divya says.
"But this one is Daisy's boyfriend. The other one…" Allison raises a brow.
Divya laughs.
They're actually… joking.
"Aren't you supposed to hate each other?" I asked.
Allison motions for me to sit.
Okay. I could sit. It's way too early to stand. I take my coffee. Move to the table.
Allison does the same.
Divya fills the kettle. Starts fixing a chai.
Like a normal morning.
Like everything is the same. Even though it's not. Even though it's never the same.
"Wait? Holden called you?" When did he do that?
Allison nods. "He didn't tell us what happened."
"You look horrible," Divya says. "Don't tell me it was a boy."
"Is telling me I look horrible your new thing?" I asked.
Allison chuckles.
"Hey. You don't laugh," I say. "You explain."
"I told you, sweetheart. I'll always love your mother," Divya says.
"And I'll always love her too," Allison says.
"And we'll always love you," Divya says. "I'll always be grateful to Allison, for being half of what makes you amazing. You're just like her. Strong and smart and resilient."
"And you're just like Divya," Allison says. "Bright and funny and charming."
They're… complimenting each other?
Allison continues. "I don't want to spend my life with her anymore. But I still want to be your mom. And we're still going to be co-parents."
"Okay." I swallow another sip of coffee. "So you're… you're really friends?"
Both of them nod.
"And you're friendly enough you'll spend Thanksgiving together. And Christmas? And you won't make me choose who gets what?" I ask.
"I think this is emotional blackmail," Allison says.
Divya nods. "Asking when she's hurting. When we want to soothe her. Ruthless. Like you."
They're almost flirting. But it's different. Removed. Like they're appreciating each other from afar.
Appreciating a movie they've finished.
"We can do that," Divya says. "For a while."
"Forever?" I ask.
"We'll see." Allison takes a long sip of her coffee. "Now. Tell us what happened. It was the one with the pretty eyes. Who was here to pick up your stuff?"
"He does have pretty eyes," I say.
"And tall. Straight girls are obsessed with that," Divya says.
"Only straight girls?" Allison challenges her.
I think Divya blushes, but I'm not sure.
Whatever it is—"Too much information."
"It was him?" Allison asks. "Oliver, isn't it?"
I nod.
"I told you she liked him," Allison says.
"I never doubted she liked him," Divya says. "He's very handsome."
"She isn't shallow," Allison says.
"She's eighteen and he's a tattoo artist," Divya says.
"Ah, like mother like daughter?" Allison teases her again.
"Aren't you supposed to be comforting me?" I ask. "Not flirting."
Allison smiles. "You're right."
"But you should have seen your mother in college," Divya says. "She wore that leather jacket."
"You've never worn a leather jacket," I say.
Allison nods I did. "I'll find it. Leave it in your room. If you're ready to come home."
"No… I think… I think I need my own space," I say. "My own place. If I can afford it."
Allison nods.
"But… I want to keep something. If you really are friends. If you're really okay. Brunch. Can we still have brunch?" I ask.
They exchange a look. Nod, yes, of course.
"It's Sunday," Allison says.
"But the restaurant isn't open for another two hours." Divya finishes her chai. Sits across from me. "Now. Tell me. What happened with Oliver?"
"You can call him by name?" I ask. "And not by eye-color or job title?"
Divya chuckles.
I don't even know how to explain. I don't know why he ran off, but I know he did. "He ended things. But I… I don't know if he really wanted to. Or if he was overwhelmed by seeing Daisy. Or by Holden realizing it. I think he realized it a while ago. But maybe Oliver didn't—"