He looks over at me, alarmed and unfortunately aware of all of these jumbled emotions radiating out of me, so I offer a smile in return. A genuine one, one that assures him I’m glad that, despite everything else, somebody is here for him. For them.
“Mom’s drank about fifty cups of tea a day to steady her nerves.” Callie takes Kellan’s hand and squeezes. I hope he can feel it, know she’s here. “She’s been crying a lot, too.”
I shrink back into my seat, too ashamed to enter the conversation.
Jonah bites his lip and manages to look even guiltier.
Callie lifts up Kellan’s hand to kiss it and then carefully lays it back down on the bed. “It’s tough on her, you know? She understands your jobs, naturally. But she can’t help but worry. And stuff like this, when you guys haven’t even been working for a year?” She crosses her arms across her chest again, like she’s afraid too much will spill out. “I try to remind her that at least she doesn’t have to worry about that with a half-breed non like me.”
“Don’t do this, Cal,” he says, voice low. “Not now.”
Callie won’t even look at him. “Kellan is breaking her heart.”
“Cal,” he warns, and I get the feeling that they’ve suddenly forgotten I’m in the room.
“He’s an idiot for what he puts her through! Don’t tell me you disagree, because I’ve overheard too many of your arguments.”
He takes a step towards her. “This isn’t the time—”
“When is? When Mom’s here, pretending to be okay with him in a coma, just so—”
He moves in another step, close enough that their shoes nearly touch. “Cal, drop it.”
Anger erupts across her face with pink cheeks. “You think you can—”
“I don’t think,” he says in that scary, quiet even voice. “I know. And I can just as easily revoke your visitation privileges—”
“Jonah!” I squeak out, appalled.
“Because,” he continues, not looking at me, “as I’m sure you are well-aware of, Kate has explicitly instructed that Chloe—and Kellan—are not to be upset during their recoveries.”
Her rosy lips flatten, and I swear her nostrils flare, but she gives him a nod of consent.
And then the door opens, and Astrid Lotus comes in, carrying a vase of exotic flowers I’ve never seen before. Jonah and Callie take several steps back from one another—not quickly, but leisurely, like it doesn’t bother them in the slightest that Astrid has caught them mid-fight. “Hello, Chloe,” she says to me, ignoring them as she crosses the room. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought you these. Flowers always cheer me up when I’m not feeling my best.”
I take the flowers, feeling even more uncomfortable, as if that was even possible, and thank her. She leans down and hugs me, and it’s just like I remember from our session last year. It’s the perfect kind of motherly hug, all warm and firm and accepting.
Yet brief. Because she’s gone far too quickly, back over to where her kids are. “You look terrible,” she says to Jonah. “Please tell me you got some rest this morning.”
He kisses her cheek and she smooshes him into a hug. A big, long, loving one that I can’t help but envy. What must that be like, to have a mom who hugs you whenever she wants like that? Who wants to hug you like that? And, in return, not feel privileged or surprised, but simply know and accept that this is how hugs are between the two of you?
It’s too painful to watch. Karnach in the distance is easier to focus on, less likely to inspire tears. Mom, I think, desperately sending the words out past the glass and into the air, where are you? Why aren’t we hugging like this?
I want my mom.
“I’m fine,” Jonah is saying behind me, and it’s done with an indulgent hint of loving exasperation. Like he has to suffer through these sorts of questions more often than not.
“Liar,” Callie mutters.
“She’s right,” Astrid says fondly.
“You think after mastering inscrutability, you could control your tell-tale bat signal that lets us all know when you’re stressed out,” Callie adds.
My eyes swing back involuntarily towards them. He has a tic that gives away when he lies?
Astrid touches his hand gently and he actually blushes. “I, for one, am glad for this. It’ll be a sad day for me, indeed, when I can no longer tell if my boys are lying to me or not.”
To say I feel betrayed is an understatement. It’s completely irrational, but for these people to know Jonah so well that they instantly can identify a lie when I never have been able to, well . . . it’s like a huge slap in the face.
His eyes meet mine, unnecessarily apologetic and sad. Like he’s already regretting inviting Astrid and Callie here. So, I say, as cheerily as I can, “I’m really glad you guys are here.” And I mean it.