I ordered fried rice, sweet-and-sour chicken, and beef with broccoli from Fung Wa, and Logan, Tanner, and I ate in silence, none of us making eye contact. After dinner, the boys retreated to their rooms, shutting the doors behind them. I cleaned up the kitchen table, put the leftovers in Tupperware, and loaded the dishwasher. Then I sat down to crack open my fortune cookie.
The one you love is closer than you think, the fortune read. At first I snorted, thinking it meant some guy I loved. And since I didn’t love any guy, that was impossible. Then I wondered if it meant something else. I glanced at the ceiling, imagining Logan and Tanner in their rooms, with their stereos on, already entirely separated from the reality of our family. I thought of Mom, forty miles away in Boston and a thousand miles away emotionally.
Finally, I thought of Dad. “The one you love is closer than you think,” I said aloud. I looked up and wondered why I didn’t believe the words. Well-intentioned adults always told me that my dad was in heaven, watching over me and my mom and brothers. It was an easy thing to say, but if it was true, why couldn’t I feel him anymore? Why couldn’t I feel anything?
? ? ?
I had just gotten Tanner to bed, and Logan was locked in his room talking on his cell phone, when Mom walked through the door later that evening. I noticed right away that her eyes were bloodshot.
“What are you doing still up?” she asked, staring at me as she came in through the garage door.
I was sitting in the kitchen, reading The Great Gatsby for English class. I liked it way more than I’d expected to, and I’d read past what we were required to read for class this week. I glanced at the clock and realized it was just past eleven. “I guess I lost track of time.”
“You really need to get to bed at a reasonable hour, Lacey, or you’re going to be tired for school. We’ve talked about this before. You can’t be irresponsible.”
Hearing her say that made my insides twist. Irresponsible was the last thing I was. But I knew the conversation wasn’t really about me being up past eleven. “Are you okay?” I asked.
She looked away. “I’m fine,” she said. “Is there some dinner left over?”
I hopped up. “I’ll make you a plate.”
“I don’t need—” Mom began, but I cut her off.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” I said. “Just sit down and relax.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Instead, she sank slowly into a seat at the kitchen table, kicked off her heels, and sighed.
“So,” I said as I scooped cold fried rice and sweet-and-sour chicken onto a plate, “do you want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?”
“Whatever’s wrong,” I said. I slid the plate into the microwave, set it for a minute thirty, and pushed Start. I turned and looked her in the eye. “You’ve been crying.”
“No, I haven’t,” Mom protested.
“Can you at least not lie to me?” I said. She looked away. “Is it about money?”
“What would make you think that?” she asked. “You know Dad had a life insurance policy and that I’m making plenty. Why do you keep worrying about that?”
I shrugged. “You always seem worried.”
She didn’t say anything. The microwave beeped. I pulled the plate out and slid it in front of her, along with a fork. I sat down beside her and tried a different tactic. “You were at the office late today.”
Mom didn’t look at me as she speared a piece of chicken and took a bite. “I had a lot to do,” she said after she’d swallowed.
“Like what?”
“I don’t want to bore you with it,” she said. “Lawyer stuff.” She took another bite.
I knew that was code for Stop asking me questions, so I changed the subject. “Tanner has to do a diorama for school,” I said. “They’re supposed to make scale models of their bedrooms. So he’ll probably need some supplies.”
“Okay,” Mom said. “If you e-mail me a list, I’ll pick up the materials on my way home from work tomorrow.”
“He’ll probably need some help with it,” I prompted. “I don’t think he’s done a diorama before.”
Mom took another bite and glanced up. “Lacey, I’ve got a really busy week. My caseload is just unbelievable.” She scooped up some rice and added, “Maybe you can help him. You’re good at that kind of thing.”
“At dioramas?” I couldn’t resist asking.
Mom shrugged. “You’re more creative than me,” she said. “And you have more time. You’d be doing me a big favor, honey. Please?”
“Yeah, okay.” I paused and tried to decide how to phrase what I wanted to say. “Look, maybe you could spend some time with Tanner this weekend or something, though. I’m really worried about him.”
“Lacey, he’s always been quiet. You can’t keep worrying about everybody and everything.”
“But if I don’t,” I said before I could think about it, “who will?”