She put her hand out to stop me and said, “If you don’t mind, I want to know how you plan to handle this. I think it’d be best if she and Aaron had the same punishment, so we can send a consistent message.”
I nudged Eve inside and took a deep breath, trying to decide how to respond to this lunatic. I first confirmed they were only kissing.
“Yes, but I wouldn’t say ‘only’ kissing,” she replied. “That does lead places, you know.”
I laughed. “I think as mothers we can certainly agree there.” She didn’t find that funny, so I said, “Look, Eve isn’t getting in trouble for kissing your son. I’m sorry if she broke one of your house rules, but she hasn’t broken one of ours.”
The woman stormed off, leaving the distinct impression she’d be praying for my soul this evening. I sat on the floor in the foyer and laughed until Eve found the courage to come in. It seemed like a good time for installment two of “the talk.” Brady is away, so I took her out for Japanese. During our last talk, when she was eleven, we covered the scientific stuff. This time, at fifteen, I gave her details, including the dreaded birth-control lecture. She asked questions like, “How do you know when you’re in love?” and I asked questions like, “Are any of your friends having sex?” We probably should’ve ordered in—we got odd looks from the table next to us—but it was a great night. She let me peek into her world, giving me confidence in her ability to control her own destiny. Eve is not a girl who’s going to sleep with someone out of pressure. Curiosity maybe, but not pressure. As we drove home she said, “You really are good at the whole mother thing.” A kudo of the highest order …
I wait until Eve reads the entire thing before speaking. When she looks up I say, “I know I’m not her, but if stuff comes up, questions or whatever, I hope you know I’m prepared to be here for you. I’ll leave all judgments at the door. And if you can’t talk to me, you can always talk to Aunt Meghan or Paige. The most important thing is that you get answers when you need them.” It was my most eloquent speech yet.
“I heard you crying Sunday night,” Eve replies, so that I’m the vulnerable one. She refuses to let me parent.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “It was a tough one.”
“No,” she says. “Don’t be sorry. I’m trying to say that the same goes for you. If you ever want to talk, or whatever, I’m here. I didn’t want to, like, interrupt you. Your door was closed, so I figured you wanted to be alone. But if you ever want company, I’m up for a good cry anytime.”
Huh. “Thanks.” I force a smile, wanting to keep the goodwill flowing. “So, are you and John still dating?”
She pouts. “Do we seriously have to get into this right now?”
My gut commands me to stand my ground. It’s been instructing me a lot lately, and it’s usually right. “It’s a simple question.”
“We never technically broke up, if that’s what you mean,” she says, “but once he’s back from rehab I’m sure he’ll get right on that.”
I begged to have this conversation and now I don’t have a fucking clue where to take it. “You don’t know that,” I offer.
“Ah, yeah Dad, I do. We hadn’t been speaking much before prom and his dad like banished me after the accident.”
I look at Eve. Her expression is firmly that of someone who doesn’t give a shit. I know the look from firing people who are excited to collect unemployment. Eve used to explode when we made her get off the phone with John late at night, now they haven’t spoken in three weeks and she couldn’t care less. Maddy would find that disconcerting, but what would she do about it?
“Well, maybe that’s best with you going to Exeter. No shortage of boys there.” What’s wrong with me? Why am I advising my daughter to stake out another boyfriend when I won’t be there to vet him?
Eve snorts. “You’re a geek, Dad.”
I decide that’s an apropos ending to this disastrous bonding moment. Before she leaves I move in for a hug, determined to break our physical barrier, but she steps out of reach and says good night.
I stay up late thinking about all the things I told Maddy, and all the things I held back. Where was my opinionated gut back then? I offered lots of I love yous and thank yous, but those words are overused. Lying in the bed we shared, lights out, I say it aloud, as though she’s here with me, as though it isn’t too late.
“If you can hear me now, and I swear you can, I loved how you quoted your favorite writers to describe how you felt about something. I loved your thick, loud laugh, and how over time you wore less and less makeup instead of more. I loved how you treated everyone like they were equally important. I loved how you occasionally cursed like a truck driver, and I loved that you never apologized for it. I loved how you made me feel like I was the smartest, funniest, most generous man in the world, even though I’m learning I wasn’t.”
It’s my second speech of the night, only this time I get the response I was hoping for. Echoing through my head I hear Maddy whisper, I love you too. Present tense. And I allow myself to pretend that’s true, as though she’s here with me and it isn’t too late.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Madeline
You’d think dead people, with the ultimate consequence exhausted, would be free from traditional worry, but Rory is on her way to the house and I’m a wreck. If Rory and Eve don’t hit it off there will be no point adding Brady to the mix.
At my request, Brady called last night to confirm the tutoring session. Expecting it to be a simple back-and-forth, he worked on an outbound email while the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Is this”—he paused to look at the list with her name circled—“Ms. Rory Murray?”
“I’m sorry to be rude,” she said in a near-whisper, “but would you please take me off your list? My mother is unwell … I can’t risk disturbing her.”
Brady almost took the easy out and disconnected, but I reminded his subconscious he’s a grown damn man with a reason for calling. “I’ll be brief. I just want to—”
Rory was aghast at his audacity, still under the assumption he was selling vacuums or life insurance. “Look, I have no money to buy whatever it is—”
“Oh. No. No. Tomorrow you tutor my daughter, Eve Starling, in calculus? I’m calling to confirm and get an address to remit payment.”
Rory laughed. “Remit payment?”
Realizing he was the butt of the joke, Brady stopped multi-tasking. “Sorry. Long day. I just want to make sure we’re square.”
She giggled. “Square?”
He laughed so she’d know he’s more normal than initially presented. “Geez, tough crowd. I apologize for wanting to pay you.”
“I don’t mean to give you a hard time,” Rory said, the smile showing in her voice. “I’ll take any excuse for humor these days.”
Brady thought back to the comment about her mother, which he’d chalked up to a genius stop calling tactic, and kicked himself for not hanging up. The idea that he woke an infirm old lady was too much for his already overworked conscience.
Me too, I suggested he respond, keeping him in the moment.