She touched his head, gave it a little scratch.
He leaned into her hand, and she wondered how long it had been since she’d touched him. With that thought came the loss again, the grief and the guilt. “What you doing?”
“Trying to beat this level.”
“Your friends are here … to say good-bye,” she finally said.
“Yeah,” he said, sighing.
“Come on,” she said.
They went downstairs together, saying nothing.
In the living room, there was a moment of silence as they entered, awkward and uncomfortable. How could this ever be a celebration, really? Then Zach’s friends came up him, smiling uncertainly, talking quietly.
Jude stood back. She was trying like hell to stay present, to stay in this moment that mattered to her son, but it hurt so much. She should have expected it, should have known she couldn’t celebrate Zach’s journey to college—to USC—without also mourning the fact that he was going alone.
She stayed as long as she could, smiled more than she would have thought possible; she even cut the cake and asked Miles to make a toast, but long before the day turned to early evening, she slipped down the hallway and hid in her dark office.
How could she go to USC, say good-bye to her son and not be overwhelmed with grief? USC was Mia’s school—everyone knew that. Her bedroom walls were studded now with red and gold USC paraphernalia. The worst part (which she would never admit to anyone) was that she wanted him gone. Every time she looked at him, she broke all over again. Without him, she could just do nothing. Be nothing.
Feeling shaky, she went to the sofa and sat down. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe.
“You can run, but you can’t hide,” someone said, and the lights came on.
Molly stood there, holding a plate of lemon bars. She took one look at Jude and rushed to the couch, sitting down beside her. “Breathe, honey. In and out. In and out.”
“Thanks,” Jude said when the panic subsided.
“I don’t want to set you off again, but your mother’s looking for you.”
“Reason enough to hide out.”
“I don’t know what to say to you anymore, Jude. But I’m here. You know that, right?”
“I know it.”
Molly’s gaze was steady, worried. “You can call me anytime … I know how hard it will be on you when Zach is gone.”
“Gone.” The word was like the flick of a knife. Zach was leaving. Mia was gone.
She forced a smile. The only way to stop a conversation like this was to pretend she was okay. “Yes. Well. I better go see my mother before she decides to redecorate.” She reached for a lemon bar, which she had no intention of eating, but it was the polite thing to do. The normal thing.
*
The next day, she and Miles and Zach set off for the airport.
It should have been a joyous occasion. Each of them tried to pretend. Miles made inane conversation and stupid jokes all the way to Sea-Tac.
On the airplane, they pretended not to notice the empty seat across from Miles. Before, they’d always sat two and two. Now they filled up a row themselves. The three of them.
At the college, they walked around in the hot California sunshine, remarking on the beauty and elegance of the campus.
Throughout the weekend, grief, always elastic, stretched out and snapped back, surprising them with its force at the oddest times. Seeing a blond girl in a black vest … seeing a girl in a pink sweater do a cartwheel on the grass, hearing Zach’s roommate ask about sisters or brothers …
But they made it through. On Sunday night, they had a last family dinner at Mastro’s Steakhouse in Beverly Hills and then took Zach back to his dorm room. There, Jude saw the decorations on Zach’s roommate’s side—posters and family pictures and a quilt made by the kid’s mom. It occurred to her then, too late, that she should have shopped for Zach, filled this room with everything he would need to succeed at school. The old Jude would have moved him in with boxes and boxes …