“They both sound like sucky options.”
Mom no longer looked like she was trying not to laugh. She said, very seriously, “I see now the danger in letting you be so overprotected. It taught you to overprotect your heart.”
“I’m scared.”
“You should be. There’s nothing more frightening than true intimacy.”
“MOM!” I couldn’t be more embarrassed. “That’s not what I meant!”
“That’s not what I meant, either. I’m talking about emotional intimacy, not physical. Acknowledging how you really feel, who you really are. Opening up your soul to another person. There’s nothing scarier. And I’ve been to Woodbury Common outlet mall on Black Friday. I know from scary.”
I had nothing to say while I absorbed what she’d said. To my silence, Mom added, “But since you brought it up—”
“No, we haven’t!” I said, squirming. “I mean, he doesn’t even, like, protest about your rule that my bedroom door has to be open if we’re in there alone together.”
“That’s your dad’s rule, not mine, but I can’t say I blame Dash. I don’t think I’d want to fool around with you in your bedroom, either, if I knew you had a dozen family members outside the door waiting to strangle him if he tried anything beyond holding your hand.”
I honestly wanted to convulse with grossness hearing my mother say the words “fool around” in the context of Dash and me, but I also liked the other part of what she was suggesting. “So Dash can be in my bedroom with the door closed?”
“If he dares. Sure. I overrule Dad on this one. Dash is a good guy, and if you’re ready to have this conversation about intimacy with me, then I trust you to make the best decision when the time is right for both of you, and to handle it responsibly. But I’m guessing there’re other places Dash would rather be alone with you. I wouldn’t take his indifference to the open door to mean his lack of desire for you.”
—
Our hour was up. We could hear the 2:37 Manhattan-bound train approaching in the far-off distance.
“Are you really moving up here?” I asked Mom.
“Still haven’t decided. But I admit I like it more than I expected. It’s hard commuting across Long Island just to be an untenured community college instructor teaching undergrads who need English credits but could care less about the great sonnets. I might like to be an unemployed poet up here instead.”
“But your family is in the city.”
“Dad wants to be here. That’s the risk I have to take. Choose him. Old people like us have these hard growth spurts, too.”
“But Grandpa!”
Mom sighed. “He’s gotten so obstinate. We all know the best place for him would be an assisted-living facility. Better quality of life for him.”
I gasped. “He’d be so mad if he heard you say that!”
“I know. That’s a big part of the problem. Not seeing that what’s best for him is what also would be better for everybody. He’s needing more care than we can reliably give him, despite how much we love him. We all stopped our lives after his fall, but at some point we have to choose to lead our own lives again, as painful as that choice will be.”
“Where will I go?”
“You can move up here and go to Dad’s school. Or you could live at Mrs. Basil E.’s and spend the summer with us. She’s offered. You’re a big girl now. You can figure it out. No one’s abandoning you, and everyone will do everything possible to make the situation work for you. Because that’s how awesome your family is, and why you should never ever again go missing from them.”
There was too much still to discuss, and about one minute left before I had to get out of the car to catch the train. So I focused on the important issue.
“Am I still grounded?”
“Yes.”
“Really?” I made a sad, Lily’s-falling-into-an-emotional-tailspin-again face.
“No. And don’t think I’m not aware of what you’re doing.”
“What’s that?”
“Lilymaid’s a-milking Mom’s sympathies for all she can. Now go home and get your Christmas on, finally. And tell Dash—”
I kissed her cheek. “Bye, Mom. Thank you. I love you.”
I dashed out of the car toward the train, to dash me home to Dash.
—
Once I got on the train, I turned on my phone again. My heart was ready to explode for everything I wanted to tell Dash. I was ungrounded, I had the apartment to myself, and I loved a boy.
The first text message I saw was from Dash. My heart leapt just at the sight of his name, and I thought of how brave I was going to be when I saw him next. Then my heart sank when I read his words. I try so hard to make you happy. But clearly I can’t. I don’t want to say you’re impossible to please. But you’re impossible to please. And since you can’t stop disappearing, I realized you’re right. We need a break.
Saturday, December 20th
I paused my texting, then continued.
That break will last exactly twenty-three hours. No longer. No less.
“Did I get the math right?” I asked Mrs. Basil E., showing her the phone.
“Yes. Now…the final touch.”
“But of course!”
Further instructions to follow, I typed.