Chapter 12 - My Mother Put The Posters Away Without Me
Two weeks passed.
Classes started.
I discovered Halston had biology labs, terrible parking and professors who did not care that I had transferred for emotionally complicated reasons.
Normal life was almost insulting.
My mother did not speak to me for five days.
Then she called.
“I put the posters away.”
I sat on the library steps.
“Okay.”
“You're not going to say thank you?”
“No.”
She exhaled.
“Right.”
Better.
“Where?”
“Closet.”
“Not trash?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Silence.
Then:
“I’m angry at you.”
“I know.”
“You made a decision that affects me.”
I almost laughed.
“Yes.”
“No.”
She caught herself.
“I mean… you took down the site you built.”
“Yes.”
“That part is yours.”
Progress.
Then:
“I still want to look.”
“I know.”
“Do I have the right?”
I took time.
“You have the right to miss her.”
“That wasn't what I asked.”
“No.”
We were both getting harder to manipulate.
Good.
Diane continued:
“I emailed Nora.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did you say?”
“Asked her to forward something to Emma if she ever hears from her.”
I closed my eyes.
“Mom.”
“She said no.”
That surprised me.
“What did you send?”
“An apology.”
“Did Emma ask for one?”
“No.”
“Then?”
Diane sounded irritated.
“I wanted to apologize.”
“That doesn't mean Nora has to deliver it.”
“I know.”
A pause.
“I know now.”
I almost smiled.
“What did Nora say?”
“That if Emma contacts her, she will tell Emma I asked to speak. Nothing more.”
Reasonable.
“How do you feel?”
“Like strangling her.”
I laughed despite myself.
My mother laughed too.
First time in weeks.
Then she became quiet.
“Rachel.”
“What?”
“Do you hate me?”
“No.”
Immediate.
She breathed out.
“I’m furious with you.”
“Okay.”
“You lied to me for twenty months.”
“Yes.”
“You let me turn Emma into a rescue mission.”
“Yes.”
“I also did that willingly.”
Diane said nothing.
I continued:
“You didn't invent the part of me that wanted to believe she was taken.”
My mother whispered:
“I know.”
“I didn't want Emma to choose away from me.”
“I know.”
We sat in separate cities with the same ugly fact.
Then Diane said:
“I found something while packing the posters.”
My pulse changed automatically.
I hated that.
“What?”
“Nothing secret.”
Good.
“A birthday card.”
I frowned.
“From Emma?”
“No. From you to her.”
I remembered.
Emma’s twenty-third birthday.
I had written:
Thanks for always being the person I can call.
At the time, I thought it was love.
It was love.
It was also a job description.
Diane said:
“I read it.”
“Why?”
“It was open.”
“Still not yours.”
She sighed.
“Right.”
Then:
“I’m mailing it to you.”
“No.”
She stopped.
“I don't want it.”
“Why?”
“Because I know what I wrote.”
I looked across campus.
A yellow shuttle stopped at the curb.
Students climbed off.
No fights.
No hidden hands.
“Keep it or throw it away.”
“You don't care?”
“I care.”
I thought.
“I just don't need every old object turned into a decision.”
My mother went quiet.
“Okay.”
Another small answer.
Then she said:
“I miss her.”
I closed my eyes.
“So do I.”
No fixing.
No search plan.
May you like
No next step.
We let missing someone be different from declaring them missing.
