Page 224 of The Storm

“I think… She never said anything, but…” She shrugs helplessly. “I think there was a part of her that felt guilty because we were giving Go and Dia things she couldn’t give Nick.”

Nick’s jaw tightens. I put my hand on his thigh and keep it there. He doesn’t relax, but he stays in place.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but insecurities usually do when you say them out loud.” She clears her throat. “I’m assuming. She started pulling away. Canceling visits. Making excuses.”

Nick is practically vibrating with tension by now.

“And?” he bites out.

Mom presses her lips together. “We offered to pay your pre-school fees,” she says quietly. “She cut all contact after that.”

“So it’s her fault?” Nick snaps.

“No,” Mom says, unexpectedly composed suddenly. “She took that last step, but I… There was a part of me that was relieved. Every time you two met, you gravitated toward each other.”

My head snaps up. Mom smiles sadly.

“Always. The adults would spend weeks recovering after every visit, but you’d ask about him all the time,” Mom says, looking at me. “When you two were playing together, it was like you were in a world of your own.”

Something painful twists in my chest. “But she left anyway.”

“She left because she thought it would hurt less,” Mom says.

“Did it?”

“In a way,” Mom says softly. “We could stop cutting the wound open every other week.”

“That’s a pretty fucking selfish way to look at it,” Nick says.

Mom lets out a mirthless laugh. “Believe me, I’m aware.” She looks straight at me this time. “I have a lot of regrets. I’ve made a lot of wrong choices.”

After that we run out of things to say. Mom’s eyes move between me and Nick as if she’s waiting. Maybe for more questions. Something else she can answer.

I don’t have anything right now. I’m exhausted, and we haven’t even been here that long.

I’m the first to stand up. Nick sends me a startled look.

“Thanks for telling us,” I say.

Nick gets up, too. And Mom.

She follows us to the front door and watches silently while we put on our sneakers. She looks resigned more than anything else.

Nick opens the door and steps outside. I start to follow him, but then I hesitate. I glance at Nick and then at my mother.

“I’m not… I’m not closing the door on this,” I say quietly. “I’m keeping it open. But I also think we need a bit of time before we… invite you through it.”

It would be easier to walk away. At least, that’s how it feels right now. It would be easier to drive away without looking back and hide all the hurt deep inside. Build a wall between the past and the present and hide behind it.

It would be easier.

But easier doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the right choice.

“I’ll be waiting,” Mom says. “Me and your dad. We’ll both be here. For both of you.”

I’d like to think I’m strong enough to do better. I would like to do better.

When I look at Nick, I find him eyeing me with patience. Understanding. There’s a long road ahead. We’re only at the beginning. There’s still time to choose another path if we want to. Whatever we decide, we’ll do it together. Knowing that makes me feel much lighter than I ever thought I would.