Page 98 of Bend

“That depends. Are you about to ruin beach day?”

“Hopefully not.”

“That sounded suspicious.”

A small smile pulls at his mouth, but it fades quickly.

“What was she like?”

I go still.

He doesn’t have to say her name.

I draw one knee toward my chest and wrap my arm around it, keeping my eyes on the water.

“She was complicated.”

“Helpful,” he says dryly.

A quiet laugh slips out of me. “Yeah, I know.”

Describing our mom is difficult.

I never know how to talk about her without sounding like I’m defending everything she did. But saying only the bad parts feels wrong too.

I don’t hate her.

Sometimes I wish I did. It would make losing her easier.

“She could be amazing,” I say. “When she was having a good day, she was funny and warm. She’d turn the music up too loud while she cooked and dance around the kitchen like someone was watching.”

Sayshen listens without interrupting.

“She was impulsive, but sometimes in a fun way. We’d get ice cream for dinner or drive to the beach in the middle of the night because she decided she wanted to hear the water.”

I drag my fingers through the sand.

“But other days, she could disappear while she was standing right in front of me. Her body would be there, but she wasn’t really with me. I never knew which version of her I was getting until she started talking.”

Sayshen lowers his gaze to his hands.

“I don’t remember her,” he says.

There’s no anger in his voice.

No attempt to make it sound sadder than it already is.

Just the truth.

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugs. “It isn’t your fault.”

“It still sucks.”

“Yeah.”

The waves move steadily in front of us.