Don't Let Go

After texting Hayden that Becca was back safe and sound, and asking-slash-begging him not to come confront her just yet, she and I went back to the bookstore. Ruthie made hot chocolate—the real kind, not powder from a packet—and left us alone in a far corner couch.

She was softer, I noticed. More introspective. Seth was good for her.

“So is this store going to me one day?” Becca asked after a long moment when neither of us knew where to begin.

She’d never asked me that before, and honestly it had never crossed my mind. Odd, that.

“Do you want it to?” I asked. Becca looked at me uncomfortably and shrugged. “No, seriously,” I said. “Be honest with me.”

She took another sip and licked her lips. “Not really,” she said. “I’m sorry, it just isn’t something I can ever see myself doing. Sitting in a bookstore reading? Yes. Running one?” She shook her head.

Boy, I knew that feeling, and it gave me the willies all the way to my toes.

“Okay,” I said simply.

“You’re not upset?” she said.

Not about that. “Not at all,” I said. “You should do what you want. I wasn’t given that choice.” Echoes, echoes, déjà vu.

She gave me a long look. “I don’t want to be a teacher, either, Mom.”

I took a slow swallow from my mug. “I kind of picked that up. So what do you want to be?”

“I don’t know for sure,” she said, looking down into her cup.

I let some moments pass. “Tell me about today.”

Becca grimaced. “Can we just pretend I went shopping or something?” she asked.

I raised an eyebrow. “Sure. How was the shopping on Cayman Boulevard?”

She chuckled and looked away, probably surprised that I played. I was surprised that I played. Not my normal way. Maybe Seth was good for me, too.

“Not good,” she said. “I didn’t buy anything.”

Goose bumps. I looked at her. “Why not?”

She shrugged. “Wasn’t ready to, I guess. Decided to save my money for—something worth spending it on. Maybe wait for something I can’t live without,” she added softly.

I had no words to describe how that floored me. All I could do was stare at her in awe. She’d made her own choice. Made her own rule for herself. Her own rule.

Granted, she’d skipped school and snuck off to do it, but I had to recognize the hugeness of what she had done.

“I think that was a brilliant decision,” I said when I found my tongue.

Becca met my gaze. “And if I’d went the other way?”

I cleared my throat. “Well, I guess I wouldn’t be able to say much, would I?”

Memory clouded her expression. “I shouldn’t have said that about Seth—about you—I’m sorry.”

I touched her hair. “It’s okay, babe. There was truth in it. It’s a hard truth for a parent to justify, is all.” She nodded and ran a finger around the rim of her half-empty mug. “I’m very proud of you, Bec,” I said, feeling the burn behind my eyes. I swear I was going to dehydrate. “That was a very grown-up decision you made.”

She looked up and misted over as she smiled. “Grown-up enough to not get punished?”

“Oh, no.”

She laughed. “Yeah, it was worth a shot.”

“It was, but the playing hooky part of your day takes the grown-up part down.”

“I know.” She covered her face. “God, what does Dad know?”

“Enough,” I said. “You need to talk to him like this. He deserves it.”

“That’s what Seth said.”

I turned sideways to face her. “How did all this go down with Seth?”

Becca swept her hair back and it fell in its little choppy layers.

“He was sitting on the hood of his truck all badass right outside the door of the—” She stopped and gave me a sideways glance. “The mall.”

It was all I could do not to spit hot chocolate. “Of course.”

“Mark about pissed himself,” she said. “Then Seth told him he could leave, that he’d take me home.”

“And you just said, Okay, see ya, Mark?” I asked, incredulous.

If Hayden or I would have done that, there would have been sounds only dogs could hear. Seth was right.

She held up a hand. “I don’t know, I guess I was so embarrassed that he was sitting there waiting on me, it didn’t even cross my mind to argue.”

“Wow.”

She rubbed at her face. “Then he brought me to St. Vernon’s.”

I blinked. “What?”

She looked at me questioningly. “It’s a place for teenage mothers that have nowhere to go.”

“I—I know,” I said, my voice cracking. “I’ve been there.”

Becca’s expression changed as her thoughts took off. “Did you—have to go there?” she asked.

“Briefly,” I said, my stomach going sour at the memory. “My parents thought a weekend there would change my mind about keeping him.”

Becca’s eyes filled. “Did it?”

“Probably,” I whispered.

“Seth volunteers there once a month,” Becca said. “Talking to people who need it.” She wiped away two tears. “Takes on a whole new meaning now, when you know him,” she said. “I wish I could have grown up with him.”

“You wouldn’t have, baby,” I said, swiping under my eyes. I’d come to terms with that. “If Noah and I had stayed together and got to keep Seth, I wouldn’t have met your dad and wouldn’t have you now.” I took a deep breath. “Everything happens for a reason.”

“That’s messed up, Mom,” she said, more tears falling.

“Life generally is, baby.”

“I don’t want messed-up crap like that,” she said, hiccupping through her tears.

I laughed and hugged her head to me. My baby girl. “I don’t want messed-up crap for you either, baby. Let’s hope for the best.”

• • •

The next week went by in a haze of the normal things most people take for granted. I used to. It was hard to remember that. Just weeks earlier I’d gotten up and gone to work every day, made sure Becca had what she needed, made sure our little world was in order, ate, slept, and did it all again the next day.

Things may not have been shiny, but they made sense.

Now, Becca and I were doing better, but it was taking large amounts of pretend patience on my part. Trying not to be my mother proved harder than I even wanted to acknowledge. And then there was that other thing.

That thing I kept trying to ignore or forget or at least not care about, when in reality some part of every hour seemed to ring a little Noah chime in my head.

Interestingly enough, where he’d been friggin’ everywhere before, now he and Shayna had both disappeared off the grid. Which probably didn’t help my chiming. I had no idea what their status was, where they were, and there was no way in hell I was going to ask anyone. The closest I’d come was chatting up Linny on the sidewalk one evening, and she talked about everything else but Noah. I know. I waited it out.

What I did have was photos. I’d printed out the ones of me and Seth and of him and Becca, and framed them for the living room tables. Finally, I had both my kids there, without hiding or secrets. I could look at him every day. Twice, I attempted to do something with some of his baby pictures, but I couldn’t do it. I was glad to have them, but they represented pain and betrayal to me. Of a time where my mother got to know of him but kept it all from me. So I put them all back in the book box, put the whole thing in a plastic tub to protect it, and set that back on the shelf. I could go there if I chose to, but I would rather look at the photos taken now, where everything was out in the open. There would be more. I’d make sure of it.

There was another photo I still hadn’t seen. But just knowing it was there was enough.

On Friday night, I decided to take Becca out for dinner before she headed off to spend the night with Lizzy and her family. They preferred that so that they could get an early start with the float the next morning. Good grief.

Of course, Becca picked the damn diner for our dinner out, which blew my mind. Of all the good places to go, she wanted the same crap we ate for lunch all the time. Or I did. And she did when she wasn’t eating at school. Which was more frequent than she admitted.

I didn’t want to go there at night—not that I was afraid of someone being there, but then again maybe I was. I was accustomed to the lunch crowd. He didn’t show much for that, and I could relax. I had no idea who to expect for the dinner crowd. Geez, I had to move on.

“You sure you don’t want to go get Mexican or Italian or something?” I said as we pulled in front of the diner.

Little snowflakes frosted the glass, and red flyers were on a box outside the door. Red flyers were everywhere now. On every street post and every corner. On the far end of the park, the carnival rides were already set up, just waiting for the next day to kick things off. Just two more days of this, I told myself. Tomorrow would be chaos and crazy people on cheap floats, kids waiting for candy and carnival rides, and the chili battle would commence. The next day would be more of the same, but wrapping up at nightfall.

“We could even go to Katyville,” I said. “We don’t have to stay here.”

“Nah, I want to go here,” she said. “This is home.”

True, and I loved that, but home was kind of beating me with a stick lately.

“Okay,” I said on a sigh, getting out of the car.

A quick perusal of the other parked cars didn’t produce any heart palpitations, and I mentally kicked myself for feeling disappointed by that. Good Lord, I was losing it.

Linny was getting off as we walked in, and she met Becca with a giant hug.

“You don’t get enough of this place already?” she asked, laughing, her round face looking softer with her hair pulled down.

I realized I hardly ever saw her that way. Like her sole existence was in that diner. I gave a little shiver at that thought, hoping no one ever looked at me that way. Like I was a walking bookstore.

“Becca’s choice,” I said, shrugging.

“Well, at least you get a discount,” she said, winking as she walked out the door.

I frowned, confused. “Discount?”

“Counter tonight?” Becca asked, her eyes all giddy.

Just kill me. “How about that booth right by the counter,” I said, pointing. “Compromise.”

“Deal,” she said.

“What is with you tonight?” I asked, studying her as we sat. “You’re all, like, sparkly and stuff.”

“And what do you have against sparkly?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “Except I’m gonna check behind your ears for alien cloning when we get home. Somebody sucked the smart-ass out of you.”

Becca laughed. “Nah, it’s still there, I’m just learning to channel it.”

“Oh, that’s so much better,” I said, sitting back in the seat. “Good to know you’re still in there.”

“Ha ha,” she said with her customary eye flutter.

A waitress I didn’t know walked up, which was weird enough. Her nudging Becca with a grin upped the oddness. Her tag said Chloe, and she was easily twenty-five, so not a friend from school. And then I reminded myself that I didn’t need to know everything and to back off the crazy train.

In honor of the night, I ordered something completely different. Becca’s favorite, the shrimp po’boy. With onion rings. And fried okra. And a Coke.

Her look of utter astonishment was so worth the saturated fat I was going to ingest.

“I’ll have the same, with sweet potato fries,” she said.

“Amen,” I said.

“Cool, I’ll put your discount in,” Chloe said, walking away.

There was that word again. “What discount?” I asked.

Johnny Mack came out from the kitchen and pulled some plates from the hot tray, barking orders to Chloe and another girl I didn’t know.

Becca bit back a grin, and then laughed. “I got a job.”

Didn’t see that one coming.

“You did what?” I asked.

“Got a job,” she said, sitting up proudly. “I start next week, on the night shift, and when summer comes I’ll maybe get moved to days.”

“You—” My head tried to put the words together. Not the job part. The working at the diner part. “Here?” I said. “Like, here here?”

“This very shift,” she said.

I felt my face grimace. “Needed a challenge, did you?” I glanced over at Johnny Mack, who did a double take on me, and then winked—winked—at Becca before griping about a plate that was wrong to someone behind him.

Becca snickered as I gasped.

“What the fuck was that?” I said, the sentence falling out of my mouth before I could remember who was sitting with me. I clapped a hand over my mouth.

“Mom!” she said, full-out laughing. “Such language.”

“Explain,” I mumbled behind my hand.

She shrugged, although her pleased expression was priceless. “We’ve been talking.”

“You’ve been—talking,” I repeated, before the crazy bubbled up. Tired laughter worked its way out and I leaned my face into my hands. “Wow.” To be a fly on that wall.

“Is it okay? Me working here?” she said. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Success. It was a surprise.

“Yes—yes, baby, it’s fine,” I said, chuckling and squeezing her hand. “I’m just—taken by surprise, is all.” I looked over at Johnny Mack again with skepticism. “Especially on his end.”

“He’s all right,” she said, rearranging the sweetener packets. “He’s more noise than anything else.”

I licked my lips, so many responses waiting to fly out, but I swallowed them back. My past with him didn’t matter. She had her own path to make, and she didn’t need my funk messing it up. Besides, maybe it was his way of moving forward, mending fences and all that. And if she could handle him—

“I’m proud of you, Bec,” I said. “Of who you are—who you’re becoming. The world’s a crazy, mad place, and I think you’re gonna be okay in it.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Mom.” Then lightbulbs went off in her eyes. “That can be my tattoo!”

I blinked. “Say what?”

“My tattoo!” she reiterated. “There’s a line in Alice In Wonderland that the Mad Hatter says, ‘We’re all mad here . . .’” she said, holding up her wrist. “That would look awesome on my wrist.”

Well, I had a few short seconds, anyway.

“So, have you thought any more about college?” I said, phrasing my words carefully. Didn’t want to come across as controlling, or planning her life, or rule-enforcing, or any of the other various crimes I’d been labeled with.

Her eyebrows came together as she looked down at her silverware, studying them as if they held an answer to my question.

“Compromise?” she said, looking up.

Cute, I thought, playing on my words. But her eyes were serious for once, not defensive as they usually were on the subject. Steeling myself, I smiled.

“I’m listening.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, which did nothing to reassure me.

“What if I wait a year?” she said. “And then decide.”

The old reflexes and irritability over disarray and laziness started boiling under my skin. Wait for what, Becca? Why? So you can be a waitress? Ask Linny how much she enjoys a lifetime career of that.

That was just the kick-start of the comebacks tickling my tongue. There were more. And as I looked around to see where my Coke was so I could drown them, I found myself looking up at Noah.