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'AUNT LILI SENT THESE for you.' I show Mom the bag from the bakery.
Mom is standing at the foot of her bed, staring at the three open-and beyond full-suitcases and ticking things off on her fingers. She looks totally zoned out. She's a bit of an obsessive-compulsive when it comes to packing-which is exactly why I was hoping she'd be done when I got home.
'1 don't think I have enough bras.' she says, giving one of the suitcases a despairing look.
Since they're going to be gone for under two weeks, I'm guessing she has… twelve. And will end up packing fifteen. Just in case.
'One more,' she says. As she digs a bra out of her dresser-I turn away bceause I don't want to see anything lacy or sequin-y or feathery-she adds, 'Ten should be just enough.'
'I'm impressed,' I say, making my way to the head of the bed and carefully avoiding the suitcases as I flop back across the pillows. 'I expected you to take a dozen.'
She spins quickly toward me.
'No!' I backpedal. 'Of course n-'
'You're right.' She heads back to the dresser. 'Two more. Just in case.'
I could groan in frustration, but: (a) I've been through this whole packing enterprise dozens of times before: (b) I'm too exhausted from the training run: and (c) I'm still dwelling on Griffin. I mean, how can he not see that palling around with his
'What is that?' Mom asks, pointing at the brown paper bag sitting on my stomach. 'Do I need to pack it? Where will it go?'
'Relax, Mom,' I say, handing her the bag without sitting up. I knew she hadn't heard me. 'It's goodies from the bakery. You and Damian can eat them tonight. Or in the morning.' I close my eyes and sigh. 'Or never.'
The bed shifts as Mom sits next to my head.
'What's wrong. Phoebola?'
Her hand smoothes a stray lock of hair across my forehead and behind my ear. Eyes firmly shut, I slowly shake my head. If I talk about it, then therapist Mom might make an appearance. And the last thing I need right now is a shrunken head.
'Nothing.' I force a smile as I open my eyes. 'Just a hard run today.'
'Ooh, your first training session for the trials. How did it go?' Mom asks, proving she really has been paying attention to something other than honeymoon plans. 'You're not overworking yourself, are you?'
'We did a beach run,' I say, not answering the 'Mom' question-like there's such a thing as overworking when it comes to running? 'We're increasing gradually, but on an accelerated scale. Don't want to wear out our sneakers.' I force a little laugh.
'That reminds me.' She gets off the bed and crosses the room. 'I almost forgot our running shoes.'
While she tries to shove two pairs of Nikes-as if anyone in my family could own anything else-into an overstuffed bag, I go over to her vanity and sit on the little upholstered stool. The table is bigger and older than the one she had in L.A., but it's covered with the same collection of bottles and potions. Pulling the little stand mirror over in front of me, I check out my face. It's not a bad face. My skin is pretty clean and it's got kind of an athletic glow. Decent lashes and-my best feature-nice brown eyes. Puckering my lips, I wonder what I would look like in full face paint. I am not much of a makeup girl, but sometimes I envy those cover-model types. Those Adara types.
I push the mirror away and instead grab one of Mom's perfumes. I love the shapes of all the bottles, but this one is my favorite. The bottle is this long teardrop shape with a gold neck and a crystal ball on top. Dad gave it to her the day before he died.
Pulling off the crystal ball, I spritz a little on my left wrist.
The heavy scent of orchid and plum fills the air around me. Taking a deep inhale, I'm immediately filled with memories of Dad. His smile. His wink. His dirt- and grass-stained football jersey. Him waving to us from the grass-green-perfect turf of Qualcomm Stadium.
It's amazing how a scent memory can make seven years ago feel like yesterday.
As I rub my wrists together. I ask. 'Do you still miss him?'
In the vanity mirror I see Mom freeze.
I didn't mean to ask the question. We haven't talked about him since finding out he and I are descendants of Nike. Since finding out he died for football.
I should have kept my mouth shut. Talking about Griffin and Adara would be better than this edgy silence.
'Of course 1 miss him.' Mom finally says, 'Every minute of every day.'
She walks up behind me and puts her hands on my shoulders.
'Just because he's gone doesn't mean he isn't still with us.'
Her voice is so quiet and full of emotion I regret saying anything. She doesn't need me making her cry the day before her honeymoon. And I don't need another reason to cry today.
'I know.' I force a bright smile. 'Running makes me think of him.'
That's one of the reasons I love running so much.
'He's with you all the time.' She presses a kiss into the top of my head. 'Not just when you run.'
Great. More tears. Today has been a roller coaster, and I am so not used to being that girl. I've never felt as emotional as I do right now.
'I just- ' My throat tightens, but I make myself say the words that have been churning inside for nine long months. The question I'm afraid to ask, but that just won't stay locked away anymore. 'W-why did he do it?'
Her arms squeeze around my shoulders. I cover them with my own and squeeze back. For several long seconds we just hold each other, not moving, not saying a word. Like she's absorbing my pain, and I'm taking hers. We haven't shared such an intense moment since the day he died.
'I can't answer that, baby.' Her voice sounds small and quiet and a little lost. 'No one can.'
Sometimes I forget Mom is going through this, too.
Great, now I feef like a selfish cow on top of everything else. The last thing Mom needs is my emotional mess the night before her honeymoon. She deserves her happiness with Damian.
I straighten up and pat Mom gently, signaling my return to my senses. She gives me one more squeeze before releasing me and turns back to her suitcases. I quickly wipe at the residual tears.
'So, are you all packed?' I ask, spinning on the stool.
She looks nervously at the bed. 'I think so.'
'Great,' I say, hopping to my feet. 'Let's zip these up so we can go eat Aunt Lili's
As we close up the suitcases I try to keep my mind from drifting back to Dad. Or Griffin. Or anything else that might call back the tear patrol. Between Griffin and Adara and Dad and the powers test, it's a wonder I can go five minutes without breaking down.
'All done.' I say, pulling the last zipper tight.
Mom frowns. 'Maybe I need another pair of sandals.'
'You'll be fine.' I promise. 'Besides. If you take everything you need, how will you justify buying even more when you get there?'
'1 never thought of it that way.' Mom looks at me, a huge smile on her face. 'When did you get so devious?'
