Her voice came out thick and she wondered if she’d be able to stand up. Her
legs felt so heavy. She began to tremble.
Sounding almost panicked, Dev said more sharply, “Leslie. Get off.” She
grasped Leslie’s hips and pushed her away as she levered herself into a standing
position. “I gotta go.”
Leslie stared in an unfamiliar daze as Dev straddled her bike, kicked the engine
over, and roared away, leaving Leslie lonely in a way she’d never
experienced.
“Leslie,” Eileen Harris said, giving Leslie a concerned look. “Are you feeling all
right?”
“What?” Leslie said, looking around the kitchen as if she’d never seen it before.
She blinked and the past receded. “Sure. Just daydreaming.”
Eileen rinsed her hands in the sink and dried them on a dish towel.
“I guess Devon wasn’t exactly the kind of girl who would have ? t in very well
back then.”
Leslie’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
“I didn’t mean anything negative by it,” Eileen said, clearly surprised by the heat
in Leslie’s voice. “She’s obviously intelligent and very nice. She just seems…
well, I can’t picture her as a girl interested in the things you and your friends—”
• 71 •
RADCLY fFE
“Thanks, Mom,” Leslie said, rising quickly. She stalked to the sink and ? ung
the dregs of her coffee into it before banging the cup down on the counter. “You
make the rest of us sound like we were airheads who spent all our time ? xing
our hair and gossiping.”
Eileen’s eyebrows rose. “I wasn’t judging you or your friends, I just meant that
she seems different.”
“Different?” Leslie folded her arms over her chest. “Different from who? Who
you think we were or who we really were? Did you even have any idea who I
was?”
“I thought so,” Eileen said quietly. “At least as much as you let me know.”
“Me?” Leslie wanted to pace. More than that, she wanted to scream. That was
the moment she realized she was losing control, and she very deliberately shut
the door on her anger and her hurt. It was as if a cold wind blew through her,
obliterating the emotions that threatened to cloud her judgment and disturb the
balance she prided herself on having. “This is a ridiculous conversation. Those
things are long past, and whatever either of us did or didn’t do doesn’t matter
anymore.”
Eileen poured herself a cup of coffee. Quietly, she said, “Do you really believe
that?”
“Believe what?” Leslie said, comfortable now that reason ruled.
She and her mother had this kind of conversation every time they were in the
same room together for more than an hour. Since the day she’d left for college,
something critical in their relationship had changed.
They couldn’t agree on anything anymore.
“That things left undone, unresolved, don’t haunt us. That we can just walk
away from the past as if it never happened?” Eileen’s voice was pensive, tinged
with sadness. But there was no challenge, no accusation.
“I know that people change, everything changes. We are who we are now.”
What she didn’t add was strangers.
“Well, it might be nice to get acquainted again.”
Part of Leslie wanted to believe that, and part of her wondered how to begin.
She wasn’t even sure she wanted to try. “You should ? nish making breakfast.
All the guests will be clamoring at the door in a minute. Why don’t I help.”
“You can get the eggs out of the refrigerator,” Eileen said, turning
• 72 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
back to the stove and sliding a large skillet over the gas burners. “Ever hear
from Mike?”
Leslie froze with the door to the refrigerator half open. “No.
Why?”
“He lives in the area and we see him from time to time. He always asks about
you.”
“I don’t think we’d have anything in common any longer.”
Eileen slit the plastic on a pound of bacon and lay strips in a cast-iron pan. “Are
you seeing anyone special?”
There it was, the opening that Leslie needed to tell her mother just how little she
actually knew of her. She realized that her mother was just making casual
conversation, and not probing for private information. The decision was hers—
reveal herself, or preserve the comfortable distance she had created between
herself and her family, and by extension, all that had existed up until the day
she’d left for college.
“I’m seeing someone,” Leslie said, wondering how to characterize her
relationship with Rachel. Not exactly serious? That wasn’t quite true. It was
exclusive and reasonably long term, so didn’t that make it serious? On the
surface it seemed that way, but that wasn’t how it felt.
In fact, the only word that came to mind was casual. Well, it wasn’t necessary
to examine all the details, when only one was truly relevant.
“A woman.”
The fork in her mother’s hand stilled above the pan of sizzling bacon for just a
second, then she resumed turning the meat. “Is that something recent?” She
looked at Leslie over her shoulder. “I never realized you were interested in
women that way.”
You never told me. The accusation hung in the air and Leslie carefully edged
around it. Trying to explain why she’d never mentioned it meant revisiting events
and feelings that had no place in her life now. She slid the cardboard carton of
eggs onto the counter next to her mother. “I’ve known for a few years. Since
college.”
“That’s quite a long time now,” Eileen said, the hurt evident in her tone.
“I guess it is.” Leslie sighed, knowing she’d added another disappointment. “It
just never seemed to come up.”
“But this is what you want? You’re happy?”
• 73 •
RADCLY fFE
Happy. Why was that the word that everyone used to de? ne what mattered?
As if that were all that anyone should strive for, some ? eeting, irrational, and
often false emotion. “It’s who I am.” She re? lled her coffee cup and started
toward the door. “I’m going to skip breakfast. I’ll see you later.” She didn’t
wait for her mother’s reply.
