“Sorry to keep you awake so late,” I say to Mitch, half sarcastically but half not, because I’m sort of touched that he stayed up. That he was worried.
“You didn’t keep me awake. She did. And Dad texted me like six thousand times asking if you were home yet.” He shows me his screen.
Huh. How about that. “I guess you can tell him I’m home and go to bed.”
“Whatever. I still have to finish my homework since I couldn’t focus, thanks to you.” He shoulder-checks me as he leaves. “Enjoy getting reamed out. You deserve it.”
I sit on the couch with Mom and fold my hands. I’m not going to enjoy it, but he’s right. I deserve it.
“So,” she says.
“I’m sorry I didn’t answer your texts and calls. But I need you to please stop making me feel like crap for having emotions.”
Her mouth opens and then closes. She wasn’t expecting that.
“When you do that, everything gets worse. I feel rejected and alone and like you don’t want me around. And then it just feeds on itself and makes me feel like crying even more.”
The anger melts from her face. “Honey, I—”
“I’m sorry I hid all this dog stuff from you. It was important to me and I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
She grimaces like she’s mad at herself. “Where’s the dog now?”
“I went to drop her off with someone who can take care of her. I’m going to tell Doctor Snyder I was keeping her in our old tent, and that she escaped and I can’t find her.”
Mom presses her lips together. “I’m not wild about you lying to him. But I see your logic.”
“Why does it have to be about logic? Why do emotions never get to play into it?”
She sighs. “I told you, honey. You’re so—” She reconsiders. “I just don’t want the world to hurt you for being vulnerable.”
“Are you trying to hurt me to toughen me up? Because that makes me feel guilty and wrong and bad. I need you to stop project-managing my feelings.”
She smiles ruefully. “Believe it or not, parents don’t know what to do in every situation the minute they have kids. We’re human too. We mess up.”
“Dad said that too.” I take a deep breath. I don’t want to tell her this, but secrets are exhausting and I’m wiped the hell out and don’t want to carry it anymore. I tell her about Grace being there when Ash and I biked to his apartment.
“I know about Grace.”
I jerk my head back. “What?”
“She worked at that big ad agency where your dad and I met. She’s a graphic designer. Really good one, actually. Now she’s a single parent of a kid who has medical problems. I’m not . . .” She leans forward with her elbows on her knees, and I see what she was saying about parents being human too. Not having all the answers.
It makes me feel connected to her.
“I’m not thrilled about the situation,” she says. “But your dad’s a good listener, and she needs a friend.” She shrugs. “I like her. Despite everything. She’s a good person with too much on her plate.”
I don’t know what everything means. I don’t think I want to. But I’m glad Mom knows what’s going on. That it’s not a big ugly secret Dad expects me to keep for him.
“I love you, kid.”
“I love you too, Mom.” It comes out rusty, and I realize I haven’t said it in a while. “I’m really freaking tired. Is it okay if I go to bed?”
Her face goes stern. “There’s going to be a consequence for this.”
“I know.”
“I’m not sure what it’ll be yet. Something that fits the crime of making me lose my mind with worry.”
“We could adopt a dog and you could make me take care of feeding and walking her and everything,” I suggest.
“Don’t push your luck.”
“Just a thought.”
“Get to bed. Of course you pulled this on a weeknight.” She yawns and rubs her head like she has a headache. “A few hours of sleep is better than none.”
We stand up. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just wanted to make sure the dog was okay.”
“I know. I get it.” She hugs me quick and lets go. “Stop growing, will you? You two have been shorter than me your whole lives, and now . . .” She swats at my arm. “I’m not used to this.”
“Tell me about it. My feet are so far away it’s like they belong to somebody else.”
“Go to bed. Off with you.” She shoos me down the hall. “Brush your teeth first. Your breath stinks like hamburgers.”
I hope Ash didn’t think so. “Sure, Mom. Good night.”
She surprises me with a hug-tackle from behind. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” she says in my ear. Then she kisses my head and pushes me toward the bathroom. “Good night, Danny.”
Mitch comes into my room a few minutes after I turn off my light. “I heard what you said about that Grace lady.” He sits at the foot of my bed. “What do you think’s gonna happen?” His voice is small in the darkness.
“I don’t know.” I really don’t. And I’m way too tired to think about it.
“Do you think we should worry? I mean, I never stop worrying about them getting divorced. But do you think we should like . . . worry harder?”
I laugh, but not in a mean way. “Doesn’t matter how hard you worry. Trust me.”
He gets up to leave, but stops at my doorway and turns. “I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk since Cole’s party,” he blurts. “And that he dumped you as a friend and that I roped you into that thing with Fiona.” He starts to step out.
“I’m sorry too.”
He turns back but doesn’t come in.
“I didn’t realize kissing Fiona would be such a big deal,” I say. “I didn’t want her to think I thought she was gross or something.”
“I guess it would’ve been awkward if you refused,” he says
