Chapter 14

I didn’t go to school that day. School was a distant thought, a place I went to before. That word, before, now defined my life. The family that existed before my birthday and the family that existed after. Even then, nothing would ever be the same again.

When Dad had left, Mom went into her room to cry. Then she’d come out to clean up my birthday breakfast, which still sat out on the table, mostly untouched, and gone back into her room to cry again. Eventually she let herself into Alexis’s bedroom, clothes still strewn about and a soccer ball in the middle of the floor, and gently closed the door behind her. So much crying.

Kennedy followed her in that time. I probably should have too, but I felt sorry for myself and headed for my room instead.

I was fourteen now. A year older and a decade or two wiser than yesterday.

That evening, less than an hour before the concert, Mom came in with a box of pizza and set it on my bed. Her face looked blotchy and red, and her eyes were swollen. “Thought you might be hungry.”

I didn’t want to be hungry, but the smell made my traitorous stomach growl. “I’m not going to the concert.”

“You don’t have to go, sweetie. You don’t have to eat, either. This is for whenever you’re ready.”

Ready for what? To eat dinner and go to bed like nothing happened? Anger rose inside at the fact that my room looked just as it had this morning, before. None of my friends knew. None of my teachers knew. I couldn’t go to school and pretend my world wasn’t shattered.

“You guys are getting divorced, aren’t you.”

Mom took my hand. “Not because I want to, sweetheart. Just remember that.”

“Then go after him. You go after the people you love.” I leaned forward. “Whatever happened, you can make them come home.”

Mom swallowed hard. For a second I thought she would cry again, but she managed to hold it together. “I’ll fight for Alexis to come home, but your dad is an adult. He can do what he wants.”

“That’s it?” I exclaimed. “That’s all you’re going to say, that he can walk out of the family and it’s okay? Sorry, but no. I refuse to accept that.”

“Jillie—”

“You show us all these romance movies, but they’re all lies. That’s why you watch them, isn’t it? So you can pretend that’s what you have, because you don’t have it. You haven’t had that for a long time. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Mom didn’t answer.

The anger and pain nearly overwhelmed me now. I wanted to spew it all out onto my mom. She had to be the cause of this. Dad obviously thought so. If she’d done this, she could undo it. There had to be a way. But when I opened my mouth to tell her so, a single tear cascaded down Mom’s cheek and the words died in my throat.

As much as I suffered, Mom suffered more.

“Look, sweetheart,” Mom managed. She wiped her face and tried to smile. “As hard as this will be, I want you to remember something. This is not your fault and it has nothing to do with you. Okay? We failed. That doesn’t mean that you can’t find happiness someday with the man you choose to love.”

I snorted. “Yeah, love looks real happy.”

“Not every man will hurt you,” she continued. “Not every man is selfish and prideful and thoughtless. When you find one who isn’t, you hold onto him. Allow yourself to love him back, because that is precious. All right?”

I didn’t understand why she thought it necessary to give me dating advice right now. Not when the love of her life had just walked out the door and slammed it behind him. But it seemed important to her, so I nodded.

“Good. Then I have a gift for you, and it isn’t just pizza.” She pulled out another box from behind her back and handed it over. This must have been wrapped before, because she’d taken great care to wrap it with neat lines and a floppy bow. I loved opening presents wrapped in boxes, and she knew it.

I sat up in bed and untied the bow, then slid my finger under the paper, catching a glimpse of the image on the box. Then I tore the paper, my heart thudding in my chest. “Is this?”

Mom only grinned.

“A 35-millimeter EOS-1D X Mark II camera,” I breathed. “It’s new in the box!” This thing must have cost Mom thousands of dollars.

“Is it the right one?” she asked.

“Are you kidding? This is so much nicer than what I asked for. It even comes with everything. How could you afford it?”

“I had a little money set aside.” A flash of sadness crossed her face but disappeared within seconds. “Happy Birthday, honey. I only have one request.”

“I’ll remember that some guys are good and blah, blah, blah,” I said, already tearing the box open.

Mom put her hand on mine, bringing my attention back to her. “Explore the world with this camera, but remember that no camera compares to the five senses you already have. If you have to choose between capturing moments with your camera and capturing them in your heart, choose your heart.”

She was full of cryptic advice today. I just nodded and yanked the camera from the box. My first thought was to take photos at the concert before I remembered I wasn’t going. The tickets still sat on my dresser, where I’d placed them this morning. Before.

Leaving the camera, I slid off my bed and picked them up, reading the words printed on the top. TAYLER LAURIE. My life’s dream.

“I can take you,” Mom said softly. “I don’t know much about her, but it isn’t fair to you to miss it because of a decision your father made. Or I can drop off you and Kennedy if you want to go together.”

It was like offering popcorn with no butter or a rice cake instead of a birthday cake. The entire idea of the concert felt tasteless now. Pointless. A little ridiculous. The girl who loved Tayler Laurie yesterday wasn’t the same girl who sat on her bed tonight, talking to her mom about boys and the future. As much as I loved those songs about relationships and promises and trust, I couldn’t deal with all that right now. Not when I finally knew better.

Bye, Dad.

Without a word, I tore the tickets up.

Mom’s mouth slid open, then closed again.

I strode back to the bed, moved the camera aside, and opened the box of pizza. “You know what I really want to do?”

“Name it,” Mom said.

“Sleepover in the living room. All of us in our PJs, watching stupid kid shows and eating pizza.” Just like that time we watched Roman Holiday, only with all of us together. I wanted what remained of my entire family at my side tonight. “Unless you aren’t ready. If you need more time in your room, I understand.”

“There’s always tomorrow for that. I agree. Tonight should be a celebration. It isn’t every day a girl turns 14.” Mom jumped up to her feet. “Race you getting dressed.”