Chapter Thirty

September 1

The house is quiet when I get back. It looks so strange now. Each piece of furniture is an island in a sea of boxes, and the

walls are somehow so much more obvious without any of the framed pieces of art I’m used to.

“Mom?” Even with the carpet and the boxes, my voice still echoes, bouncing off the empty walls and bookshelf.

No answer. I go into the kitchen. The paper coffee cup from Magic Beans is sitting on the counter. I lean over and look through

the window over the sink. Mom’s sitting on the grass in the backyard, staring at the tire swing, Mr. Grumpy beside her.

I go out the back door. “Hey.”

She jerks, wiping at her eyes. “Hi, sweetheart.” She turns and looks up at me, and her face looks a little red. The saw from

the basement is sitting on the grass in front of her.

Wait a minute. Has she been crying?

I don’t remember the last time I saw my mom cry. She’s too stoic. Or too sunny. Or too... something.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Oh.” She waves a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. I just thought I’d try to finally cut down this tire swing, but it seems I

can’t actually do it by myself.”

I glance at the saw. And then back at the tire swing. Guilt twists inside me, because I told her I’d do it, and here we are,

the day before she’s supposed to move, and it’s still hanging from that tree branch. “Sorry, Mom, we can... I can help.

I’m sure we can get it down.”

“I know.” She pushes herself up, brushing off her shorts. “I just thought I could do it myself and save you the trouble, but then it was too hard to hold the swing and saw the rope at the same time.”

“It’s not a big deal.” I have no idea why she’s so upset over this. “I’m here. We can do it now.”

“Oh, this isn’t about the swing.” She wipes at her eyes again. “I just started thinking about all the memories I have of you

and this swing, and your uncle Darby and this swing, and I got a little sad for a minute.”

I blink in surprise. “What’s Uncle Darby got to do with the swing?”

“It used to be his swing. When he was younger. Your grandpa put it up here after you were born.”

She never told me any of this. Which I guess isn’t that surprising. She never talked about my uncle all that much. I always

assumed it made her too sad. He mostly existed as that picture on her dresser—Uncle Darby in his air force uniform, permanently

in his twenties. The only things I know about him are that he was five years younger than my mom and he died in some kind

of helicopter accident. And then she named me after him, because I was born shortly after he died.

I look back at the tire swing. No wonder it looks old. “I’m sorry.”

She sighs. “It’s okay. I’m ready to move on, and I have been for a while, it’s just... still sad.”

“Yeah,” I say, because I get it. Finally. The way you can love a place and be certain you’re ready to leave it. “Mom, I’m

going to go back to New York.”

She sniffs and looks up at me. “That’s what you want?”

It’s not challenging. She’s not trying to guilt-trip me. She’s just asking. Just making sure.

I nod. “Yeah. But... but I won’t, if you need me here.”

She lets her breath out with a huff. “Darby, I’m just fine. I’m moving into a condo! I won’t have to clean gutters or cut

down tire swings. And I have people. I’m not lonely or alone if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It is. But I guess she’s right. My mind goes back to the party on the roof deck and all the people who showed up for my mom. She might have beef with Jeannie’s yard penguins, but I have a feeling if I hadn’t been here and she really couldn’t cut this swing down by herself, she probably would have gotten Jeannie’s help. Or called one of her teacher friends. Or, hell, maybe she would have called Michael. Which is still a little weird to think about, but I should probably get used to it.

“I think my people are in New York,” I say, which feels a little cheesy, but it’s true. And I mean it.

She smiles and reaches out, wrapping her fingers around mine. “Well, I’ve got that second bedroom in the condo. It’s always

for you, anytime you want it.”

My throat tightens. “I’m going to come back and visit more.”

“Good. You should. I’m fine here by myself, but I still miss you. So does Grumpy.”

We both look down at the basset hound, who’s currently snoozing in the sun, long ears fanned out across the grass. He does

not look like he’s going to miss me at all.

“You have a place to go in New York?” Mom asks.

That makes me smile. I might be thirty now, but Mom will always mom. “Yeah. You know Olivia and Joan?”

She purses her lips, thinking. “Yes. Your gay friends.”

“All my friends are gay, Mom.”

She frowns. “That’s not true. You had that friend—the video game guy—he was straight.”

“I’m moving into the room that used to belong to his ex-boyfriend.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You need to call me more often, Darby. I can’t keep track of which of your friends are gay now and

who they’re dating.”

I open my mouth to tell her my friends have all been queer for a long time and none of their relationships are that new, and

change my mind. Because she has a point. I do need to call her more often. “Okay, well... Olivia and Joan need a roommate,

so I’m going to move in with them.”

“Good.” She nods approvingly. “When do you think you’ll leave?”

I let my breath out slowly. “After the movers come. Tomorrow.”

“Well, I’ve still got the TV plugged in,” she says. “After you pack up, we could watch some Marble Arch Murders. ”

“Definitely.” I gently untangle my fingers from hers, lean down, and pick up the saw. “But I think we better cut this down

first.”

She takes a breath—I see her shoulders rise. And then she nods. “It’s time.”

It only takes a few minutes to cut down the tire swing with my mom holding the tire steady and me sawing through the rope.

The rope is so dry and old that it sends dust and tiny rope bits flying everywhere before it finally parts, slithering off

the branch so fast that we both jump backward. The tire hits the ground with a thump and the rope lands in a pile on top of

it.

It takes both of us to heave the tire upright and roll it out of the backyard and down the driveway to the street.

“I’ll call and schedule a bulky item pickup,” Mom says. “It’s fine to leave it there until then.” She hesitates. “Who knows,

maybe someone will come by and pick it up and use it for their kids.”

I look down at the dried and cracked rubber, slowly wearing away around the indent made by the rope. “Maybe.”

***

JOAN CHU

Heard you’re coming back

OLIVIA HENRY

Can’t wait to be roommates!!!

IAN ROBB

Great. I’m gonna have so much FOMO

OLIVIA HENRY

You could quit being a hipster and move to Queens, Ian

I’m just saying

JOAN CHU

Do you need job leads, Darby? I can ask around

IAN ROBB

Yeah same! Let me know, Darb

ME

Thanks, guys. I’ll figure something out.

I mean I have no idea what I want to do.

But also, it’ll be fine. If I’m with you guys.

JOAN CHU

Oh yeah we’re not going anywhere. This is family. You’re stuck with us, bro.