Page 72 of I'm Gonna Get You Back
But maybe that’s exactly what it means.
Maybe Josh, of all people, was right that she’s behind Legacy Lore. That she spilled this to let me know. To hurt Reid.
I realize I’m driving faster than I mean to when the approaching stoplight turns red and I have to slam on my brakes to avoid careening into the intersection. People are milling around the town square, talking, laughing—acting like the world didn’t just shatter.
Waiting here, I pull in a shaky breath and remind myself thatIwas the one who broke things off with him. I was the one who wanted him to move on. Now that I know he has, I can finally shut down the ridiculous, pathetic hope that there’s anything left between us. I can finally stop wondering if I did the right thing.
It’s really over.
My spine bows as I hunch against the steering wheel, my shoulders shaking with heavy, fresh sobs. The pain acute from losing him all over again.
A quick honk behind me alerts me that the light’s changed. I swipe my sleeve across my eyes and keep driving.
By the time I pull into my driveway back home, all the Suarezes’ cars are gone, the house dark and silent. Matching my mood perfectly.
Sadness is contagious here. Sometimes it gets so big it becomes the center of everything—this immovable, choking force driving everyone away from us.
“Mom?” I call out, kicking off my shoes.
She doesn’t respond, but I see a glow under her bedroom door. I take in a bracing breath as I pad down the short hallway to check on her, flipping on light switches as I go. The old wood door creaks as I open it, and the television lights her room. Mom is lying in her bed, covered by a rose-colored quilt up to her waist, eyes puffy and nose red as she watches.
I guess I was wrong about this dip not being that bad. Legacy stuff is always triggering for her. Once I lost my Legacy spot, she was despondent, and I wondered if my failure felt like her loss all over again. How she had to give up her own scholarship and dreams to have me because Dad wasn’t willing to do the same.
I hate that I couldn’t do right by her by winning my own shot at becomingsomeone.
And it was all made worse by Dad not coming home this weekend like shestillhoped he would. A part of me wishes I could just scream,He’s never coming back!
But I never would because I now understand what wishing for another chance does to a person.
I keep my grip tight on the brass doorknob, half in, half out.
“Mama?”
She blinks, startling a little. “Clara? Aren’t you supposed to be out with your friends today?” She sits up, smoothing her mussed bedhead.
“I was, and I’ll have to leave again in a bit for the play,” I say, my nose stuffy from crying.
“All that Legacy nonsense.” Her voice is imbued with bitterness. “What are you doing running around filming all the events? You shouldn’t give them your talents after what they did. Doesn’t it enrage you still?”
My gaze falls to my feet. She knows it does.
“Does it still make you mad you lost it, too?” I counter.
Mom’s eyebrows spring up in surprise at the question, and she pauses her show. I gnaw on my bottom lip, desperate for her to share some sort of wisdom that might help me understand what I’ve been feeling all weekend. All year.
She seems to decide something when she waves a hand in the air and sighs. “Oh, hon, it was a long time ago.” She unpauses the show.
My exhale shakes a little, but I hide my disappointment in another question. “Don’t you have to work tonight?”
She smooths a hand down her shirt, only just noticing a tea stain. Her fingertips worry over the spot, trying to hide it from me. “Called in sick.”
I roll my lips in so I don’t say,Again?
I try to be patient and understand. To remind myself that depression doesn’t have a rhythm or a reason. That the gravity of it becomes so strong, it’s like nothing else exists to her. Not eating or showering or… me. That it just is.
But it also just sucks.
I tap my thumb against the doorknob several times before finally asking, “You’ve been taking your meds, right?”
