Page 82 of The Music of Us
Everything in my life so far would point to no.
People proved and maintained their love by being there. What would happen if I got wrapped up in my new life and then couldn’t?
Mom leaned forward, making sure I could see her face as she said, “You’ll always be connected to this place. I promise. Nothing between us is going to weaken just because we’re apart. And wanting to grow up and follow your own dreams doesn’t mean you love where you’re from any less. I know you’ve seen leaving in a bad light, but it’s not always like that. And it doesn’t have to change anything that actually matters.”
I gave her a skeptical look.
“You carry your love wherever you go. That doesn’t change. It’s just that, sometimes, the ways we’re able to express itchanges,” Mom told me. “And yes, you’re right, being there for someone matters—”
“See?”
“But,” Mom continued firmly, raising her eyebrows, “it’s important to understand that it’s not always proximity or distance that prove whether you’re there for someone or not.”
My eyebrows drew together in confusion. “How’s that?”
“We’re only human; no matter how hard we try, even you have to admit it’s impossible for someone to be thereallthe time. You being there for me doesn’t mean you have to put your life on hold or push yourself past what you can handle. Me being there for you means I’d never ask you to do something that I know would hurt you,” she explained. “It’s about meeting in the middle. What matters isn’t always changing circumstances, but how much you still love someone and try to make things workdespitethem, and how we’re there for that person in whatever way’s actuallypossible.” She squeezed my hand again, making sure I was listening. “When you go off to college, you’ll still be there for me, just in a slightly different way. You’ll still care enough to call me, right?”
“Of course.” Going away didn’t mean I’d stop talking to her.
“And you’ll still ask how the café’s going, and help me with the website if I ask. You’ll still visit me on your breaks and tell me all about the new experiences you’re having. We’ll still talk to each other if we’ve had a bad day or tell each other when we’ve had a good one. You going away doesn’t change that. We’ll still be in each other’s lives in the way that counts. Love is more complex than just simply being physically present. And it’s so much stronger for it.”
I sat with what she said, while also thinking back on what had happened lately. But while Mom’s words warmed me, I stillfelt apprehensive about the future and everything I had to lose. “What if the livestream doesn’t work out?”
“Then we’ll be there for each other in that future too, no matter where we each end up. And if you want to discuss reservations about why college might not be for you, that’s okay. But you workedso hardfor this scholarship. And if the only thing holding you back is worry, then you’ve got to let that go.” She smoothed my hair back. “Even if the café closes, I’ll still figure out a way to be there for the cats too, whether it’s volunteering at a shelter or joining another program or raising awareness.”
I nodded, understanding. “Because when you love something or someone that much, you’ll figure out a way to be there in whatever way you can, even if it’s not perfect.”
“That counts for small ways too, you know,” Mom said. “Not just big gestures. But in little things, every day. Even when it’s not pretty or fun. Sometimes those things mean the most.”
I let her words sink in, trying to restructure the belief I’d been carrying around all my life.
“Let me go start the water for some tea, okay?” Mom said, rubbing my arm. “We could both use some.”
Mom stood carefully, walking toward the kitchen, and I sat there for a minute, still thinking about our entire conversation, until I suddenly realized something.
Since Jake used the kitchen, there’d be stuff to clean up. Our sink was tiny, so it would be awkward trying to fill the teakettle while there was a frying pan in there. Besides, I always made a mess when I cooked, leaving bits of eggshells and yolk on the stove and crumbs strewn across the counters. I always tidied up, obviously. I just hated it. But I didn’t want Mom to have to stand any more than she had to and deal with that.
“Hey, Mom, wait,” I called, getting up and striding into the kitchen after her. “Let me—”
But when I got into the kitchen, I stopped in my steps, heart pounding in my chest.
The counter was spotless. The sink was empty. The stove was perfectly clean.
Little things, Mom said.
But it felt like something big.
Chapter Twenty-One
You’re a tempest in fragile skin
Inhibitions paper thin
You’re the sand in an hourglass
Falling through my mind as the seconds pass
Oh, honey, I don’t got a chance
