Page 12 of See You in Your Dreams

I think of all the ways Mom could use the money in my college fund, from paying off overdue bills to making some much-needed home repairs. Maybe Tommy’s right. College will always be there waiting for me. I could put it off like he did and find a full-time job after I graduate. Then, once Patrick’s older and we’ve got some money set aside, I could consider going back to school.

The thought leaves a hollow pang in my gut, but I shove it down. I have to think about what’s best for my family, not just for me. And if that means delaying my dream, well…that might be a sacrifice I need to make.

five

Ash

Exhaustion weighs me downas I shut the front door behind me. It’s been a few weeks now since classes started, and while I’ve settled into my new routine, that hasn’t made the experience any more enjoyable. School’s just one more bit of tedium I need to endure until graduation. There’s nothing for me there except entirely too many people I wish I could avoid.

Well…except for one. And since our run-in outside the science labs, Dylan’s been content to avoid me all on his own. Not that I blame him after I’d pretty much shouted at him to do exactly that. I don’t know why I even care. I barely know the guy, and it’s better for both of us if it stays that way. The last thing I need is a repeat of Harvey, blowing up my life over a cute boy with shaggy hair, hand-me-down clothes, and kind eyes.

I start down the hall toward the living room, making a beeline for my room and blessed solitude, when I hear my aunt calling from the kitchen.

“Dylan? Is that you?”

Muffling a sigh, I swerve to find her sitting at the small table. She must’ve been waiting for me because she already has two steaming cups of tea set out, along with a tray of her favorite shortbread cookies.

“How was your day?” she asks as I reluctantly slide into the open seat across from her.

I cup my hands around the mug. “Fine.”

“Anything exciting happen?”

I fix her with an incredulous look, and she snorts.

“Fair. I never liked school either. Why waste all that time learning useless crap I won’t need in the real world?”

It’s not so much the lessons as it is the other people that annoy me, but I don’t bother correcting her.

She grabs a cookie and dips it in her tea. Once it’s good and mushy, she chomps into it. I glance down, staring into the steam rising from my cup and letting it wash over my face. The soothing scent of mint fills my nostrils.

I’m about to rise and make my escape when she asks, “And the other students? Have you made any friends?”

An image of Dylan grinning down at me in that shadowed alcove hovers before my eyes. I shove it away. “Sure.”

“Anyone giving you trouble? I remember how cruel teenagers can be.”

This time, I think of Greta. My lips twitch. If overeager friendliness is the worst I have to face, I’m probably doing pretty good. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

My aunt smirks at that. “I’m not surprised. The moment I saw you on my doorstep, I could tell you have an independent streak to rival your mama’s.”

Tightness clenches my chest. I force my face into a stoic mask, determined not to let my roiling emotions show. Thinking of Mom is more a dull ache than a sharp pain at this point, its bitelessened after all these years. But some wounds never fully heal—especially when they’re self-inflicted.

Despite my best efforts, Aunt Claudette must sense the shift in my mood because her expression firms. After one last sip of tea, she sets her cup aside and leans over the table toward me. Her necklaces shift and jangle.

“I know you’re holding back from me, Ash. That’s fine. I didn’t expect this to be an easy transition for you, and I don’t pretend to understand what you’re going through. But I want you to know that I’m here if you ever need to talk. Even if it’s about Hannah.” Pinpricks of moisture shimmer in her eyes. “I hope you know I loved her dearly, despite our occasional disagreements.”

Hearing Mom’s name flashes me back, and for a terrible moment, I’m thirteen again sitting rigidly in a folding chair at the funeral home listening to people I barely know talk about what a loving, wonderful person she’d been. As if I hadn’t just gone through the same pointless ritual a couple months earlier for Dad. As if the cause of my mom’s too-soon demise wasn’t sitting in the front row, struggling to hold himself together while his remaining world crumbled.

My hands tighten around the porcelain until I’m afraid it might shatter in my grip.If you loved her so much, why didn’tyousay a eulogy for her?I suddenly want to scream.Why didn’t you give a shit about her only child and take care of him instead of ignoring him for half a decade?

“Thanks for the tea,” I manage. My voice sounds cold and lifeless to my ears as I rise stiffly. “I’m going to go for a walk before it gets dark.”

“Don’t forget a jacket!” Aunt Claudette shouts after me as I dart out of the kitchen. “It’s supposed to drop to the fifties tonight, and the forecast is calling for rain!”

I pretend not to hear, shutting the front door and letting my headthunkback against the wood. I take a moment to gather myself, closing my eyes as I inhale.

Everything is fine. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine. I’mfine.