Totally and Completely Fine(77)

He was holding tight to my hand, and I didn’t know if he even realized it.

“If we were different people, maybe I could say something about our journeys and our place in this world and a greater purpose, but I think you’d think it was just as much bullshit as I do,” I said. “I don’t know why Spencer is dead and you’re here. There’s no reason to it. No greater purpose, no lesson to be learned. There’s nothing good about his death. But I am glad that you’re here.”

A tear slid down his cheek.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” he said.

He wrapped an arm around me, and I leaned into him. In some ways, he felt so much like Dad these days, and if I were someone who believed in a greater purpose maybe I’d allow myself to think that was the reason he was still here. But I didn’t believe that, so I just let myself be held.

Chapter 40

Now

The door was closed, and I knocked, but when there was no answer, I opened it anyway.

Lena was lying on the bed, facing away from me, draped over her comforter like dirty laundry. She didn’t look up when I entered, not even when I sat down on the edge of the mattress.

“Lena,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” she said, still looking at the floor, her words half muffled by the arms she had folded under her chin.

“For what exactly?” I asked.

“Drinking,” she said. “It was gross anyways, and I never want to do it again.”

I certainly hoped that was the case since addiction was often hereditary. But that was a conversation for another time.

“I’m glad to hear it,” I said.

I traced the patterns on her bedspread. Little stars intermingled with swirls of color. It wasn’t the one we’d bought on a recent Target run. This was an old one. I could feel its well-earned softness, the kind that only came from generations of washing.

“You and Eve,” I said. “How long?”

Lena shrugged. “We’re not really into labels.”

It was the most thirteen-year-old thing to say, and I almost laughed. But I didn’t.

“Right,” I said, seriously. “Of course.”

We were both silent.

“We might have to reconsider sleepovers now,” I said.

Did we? I wasn’t sure of the rules.

“Okay,” Lena said, and then looked at me. “You don’t mind?”

“Mind what?”

“The whole”—she extracted an arm to give it a generalized wave—“you know, liking girls thing?”

“Of course not,” I said. “I love you. No exceptions.”

I hadn’t realized she needed my approval, but of course she did.

“Honey,” I said, “I think Eve is great. And I think you’re the best—at least, in between the times when you’re drinking in hotel rooms and slamming doors and yelling at your uncle.”

Lena winced.

“But I will always love you—even in those moments. I love you no matter what,” I said. “All of you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” she said.

“Though, we will have to revise those sex ed lessons,” I told her. “Do you know what a dental dam is?”

“Mo-om,” Lena groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Gross.”

I smiled and missed Spencer terribly.

Chapter 41

Then

The course catalog was open on the table, two heads bent over it.

“What do you think?” Spencer asked. “The Basics of Evolution or Introduction to Ecology?”

Lena, who was standing on a chair next to him, peered seriously at the pages and pages of tiny words in front of her. Then, she pointed.

“Of course,” Spencer said. “The Origin and History of Life on Earth. Good call.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re letting a five-year-old choose your college schedule,” I said.

I was making brownies for an upcoming bake sale, and the house smelled of chocolate and butter.

“She’s almost six, and so far she hasn’t steered me wrong,” he said.

“More!” Lena declared, watching me add chocolate chips.

“She is very opinionated,” I said. And added more chocolate chips.

“More!” she said.

“How many classes are you going to try to take this semester?” I asked.

“Three, I think,” he said. “Maybe four.”

“Four?” I raised my eyebrows at him. “I thought that was too much last time?”

The money that Gabe had given Spencer—which we dubbed Spencer’s Super Special Scholarship of Serious Schooling—had been a lifesaver. I’d never know how long Spencer would have been willing to keep working at the hardware store, or how long he would have denied his depression, but I didn’t have to.

He was happy. Happier than I’d seen him in years.

Even when he took on too much schoolwork and had to stay up late studying for back-to-back tests, even when he told me that sometimes he felt like an old man next to his fellow students, even when he failed his very first class—Intro to Physics—his good mood didn’t budge.

“Guess I’m rusty,” he’d said when his report card had arrived. “I’ll just have to take it again.”