“Hey,” Lexi said.
They turned at the same time, wearing identical expressions.
“I wish I were stronger,” Mia said.
“You’re stronger than you think,” Lexi said, moving into the room. Zach reached out for her but she sidestepped him. “But that’s not what this is about.”
Mia started to cry. “I’ve dreamed of USC for so long.”
“You could go by yourself,” Zach said, and Lexi loved him for saying it, but she heard the crack in his voice, saw the regret already filling his gaze.
“I’d kill to go to USC,” Lexi said quietly. “I’d give anything.” She swallowed, looked from one face to the next, struck by how alike they were, mirror images. “You guys can’t give up everything just because I don’t have it. I won’t let you.”
She could see how hurt Zach was by her words, and how relieved. She drew in a shaky breath. Yes, he loved her. But he loved his sister, too, and he wanted to make his parents proud, and to secure his future. All of that, he could do at USC. Lexi forced a smile. “Enough of this. You two are going to USC. I’ll be rocking SCC. We’ll see each other every vacation.”
“We have a whole month at Christmas,” Mia said. At another time she might have smiled, but now she looked as broken as Lexi felt. Was this adulthood, this pruning of dreams to be practical?
“We’ll miss you,” Mia said. Zach just stood there, looking pissed and relieved and a little desperate. Cornered.
“It won’t change anything,” Lexi said, and they all knew it was a lie.
The decision had been made. There was nothing more to say.
Ten
For the next few days, Jude felt a little unsteady, adrift. A bullet had been dodged, there was no doubt about that. Lexi had somehow convinced Zach to follow through on the plans that had been made. It should have been a more than satisfactory conclusion, and it was, but like all compromises, something had been lost by everyone. There was a fissure in this house now, a resentment that was new. Jude couldn’t remember when Zach had been so angry at her. Zach, her pliable, lovable boy, had become a surly, angry teenager who slouched in his chair and mumbled his sentences. He was pissed at his sister and his mother—and maybe at Lexi, who knew?—and he wanted everyone to know it.
Jude had tried to give him space. In the days since the blowup, she’d walked carefully around him, treated him with exaggerated care, but the price to her was high. She simply couldn’t stand being on the outs with her children. Last night, she’d hardly slept at all for worrying about it. Instead she’d lain in bed, staring up at the ceiling, envisioning one conversation after another. In her imaginings, she and Zach always ended up laughing about their differences … and he rededicated himself to USC and his sister. Sometimes he even finished with, I know how young we are, Madre, don’t worry so much, it’s cool, thanks …
Now, she stood at her bedroom window, staring out at her backyard as evening fell across the water.
Tonight was the last big high school party of the year—the grad barbeque. Truth be told, she didn’t want to let them go. There was so much unresolved between them, so many things to discuss, but she knew nothing would be solved tonight. And if she denied them this party, they’d never speak to her again. But tomorrow. Tomorrow they were going to work through all this drama and get back on track. This was their last year together; she’d be damned if they’d spend it like strangers.
“Mom?” Mia said, knocking at her bedroom door and opening it wide. “Can I talk to you?”
That was fast becoming a dangerous sentence. Jude turned, forced a smile. “Of course, honey.”
Mia looked beautiful in the bright late-afternoon light. She was dressed for the party in a pair of ragged, cutoff jeans with carefully placed holes, a tight white T-shirt, and a vintage men’s paisley vest that hung off her slim shoulders. Her hair had been drawn back from her face in a loose ponytail; several red metallic baby barrettes held the tiny wisps out of her eyes. “You look sad.”
“I’m fine.”
Mia came up beside Jude, put an arm around her waist, and leaned against her. Side by side, supported by each other, they stared out the window. “He loves her, Mom.”
“What does that—”
Mia turned, tilted her face up. “He loves her.”
Jude fell silent. For the first time, the words actually resonated. Love. All this time she’d minimized it, trimmed its sails because of their age. She’d told herself they were too young to understand their own lives. But it was true, their love; it might not last, but it was real.