Next to her, Yellow barked and ran to meet Laurel, who was skipping down the hill. Skipping! No more hunched shoulders—she was back to her old self. It had all been a phase, something to get through, like when three-year-old Hank had refused to wear pants.
Annie decided that Rachel Meeker was probably doing just fine now. She might have caught Rachel at a bad time, or maybe she was rough around the edges. Either way, the woman on the phone didn’t seem too far a stretch from the awkward girl behind the bar fifteen years before.
People were who they were, after all.
But that vision board! That silly Proustian vision board had transported Annie back to her early twenties.
Years ago, Annie would have made one just like it. Not the sports part: what resonated with her was the naked dissatisfaction. Happy people didn’t make things like that.
Given a stack of magazines and some glue, what would Laurel create?
Deb and Priya spoke about their youth as a golden time of selfishness and possibility. If Annie tried to commiserate, they’d wag their heads. Talk to us after you turn forty.
But looking at Rachel’s dang vision board had confirmed what Annie had momentarily forgotten: youth sucked.
You were powerless. And maybe, yes, you had options ahead of you, especially if you grew up in a place like Cottonwood, but they overwhelmed. So many possible futures, and no idea how to use your brain or body to get there. Fuckups were unavoidable.
Annie should have recognized what everyone had been trying to tell her: Laurel’s behavior at Fall Fest had not been about alcoholism or DNA time bombs, but about youth and all of its frustrated want.
It had been an epic parenting fail, how Annie had rushed in all scorched-earth, assumed it was about her and her own demons. Luckily, Laurel seemed to have largely worked things out for herself in the simplest of ways: a new friend, a new hobby.
“I’m coming from up there because Haley’s mom dropped me at Sierra’s,” Laurel said quickly as she plopped down on the step next to Annie. “And before graduation, I’m going for a long run. I’ve been slacking on my training.”
Annie chose not to point out that Laurel’s training schedule was entirely self-imposed. “Did you hear it’s supposed to snow?”
“Yes, and fear not, Mrs. Meeker is prepared. They’re putting a giant tent in her yard.” Laurel tugged at her shoelace. “Thank you for keeping it just us tomorrow.”
“There’ll be a couple of hundred people at Lena’s.”
“I meant the graduation lunch. I really didn’t want any big soppy Perley family thing.”
“I get it.”
Haley was excellent with hairstyling, so it must have been she who created the elaborate braid in Laurel’s hair, heads of dandelions woven through. Absentmindedly, Annie reached out and patted it. That Laurel didn’t even flinch felt like a gift.
Laurel checked her watch. “Don’t you have book club tonight?”
“This is the only time the window guy can come and Dad is working so he can be free tomorrow.”
Laurel glanced back, at the cardboard.
“People have been so supportive,” Annie said. “Abe’s mom stopped by this morning with coffee. Did you guys have a fight?”
“I wouldn’t call it a fight.”
“I told his mom they should still come to the party.”
Laurel sighed. “I wish you hadn’t done that. He’s just … it’s always all about him, you know?”
“Interpersonal relationships don’t come naturally to people like him.”
“What do you mean?”
“His autism.”
“No.” Laurel scrunched up her face. “He’s got something different. He gets violent.”
There was a tight coil in Annie’s chest. “What do you mean, violent?”
“I don’t know. He lashes out. What’s the word for someone who doesn’t care about other people’s feelings? You know, the kid that probably tortures kittens for fun?”
Annie blinked. “A sociopath?”
“Some other thing. A disorder. Colin told me once after Abe had a big meltdown.”
“Has he ever hurt you?”
Laurel shrugged. “He’s yelled a few times, and thrown things. He’s big into punishments. When people wrong him.”
“That’s not okay,” Annie said. The casual way Laurel said it made Annie’s stomach turn. “That’s abusive behavior, Laurel. You shouldn’t be anywhere near that.” She turned around to look at the jagged glass that remained in the window frame. “Did he do that?”