Rachel held the phone up a bit higher, hoping to obscure whatever anxiety Faith could spot. “I’m fine,” she said. “How’s the thesis coming?”
Faith launched into a rambling story about reaching out to her favorite food historian in hopes of finding a new mentor, and how her research into Black American foodways had her exploring the idea of a PhD in agriculture after graduation. “Professor Fine is fine,” she said. “And I’m not being mean, so don’t start. It’s a joke. He’s nice, but I’d really like a Black woman to help guide me since I’m exploring motherhood and the generational inheritance of Black food traditions. And maybe homemade conditioner? I know that’s random, but you’d be surprised at the overlap.”
“I get it. Homemade conditioners are basically recipes, when you think about it.”
“Exactly!” Faith beamed. “I knew you’d understand.”
“Well, I pay attention,” Rachel said. She almost added how proud she was of the work her daughter was doing, but thinking about it always made her too emotional. It was hard to put into words how good it felt to watch her little girl doggedly pursue her dreams.
“I think if you explain your reasoning to Professor Fine, he’ll be—” They locked eyes, and burst into identical giggles. “It’ll be okay,” Rachel said finally. “You’ll make the right choice. You always do.”
Faith cradled her chin in one hand. “Thank you.”
Rachel would give anything to hear someone say the same thing back to her. That person was usually Faith, putting a positive spin on difficult situations. On Rachel’s wedding day, Faith had taken her hand and said, “We’re happy, Mommy,” with the gravitas of a Baptist preacher. This is joy, her eight-year-old daughter was saying. It’s okay to feel this.
“Anyway,” Faith, said, sitting up straighter. “Enough about me. What’s happening back home?”
“Here? Nothing. Same old boring stuff. Dinner. Paint swatches. Nothing exciting.”
“Paint swatches? Really?” Faith was teasing, but Rachel knew that the boring minutiae of her life was soothing and comforting for her daughter. Faith ate the same breakfast every day. She’d painted her childhood bedroom once, when she was nine, and kept the same pearlescent lilac until she left for school. To her, paint swatches and boring dinners was code for Mom and Matt are where I left them. The truth would be devastating. Thinking about it had caused Rachel to panic when she’d woken up in Nathan’s bed. She’d looked at his gorgeous face and thought, What if I stayed? What if this were my life instead? But then her thoughts immediately turned to Faith, and she’d left as quickly as she could gather her things.
Rachel forced her mind back to the present. The camera image tilted as Faith relocated to her bed. “You’re all dressed up,” Faith said. “Where are you guys going?”
“There’s a donor lunch at the club today. Like I said, same old stuff.”
“Oh, no wonder you look stressed. You hate those things.”
Rachel forced another smile. “They’re more fun when you’re here.”
“Yes, they are!” Matt appeared behind Rachel and waved at Faith. “Hey, sweetheart. How’s school?”
Rachel tried not to visibly tense. They hadn’t stood this close in almost a month, not since his birthday party.
“I already bored Mom with my thesis, so I won’t make her suffer again. School is good. Nice tie.”
He touched the green and navy plaid at his neck. “Can’t remember where I got it, but someone has good taste.” Faith gave him a new tie every Christmas. It was their in-joke, a wink to the fact that it was impossible to buy gifts for someone who had everything.
They weren’t always so close. It took Rachel a year to introduce Matt to Faith. He was nervous and overcompensated with adorably awkward jokes that made Rachel fall for him even more. Two years later, the night before their wedding, she overheard him tell Faith how excited he was to be her father. “How lucky am I? Finding two loves of my life at once?”
The memory gathered sharply in Rachel’s throat like broken glass. “We should probably go,” she said, with more edge than she’d intended. It was too much, seeing their lying faces next to Faith’s on her screen. “Honey, let me know if you need anything.”
“And me,” Matt said. “Did you get the last transfer? I hope that’s enough for books this year.”