“Sure, I am . . . it’s all just very overwhelming. There are all these social things, one after the other. There’s no break.” She didn’t remind him that her low mood, discomfort in social situations, and apathy, her old demons were there too.
“You’ve rallied in the past. Is there something else you’re not telling me?”
“Just not sure how I feel about all these changes. . . First Derek is suddenly a part of her life, then all the Prom stuff, then graduation.”
She stared at the wall in front of their bed, a vibrant oil painting of the waterfalls they visited in Jamaica hung there. A poignant thought flitted across her mind, that vacation was probably when Ella was conceived. She reached to her nightstand for a tube of hand cream and applied a dab, aggressively and repetitively rubbing the lotion into each knuckle, as if her self-esteem hung in the balance. “She’s leaving for Boston for the whole summer, and then right away she’s off to California. And that’s it! It feels like things are happening so quickly, and it’s all whizzing by.” She rubbed harder.
“There is a lot happening right now. I feel it too.” He turned to lean his back on the headboard, crossing his arms behind his head. “Derek is a good guy, he’s respectful, and he treats her well. You have to realize, this is what senior year is all about. It’s normal to celebrate with friends and make a big deal about the little things.”
Her hands became still. “And she doesn’t need me for any of it,” she said in a thin voice.
“Does she have to need you? She’s a strong and smart kid.” He looked at side of her quivering lower lip, which seemed to wind back the years. “Maybe she just needs to know you’re here, with her.”
Anneliese’s shoulders slumped as she wrestled with the truth of James’ words. Ella didn’t need her, because she had been learning all along how to fend for herself after years of her mother not being there for her. Her mother had dropped the ball on birthday parties, volunteering for school trips, surprise lunches, fun sleepovers, concert tickets- her mother, who struggled on and off with depression, so many ways she hadn’t shown up. She sank under the covers, defeated.
“I’m no good at that,” she whispered.
James said gently, “You can still change that. Remember how she loved when you both volunteered at the pet shelter, or last year when you visited Mei-Jun on campus . . .” He turned off the bedside lamp, adjusted his pillow, and shifted to lie on his back. “C’mon, let’s get some sleep.” His breathing became even within a few breaths. She lay listening to James’ breathing that night, hanging on each rhythmic exhalation, trying to settle the churning.
The following day, she returned from an uninspiring day at work to an empty house. James was probably bowling, but she didn’t know where Ella was tonight. The sunny May afternoon beckoned her to sit under the striped awning on the back deck, with The Sense of an Ending in her lap. The golden forsythia drooped but the coral and crimson azaleas were in full bloom where she gazed in neighbor’s well-tended back yard. Her mind swirled around different times and places, as she brooded over what had happened during the last weeks, and how she had been letting Ella and James down over the years.
