Mom watching me from the doorway. When she realized she’d been caught, she gave me a small wave and stepped cautiously into the room.
“Mind if I sit down?” she asked over the sound of the machine.
I gave a noncommittal shrug. Honestly, I was too hurt by Ray’s rejection to care about much else at the moment. Bring it on, Mom and Dad. They couldn’t hurt me more than I already was.
She dragged an ottoman over and sat in front of me, her elbows on her knees. For a few long minutes, she worried her hands, and the only sound was the hum of my breathing treatment machine. I was about to ask her what she wanted when she looked up at me and spoke. “I don’t know what happened at that young man’s house, but I can see that you’re hurting.”
Her pale eyes saw too much, and I looked down. The movement of my eyelids sent a tear sliding down my lashes. It got trapped between my cheek and my mask, spreading salty liquid between the seal.
“And I can see that your father and I haven’t made it any better.”
That caught my attention. I looked up at her quizzically, not caring if she saw my tears or my puffy eyes. My parents? Admit fault?
“Cori talked to your father and me last night about what happened, and after some discussion, Dad and I decided to lift your grounding.”
My eyebrows drew together. What was I hearing?
“We’d still prefer for you to stay home in the fall, but if you’d like to live in the dorms...” She took a deep breath. “We’re okay with it.”
Finally, I’d had enough. I took off my mask, silenced the machine and asked my question. “What’s with the one-eighty, Mom? I feel like I have whiplash. I can live at the dorms, I can’t. I can date, I can’t. What’s the deal?”
She rubbed her temples where the hair was starting to become white. “We’re scared, Ginger. Do you remember when you were sick for the first time?”
I nodded. “I spent the whole summer inside.”
“It was the safest we’ve ever felt. Like we could protect you from triggers in the outside world and watch you develop into a young lady. That was, until you started having your dark days.”
“Dark days?”
She nodded. “After a couple of weeks, you just seemed...checked out. You stopped talking at dinner. You didn’t want to play with your sisters. You stopped staying up to watch movies with us. It was scary.”
I remembered feeling worse than sad—numb—like I was fumbling through the dark with no hopes of walking into the light.
“Last night, we saw dark Ginger and light Ginger, and it scared the hell out of us.” She reached out and gripped my hand. “You were so you, and then you weren’t. No matter what, we want to see you show the world the bright, spunky young lady you are. Not the defeated girl I heard cry herself to sleep last night. Thinking we had something to do with that...” Her voice got tight, and she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stem the flow of tears. “We just want you to be happy.”
Each word she said brought me one step closer to falling apart, and the last word did it. Tears streamed down my face, and I collapsed into her arms. I realized she’d given me everything I’d been hoping for, but my heart was still broken, and that was the scariest thing of all.
Fifty-Seven
On the drive to school with Cori, I looked over at her and said, “Thank you.”
“For what?” she asked, glancing up from her phone.
I narrowed my eyes at her innocent act. “I know you talked to Mom and Dad last night. You actually got them to do something I haven’t been able to.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Listen,” I said. “You have a gift for words.”
Her cheeks reddened. “Yeah, well, I was tired of riding to school in the minivan.”
“Same here.” I put a hand on her leg. “But really, thank you.”
She offered me a genuine smile. “Anytime, sis.”
We pulled into the school parking lot, and I couldn’t help but notice Ray’s pickup sitting in its regular spot. Just the sight of it sent a physical pain through my body, and I had to take deep breaths to stay calm, even with his words on the phone echoing through my mind.
I slowly parked in the spot and got out. As usual, Cori began her quick walk to the school, but I