first time. She looked up at him, and the evening light streaked across her face, burnishing it with deep gold. She wasn’t so homely, he thought, remembering the stupid scores he and his friends kept on the chalkboard in the locker room. Becky Pilchuk always came in dead last. Now he knew that was because no one ever really saw her. You just had to look past the dopey clothes and eyeglasses.
She sat down next to him and stared straight ahead. “I know you think I’m a dork, but there are some things I understand better than anyone else.”
“I don’t think—” He stopped. Why lie to this girl? She’d never done anything to him but try to be his friend, and he just went along with disliking her because everyone else seemed to. “All right, maybe I used to think you were a dork. I bet you used to think I was a—I don’t know. A tool or a poser.”
“Or a dumb jock.”
“Yeah, maybe that. Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t bother getting to know you and I should have.”
She glanced over at him, the sunlight slipping through her hair, making it shine. “It’s not too late,” she said.
“Tell me about your mom.”
She folded her hands very carefully in her lap. “It wasn’t a shock or anything, like yours was. She was sick for about a year when I was in middle school. She’s just as gone, though, and sometimes I miss her so much my whole body aches. And the worst thing is, I can’t make it go away. I loved my mom so much, even when I was in seventh grade and being rotten to her. I loved her like—I don’t know, in a way I can barely describe, you know?”
He nodded. He did know. Every night he lay awake and prayed his parents knew that, too. “There’s something else,” he said, tentative but yearning to get this out. “The very last thing I ever said to my father is ‘screw you.’” There. It was out. He hadn’t even told this to Dr. Sachs.
“Bummer,” she said.
“Bummer? I tell you something like that and all you say is ‘bummer’?”
“Everybody says ‘screw you’ to their parents. It’s not like you invented the phrase. I was horrible to my mom sometimes, even when I understood how sick she was. But I never stopped loving her and she knew that, same as your dad.”
Did he? Cameron wondered. He conjured up a picture of his dad and himself, and surprisingly, in every memory, the two of them were happy.
“And now that she’s gone,” Becky said, “where does all that love go? Where do I put it? Who do I love like I loved my mom? It’s still in me like it was when she was alive, but now it doesn’t have anywhere to go.” She took off her glasses and looked at him. “This isn’t very helpful, is it?”
“Actually, it makes more sense than anything else people have said to me.”
chapter 32
“Five more minutes,” Sean begged. “Just give me five more minutes.”
“No.” Standing next to the bed, Ashley peered at him over the edge of the mattress. “Up.”
“Who let you out of your crib, anyway?”
“Up.”
Next to him, Maura sighed and stretched, but didn’t fully awaken. Sean glanced at the clock—7:00 a.m. A school day. “All right,” he grumbled. “I’m up.” He wore pajama bottoms but no shirt. Having little kids around had quickly cured him of his habit of sleeping in the buff. “I bet you’re soaking wet, aren’t you?”
She smiled coyly.
He glanced back at Maura. She might be faking sleep. Diaper changing was not her favorite chore. “All right, you.” He picked her up and carried her away to change her. It was like this every morning. The baby first. It didn’t matter if he needed to take a piss or wanted to brush his teeth. Only afterward, when she was watching cartoons and eating dry Cheerios under Charlie’s desultory supervision, could Sean see to his own needs. He took the stairs two at a time, in a hurry to duck into the bathroom and then maybe get lucky with Maura. As he was brushing his teeth, he heard a burst of crying. Down the stairs again, two at a time. He could distinguish between Ashley’s cranky cry and her pain cry. This was a pain cry. He found them both in the kitchen.
“What happened?” he asked Charlie as he scooped Ashley up.
“She fell. She tried to climb up on the counter for