easiest exit because I was upset and things had been so bad between us. If I’d had more support from the start, maybe I wouldn’t have taken rejection so hard.”
“So it’s our fault now?” Mom gapes.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s nobody’s fault,” I say, trying to steady my voice. “I’m just saying there were other factors involved. And yeah, maybe I’ll quit a troupe again, but that doesn’t mean I have to quit on my dreams. I can still be an aerialist. I can still find a job somewhere else.”
“But what if you don’t?” Mom asks, and I wish she would put the knife down because she looks terrifying right now.
“Then I don’t,” I say simply. “But at least I tried. I don’t want to stop trying. Not ever. Not when it comes to the circus.”
Dad rests his hand on Mom’s shoulder. “I know you were always set on her going to school, but maybe we can be flexible. Maybe our dreams for our daughter can be flexible.”
She looks up at him with tears in her eyes. “Why are you saying that? Why are you making it sound like it was my fault? You wanted her to go to school too.”
“She’ll still be going to school—just in a different way than we wanted.” He eyes the cutting board. “Honey, could you maybe put the knife down when we’re talking?”
She drops it on the counter and holds her hands up. “What, now you think I’m going to stab someone too?”
Dad starts to laugh, but she cuts him a look that makes him chomp down on his lip.
Popo’s voice breaks through the arguing like a crane soaring over rough water. “I don’t think Harley is asking for permission—she’s asking for your support.”
Mom looks at her and drops her arms. I think the two of them share unspoken words before she finally opens her mouth. “Why did you give her that photograph?”
“Delilah—” Dad starts.
Mom holds up a hand, still staring at Popo. “No. I haven’t asked because I didn’t want to fight, but I want to know. Why would you show her that? Knowing everything that happened? Are you trying to hurt me? Punish me? What is it, Ma?”
Popo removes her glasses and sets them on the table. “I shouldn’t have kept you from the circus. I know that now.”
“I’m not talking about the circus,” Mom snaps, and Popo’s face rumples. “I’m talking about Harley almost dying. Isn’t that what you told me? That she almost died? That I almost murdered my own daughter?”
Popo stands, shakier than usual. “I’m sorry for what I said. It was wrong of me. And that’s why I’m trying to show you I learned from my mistakes—so you don’t make the same ones.”
Mom crosses her arms, shaking her head angrily. “You have no right to interfere. You had your turn raising a daughter. This is my turn, and I’m doing it the way I think is best.”
Popo looks ashen. She’s probably never heard Mom speak to her like this before.
Dad tries to take Mom’s hand, but she swats him away. She’s a volcano that’s already erupted. I don’t think any of us can calm her down until she’s finished letting out the fire.
She’s yelling about all the things Popo did wrong, and all the things she’s trying to do right, and some of it is so personal and raw, I feel like I’m eavesdropping on a conversation I shouldn’t be.
But the more I watch Popo, the more Mom’s voice starts to fade in the background.
Popo looks… confused.
Scared.
And like she isn’t listening to Mom either.
“Popo?” I ask quietly. “Are you okay?”
It happens fast.
Popo makes a noise that sounds like a grunt. She grabs her left arm. Her entire face crumples in pain.
And then her frail body falls to the floor.
I’ve never heard a person sound so truly afraid until the moment Mom screams for her mother.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
We follow the ambulance to the hospital, Dad driving because Mom is choking on her tears, asking, “What have I done?” over and over again.
It feels like we’re in the waiting room for hours. Maybe we are. Dad refuses to leave Mom’s side, so I make a couple coffee runs, trying to be helpful.
Mom won’t drink anything. She won’t look at me either, and I’m terrified for Popo, but also terrified this all happened because of me.
Why did I have to bring up the circus and school? Why did I have to make everything worse?