I don’t want things to be awkward between us just because we don’t agree. And I have to be able to sort through what I’m feeling without you judging me. So maybe stop being so stuck on this November thing, okay? Let me move on from it.”
“Is it my fault? Did you learn this from me?” Mom asks quietly.
“I don’t know,” I admit, because it’s the truth. “Maybe. Or maybe we’re just wired the same.” I gnaw at my words like they’re toffee—hard to get through. “You and Dad never believed in talking to anyone. You know, like a therapist or whatever. You always acted like my being depressed was something I could fix with sunshine and water and exercise. And I think maybe November got so bad because I didn’t feel like anybody believed me. I didn’t feel supported. I’m not blaming you or Dad, but I’m saying it’s sometimes easier to get through the dark moments when someone is there to tell you it’s okay, and that there are options, and that everything is going to get better.”
“Is that what you want? To talk to a therapist?” Mom asks.
“No,” I say. “Because I don’t feel like that’s what would help me right now. I know it doesn’t always look like it to you, but I’m more in control than you think I am. Maybe not of the feelings, but of how to deal with them.”
“So when you hurt people, that’s you in control? That’s you making decisions on purpose?” Mom’s words twist like a blade in my chest.
My heart starts to pound. “No,” I snap, “it’s not on purpose. And I’m not the only one who hurts people.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snaps back, because we’re too alike.
“You don’t think Dad was hurt by the things you said? All those days he spent trying to cheer you up, and talk you into coming out of your room? I’m sure that hurt him, too.” I can feel the fight building up in my chest, and I can’t stop it. I feel cornered, and when I’m cornered, I… react. “Maybe that’s why he’s a ghost—because he couldn’t deal with someone who didn’t want to get help.”
Silence.
I swallow the hard lump in my throat, regretting my words immediately.
Hurt people hurt people, right?
But maybe being hurt doesn’t make hurting okay. Maybe it’s a reason, but it’s not an excuse.
“That was mean, Harley.” Mom’s trying her best to keep her voice even. “I didn’t deserve that.”
“I’m sorry,” I say thinly, trying hard not to let her hear how sorry I really am. Maybe it’s stubbornness, or maybe I’ve been trying so hard to convince her she’s mostly wrong that I don’t know how to let her be even a little bit right. “Look, tomorrow is a really big day for me. Talking about all of this is just going to throw me off. So… can we put this on hold?”
“Fine,” Mom says.
“Okay,” I say.
I know I should tell her I’m being too hard on her, and that I didn’t mean to be cruel. I should tell her that hurting someone else is never okay, no matter what we’re feeling. I should tell her she’s not someone anyone should have to “deal with,” just like I’m not either. Because we’re both people, and people can be messy, but the most important thing is that we’re trying our best to be better than our last mistakes.
But I don’t know how to say the words. I don’t know how to give her a little bit without feeling like I’m giving her everything.
Having big discussions with Mom is a balancing act I still don’t understand.
After we hang up, I stand outside for a while with my arms wrapped around myself. The happiness I’ve felt recently is splintering. My hands feel clammy, and I squeeze them against my rib cage just to feel like I’m stable. Like I’m not going to break apart.
And then I take a deep breath, remember how important tomorrow is, and leave my worries in the bushes with the dying katydids.
I have too much work to do.
The dark clouds will have to wait.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Please stop pacing. You’re making me nervous,” Vas says, drumming his fingers along the center ring wall.
“I can’t help it.” I hold up my hands. “Look, I don’t even have any fingernails left.”
My eyes dart back to the main curtain, knowing any second Simon is going to walk through it and I’ll have to perform the best I’ve ever performed.