to cool it. “I wouldn’t want to miss seeing him walk across the stage. He’s been such a good friend to you.”
Joining her at the table, I dig in to my cereal while she sips from her cup. But I can’t eat. “I didn’t mean it yesterday when I said I hated you, Mom. I’m sorry.”
“I know you didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, too.” She smiles. “Let’s just forget all of that and talk about something else, okay?”
Swallowing a knot of regret, I pick up my spoon again.
Mom surprises me by saying, “We need to start thinking about getting you ready for college soon.”
I shrug. “There’s not much to do since I’m just going to Silver Lake Community.”
“Have you ever thought about going away to school?” she asks, then purses her lips.
Surprised she’d even mention the idea, I say, “Yes, all the time. But now that Dad’s gone, I thought I should stay close to home.”
“If you want to go away in the fall, I think you should. I remember you mentioned O.U. once.”
My surprise turns to shock. “I applied.” I pause, then say, “I got an acceptance letter.”
She draws back. “Really? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know. I thought you’d be against it.”
Mom’s quiet for a moment, then says, “After all that’s happened, I think it might be good for you to get away.”
Encouraged by her mind change, I say, “I’m sort of having second thoughts about O.U., though. That’s where Wyatt’s going, and Dad said it might be good for us to do our own thing.” I don’t mention that I’m also worried about what’s been going on between us. Everything’s happening too fast.
Mom sends me a small smile. “I don’t think having a friend you already know at school is a bad thing, Lily. I like the idea of you and Wyatt being at the same place. We should make a trip to Oklahoma to visit the campus. It’s important that you blend in with the other students like an ordinary girl.”
She flinches, like she’s trying to jerk the words back in the minute they’re out of her mouth.
An ordinary girl? I push my cereal bowl back and meet her wary gaze. “What do you mean? Are you talking about how I communicate with Iris? How I can play the violin like she did? What’s wrong with me, Mom?”
With a nervous laugh, she says, “Don’t be silly. Nothing’s wrong with you. Of course you aren’t ordinary, you’re extraordinary. What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t think so?”
Knowing she’s hedging again, I look past her to the window. Outside, Cookie’s sitting in a ray of sunshine. He’s still not up to chasing squirrels, but he’s better. Happier. “Look, Mom,” I say, pointing at him.
“Thank goodness the medicine’s finally helping,” she says.
“I think it’s more than that. He heard me play the violin, and he changed. It’s like his depression lifted.”
Mom rubs the swollen knuckles of her right hand and blinks at me. “You don’t really believe that, Lily. It’s only music. And he’s a dog.” She offers me another smile, but it looks forced. “That’s a sweet thing to imagine, but you know it’s nonsense.”
“It isn’t nonsense. You said Iris helped you. How, Mom? With her music? Did it help you the same way it helped Cookie?”
Her lip quivers. “Why are you forcing this?”
I lean toward her. “Because I love you, and I think I can help you, too. I mean, I know the music won’t heal you or anything like that. But if it could just bring you some happiness again . . . some peace of mind.” My throat closes, and I finish in a whisper, “Even if it’s only for a little while.”
“Oh, honey . . .” Mom reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you worry about me so much.” She presses her lips together and looks away. After a long silence, she says in a soft voice, “Your sister gave so much of her energy to others, so much of herself, and I would never ask you to do the same.”
The legs of Mom’s chair scrape against the floor as she stands up. She turns her back to me and peers out the window, hugging herself.
I watch her for a long time before I head to the workshop for the violin. Carrying it to the deck, I sit at the patio table. Sunshine warms my face as I lift the instrument and bow and begin to play.