around for any trace that I existed, or that she’d had a life with my father―only to find the room filled with strangers.
“Pictures of my friends,” she explained briefly without going into any further detail. I nodded, fearing that my voice would reveal the hurt.
“So, you have school tomorrow? Ready to go back?” my mother asked as I thumbed through the CDs she had stacked in another built in nook in the corner.
“Not really,” I answered honestly, recognizing she was trying to have a conversation but I was doing a lousy job of contributing.
“When’s your next basketball game?”
“Friday,” I responded, scanning the room.
“Would you mind if I went?” She sounded nervous. The unease in her voice drew my attention.
“You can come,” I answered, finally looking at her with an awkward smile. The tension in her blue eyes slowly melted away.
“Great. Thank you.” That one answer changed everything. The next thing I knew, she was pointing to people in the pictures and talking about where they were and what was going on. She pulled out a couple of CDs insisting I listen to them because they were life altering.
I didn’t say much. I didn’t think I could have gotten a word in if I wanted to. Her nervous chatter flowed without pause, as she sat in front of the player and spread CDs across the floor. I tried to relax as I listened to her stories, inspecting the woman before me and trying to connect with her as my mother. It felt like a million years ago that I actually had one. I had no idea how to act around her, or what to say.
“So do you really like your room?” she asked after slipping a CD into the player.
“I really do,” I admitted honestly.
“I was pretty useless in designing it. I just let Anna and Sara pick out everything,” my mother confessed, her cheeks reddening.
A knock at the door interrupted her search for the song that reminded her of her trip to New Orleans last year. I watched as she answered it. She appeared puzzled. “Um, hello?"
“Hi, Mrs. Thomas. I’m Evan. I’m looking for Emma.” I jumped up from my cross-legged position on the floor and practically ran to the door.
“Hi,” I greeted in a rush before my mother could say anything. Evan peeked around the door and his signature smile crept on his face, causing my heart to stutter. I was beyond relieved to see him.
“Well, come on in, Evan." He stepped into the foyer to allow my mother to close the door. "I’m Rachel. It would completely freak me out if you called me Mrs. Thomas. Mrs. Thomas was Derek's mother, and she didn't like me very much. Besides my last name is Walace, so if anything I would be Ms. Walace, but I really would prefer Rachel.” Evan and I were stilled by the burst of information that spewed from her mouth in a single breath. Her cheeks reddened and she laughed awkwardly when she found us staring at her. "Wow. I have no idea why I just said all that. I'm not usually this nervous. Okay, yes I am." She reacted to our stunned faces and said, "I'm so sorry."
“That's okay," I assured her―all too familiar with being possessed by nervousness. "Why don’t I show Evan around?”
"Uh, sure," she agreed, returning to the living room to put away the CDs that were spread over the floor.
I didn’t bother showing Evan the downstairs, since all he had to do with was turn in a circle to see the entire layout. I took his hand and led him to my room, closing the door behind us.
“Nice room,” Evan admired, ducking under the slanted ceiling to sit on my bed. “How’s it going? She seems nice.”
“Yeah," I said hesitantly, not knowing how to answer him. "It's fine... I mean, she's great."
“You're nervous too, huh?” he acknowledged with a small laugh. "I guess I can see who you get your red cheeks from."
"Funny," I returned sarcastically. Nervous was just the tip of what I was feeling. I couldn't begin to describe the panic that slithered inside of me. Maybe when it all came down to