Mom looked at me and despite the stubborn cast to her expression, I could see the love, and I could see the keening hurt that was still there, especially on this day, of all days.
I could tell her about Christian. About trying to raise him from the dead. About my failure. About his now-peaceful rest. I could reach for the solace I so desperately wanted, and the chance to share the burden with those I loved.
This was my chance.
I don't know who moved first, but her arms were firm around me. I held on tightly.
This was my chance.
“Thanks for dinner, Mom. It was great.”
“Happy Birthday, Ren,” she said softly into my hair.
“Thanks.” Say it, say it. “Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “See you later tonight.”
I tore away, guilty words frozen, a stone heavy in my gut. Blindly making my way down the hall, I deliberately didn't look at the family photos adorning both walls.
Guilt twisted and increased my emotions into a mild panic.
I repeated the words from the stack of grief books everyone had given me. Christian was no longer here, but I had friends and family. There were many lights in my life.
Lights I could nurture.
Olivia was waiting for me in the foyer and a little of the tightness in my chest eased upon seeing her. The wards shivered as we exited the house. I stepped in front of her, but I couldn't sense anything dangerous in the shadows.
Olivia checked her little magical-detection device. “Nothing is out of place.”
I nodded and we headed to my car, parked in the street. Olivia had flat out refused to take the train.
“Even if I come home before 1:00, Liv, that's not the point, you know,” I said, as we got in. I ran my hands along the steering wheel where my brother's hands had rested just four months before. I had been happy as the eternal passenger. But that was no longer my life.
Olivia shrugged as I turned the key. “It's simple. Put together a presentation of why you should have no curfew. Tell her you will text her at midnight when you are out to let her know everything is okay. That will reassure her that you know she is worried about you. And is it any big deal to give in and let her have her comfort by going with the curfew? You can stay out until whenever you want at school. We'll be back there in a week.” Olivia's points were all delivered smoothly, but her eyes were unreadable.
I pulled away from the curb. “Your points are well taken, but it's the principle of the thing. I'm eighteen. I'm an adult now. It's like magic. The clock ticked past twelve and poof ––adult!”
“You are in the rocky period of a secure, parent-child relationship when the child is becoming an adult,” she said, her calm delivery making my words seem more juvenile.
“Ha. I knew it.” I pointed a finger at her. “Don't think I haven't seen those self-help books you have been trying to hide.”
“I see the use in personal relationships now and am filling my knowledge gap,” she said, primly.
I grinned. It was easy to shed dark thoughts when I focused on a friend—on Olivia, just as I had once done with Christian. The desire to tease her wiped away my lingering obstinacy and I nudged her after shifting into third. “You are filling the gap rather well. You will take over the world more easily with friends.”
She nodded. “Of course I am, and, of course I will.” It was said matter-of-factly, but I could hear the pleased tone, both at the compliment and the physical affection. Eight weeks ago, she would have blasted me for both.
She was right, of course. I just needed to figure out how to handle my mom. To balance the need to do my own thing with the part of me that still wanted to curl up on her lap and have her tell me that everything was going to be all right. I might have made peace with my inability to resurrect Christian, but the hole of his absence remained.
~*~
It was an hour's drive into the city and Olivia was in rare philosophical form the whole way—clarifying points
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley