I shake out my arms trying to expel some of the nervous energy that keeps coiling inside me then curl my hand around the necklace Amelia made me so long ago, the one that turned my old medallion into something completely different but no less beautiful. I haven’t worn it in forever, but I need it for today.
“How much longer?” Amelia asks. She’s been hovering by the door for a while now, knowing she has to leave me alone for this but not quite able to do it yet.
“Any minute now.” I squeeze the pendant hard. “It’s just time, right?”
She nods. “You have my car keys?”
“I have car keys, shop keys, and I’ve locked up dozens of times before. I’m good.”
But I’m not really good and she knows that. My mom is on her way here. Because I asked her to come. Except it wasn’t so much an invitation as a demand. She has no idea why but she agreed and there’s no backing out now for either of us. My heart flutters, a panic trapped beating against my ribs as Ethan’s words pass through my mind. If your mom can’t say it, don’t spend your whole life trying to make her give you what she can’t. Don’t be like me, okay? She won’t ever say anything on her own, I know that, but I can’t stay silent anymore.
“I’m real proud of you. And we’re here for you whatever happens. Mathias said we’ll ruthlessly exploit you as a live-in babysitter if you decide to move into the guest house, but we’ll knock off a bit of rent too, so it’ll be an almost fair trade.”
“If it comes to that.”
She waves a hand dismissively. “Which it probably won’t.”
“’Cause this whole conversation will go perfectly and years’ worth of pain and damage will all go away in an instant?”
“Exactly.” Then she presses her fingers to her lips. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Try not to break anything important if you crash,” she says when Mathias honks from the driveway. “And you’re picking me up at 7:30 a.m. sharp tomorrow or you will be all kinds of fired.”
I blow out a breath when at last I’m alone in the shop.
And then I wait.
I’m about to start working on the ring again, anything to keep my focus off what I’ve set in motion, but then there’s a knock on the door, soft but steady.
I hurry over to pull it open and Mom sweeps in, eyes scanning over me like she’s expecting to see something other than what she finds: me with my hair pulled back and my work apron and gloves on, maybe a smudge on my cheek.
And then she does something.
It’s subtle, but I see it.
She exhales.
She’s nervous too, maybe even more than I am.
I’m not ready for words yet though, so I stare at my workbench, at the wires still soaking in pickling solution waiting for me, and pull them out to wipe them clean, the strong, vinegary sent burning my nose. I shape the metal wire in the ring bender and then use some nonmarring pliers to finish the shape.
She steps closer, watching me work. “What is that you’re making?”
“It’s going to be a ring.” Her ring, I hope. I reach for another wire to bend.
“Oh? But it’s got an opening?”
“For now.” I reach for my flex and brush a little where the ends bend together, give it a quick blast with my little torch, touch a tiny piece of hard solder to the joint with a pair of tweezers, and another shot of heat and it’s ready to go back in the pickling liquid. I keep going, unable to reconcile the way my chest swells with warmth and aches with cold as she watches me finish.
“It looks like my mother’s pendant,” she says, oblivious. “I had no idea you could do all this.”
The cold inside me crystallizes at her words. This place and these skills brought me back from an edge she hadn’t even known I was teetering on. I continue to work on the ring, moving easily around the shop. “Amelia’s a good teacher. And it’s easy to learn something you love.”
She blinks at me then. “Love?”
Warm and cold. They collide and a tornado of emotions coil inside. I let out a breath as steadily as I can, and glance down at the now-finished ring before holding it out to her. “I think I’m technically supposed to give this to John or his best man. I don’t really know.”
She takes the ring from me, frowning.
“He asked me to make your wedding band, so I did.” If she hears the way my voice tightens with those last words, she doesn’t show it. I don’t tell her I told him no at first or that even now I’m sure she’s wishing he’d asked anyone else. I watch her turn the glinting metal around in her fingertips. “I designed it after Grandmother’s pendant and the pearl ring from—”
“My aunt Marilyn,” she finishes for me. “Yes, I can see that.”
That’s all she says though. I can’t tell if she hates it or if she’s angry. I can’t tell anything and the longer she stays silent the more my insides spin, gathering up old words and slights, pulling them all together until my skin is all that keeps the cyclone from lashing out.
With jerky movements, I reach into my left pocket and pull out a folded piece of paper, extending it to her, as well. “And that’s my acceptance letter to Cal State Northridge.”
She glances from the ring to the paper, so calm when I am a storm. “I don’t understand.”
I have to fight an impulse to snatch both the ring and the paper from my mom. To take it all back and smooth it all over, to not cause trouble even when it means that I’m the one who suffers. I don’t want that anymore. I don’t want it for her either, but if she wants me gone then I’ll go. Just not to California.
“I don’t want to go away to college. I want to stay here, continue working with Amelia and maybe one day have my own shop. I love it and I’m good at it and even if I wasn’t in this wheelchair it’s what I would pick for my future.”
My mom’s perfectly groomed brows draw together. “But Cal State is all we’ve talked about since—”
“The accident?” I feel lightning flash behind my eyes. “No, it’s all you’ve talked about. I was crying myself to sleep every night knowing I was never going to walk again and my own mother could barely stand to look at me because I’m the reason Dad died.”
The letter shakes in her hand. “I have never said that.”
But she had. In every averted glance, every late night, every college brochure, every shut-down conversation. She’d said it again and again, so loudly it echoed through the entire house. “It’s true, isn’t it? You blame me.” A single tear falls, then another. “If I hadn’t been so stupid and selfish, he’d still be here?”
Mom takes a step toward me, but I hold up my hands to stop her. “Don’t.” If she tries to touch me now, I’ll be more than the hurt lashing around inside me, I’ll rip apart. “I just—” I wipe my face dry “—I just need to know if you can accept me staying here. Amelia and Mathias have a room for me if you can’t, but I’m not going to go to Cal State.” I drop my gaze to the letter half crumpled in her hand. “I don’t want to keep hurting you if that’s what me being here is doing, but I’m not going to give up everything I want either. I don’t think I should have to do that.” Her eyes are swimming when she glances down between her two hands, the ring and the acceptance letter, between the choices I’ve given her.
“You don’t have to say anything right now. You can let me know your decision before the wedding.”
She stays silent as she follows me outside so I can lock up. When she tells me she’ll see me at home, it feels like maybe the last words we’ll ever say to each other.