Chasing the Moon

chapter two.

Mom likes to treat me like I'm going to break at any moment.

She was like that even before Lia: we live half an hour from the seaside, and when I was four, I still had to argue for her to even let me wade in a local swimming pool because she was so deathly afraid that I'd just sink underwater and disappear. I could sympathize with that much -- I was a short, scrawny kid. It was a real risk. She was kind of right, even if she went too far.

This time, though, the worst has already happened. Lia's gone. There's nothing left to protect me from and we're still doing this dance.

"Sweetie?" she says, voice soft. I wonder if I can get away with pretending not to hear her. "Ana, honey," she continues, a little louder, and I turn around and throw her a picture-day smile like she won't be able to see right through it.

"Decided not to stay out that late," I say brightly before she can ask any questions. "I'm gonna head to my room for tonight; I have some studying to catch up on."

"It's only your first day."

"AP classes, Mom." I tie my hair up just to have something to do with my hands. "They don't care if it's my first day."

"Sweetie," she says again, in that tone that usually comes right before a big gross feelings talk, but instead, she just adds, "you know if you wanna talk -- "

"You're always here," I finish. "I know." I don't say a therapist would probably be a better fit, mostly because I haven't seen Mom cry since the funeral and it's not her fault we can't afford one. "I'm -- " My phone buzzes, and I frown down at it.

From: Joey
why'd james lancaster of all people tell me you left early

From: Joey
i didn't even know he knew my name

From: Joey
...you okay? want me to come over?

Mom's hovering awkwardly by the kitchen table. I take a seat, smiling at her and wondering when conversations became this weird between us -- when she stopped teasing me about being attached to the hip with that phone, when she started speaking in supportive phrases she found off the internet or nothing at all.

(I know when. July twenty-fourth, as soon as I got back from the hospital.)

"It's just Joey," I say, waving a hand, and she nods.

To: Joey
Yeah just needed some time away

To: Joey
You don't have to come 

To: Joey
Have fun. Meet a cute guy. Have a high school party love story

Joey texts back almost immediately.

From: Joey
no cute guys here. be there in five

"Is it all right if -- "

"Joey can come over," says Mom, half a smile on her face. "I'm going to head upstairs for the night; help yourself to the kitchen if you need it."

"Goodnight," I call after her. Love you, I want to add, but for some reason the words get stuck in my throat. A lot of words are these days.

It's quiet enough when Joey arrives that his knock nearly startles me out of my seat. "Seriously," he says as soon as I open the door, "talk about a curveball. You almost went home with James Lancaster?"

I pause. "Wait, what?"

"Is that not what happened? He looked, like." Joey does this thing with his arms that's almost a shrug, but too expressive. "Not mad, but kind of disappointed. Or frustrated or something. Figured you guys almost hooked up and then you remembered you hated him or whatever."