Page 12 of Here In Your Arms

“Yeah, you! We saw you at the pool!” she continues, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“And this is why kids should be seen and not heard,” I say, and herd her towards a booth. “So sorry to bother you.”

His mouth pulls up in a small smile and he lifts a hand in acknowledgement. For an instant, I think I see recognition in his face, but it passes quickly, and he goes back to his coffee. A small part of me is disappointed that he doesn’t remember me, but it’s not like he should. We only saw each other in passing; there’s no way he’d remember me. Who knows if he even saw me as it is? I’m probably making the whole thing up.

“I will kill you!” I whisper to her. “I’m going to show up at your school with my underwear outside my clothes and follow you around all day long shouting all your secrets!”

She looks me dead in the eye, and I swear this child makes me so damn proud when she responds deadpan. “You need a life.”

She opens her menu and hides behind it, looking at the food. I yank my own menu up, still perturbed with her, but I can’t help glancing over at the counter. My teeth chew at my lower lip as I appreciate how gorgeous he is. Pool God glances up and looks in my direction, catching me looking. My cheeks flush and I whip my attention back to my menu.

“Don’t be so obvious.”

“What? I’m not doing anything,” I hiss at her.

“Aunt Rory, you’re basically staring at him,” she counters.

“How do you even know what being obvious is? You’re ten. You don’t date. If you do date, I’m gonna kill him. What’s his name? He’s dead.”

She giggles. “Aunt Rory!”

“I mean it. No boy’s good enough for you. Or girl. Is it a girl? She’s dead. What’s her name?”

The waitress takes our order, and we fall back into our easy banter. She may only be ten, but this girl has grown up way too fast, so I make sure to make her laugh as much as I can. I meant what I told her earlier. My brother and his stupid wife are missing out on her and they’re going to kick themselves if they ever figure it out. They’re on business trips almost every weekend and in the office late into the evening. More time for me, and I’ll take all I can get.

I pull into my mom’s driveway, and my exhaustion hits suddenly. Feeling the heaviness creep back in, I realize I used up all my spoons during the day, especially at the diner when trying to make Claire laugh. Spending time with her is worth it, though. It’s gonna be a rough evening, but I make it a point to try to push the depression away when I’m with Claire. I’m not ashamed of it, but she’s got enough problems. She doesn’t need to worry about me on top of everything. I’ll tell her if she asks when she’s older.

The door to my mom’s house opens right into the living room, so when I swing it open, she’s right there in a chair. She looks up as we move into the room fully and I close the front door. Her eyes shrewdly assess the two of us, and I mentally brace myself for whatever she’s going to throw at me when Claire leaves the room.

“Hey Grandma,” Claire says and gives her a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey baby,” my mom says gently. “Why don’t you go get started on some homework?”

“Okay,” she says, sounding put out. “Bye, Aunt Rory. Thanks for the sundae!”

“Anytime, honey buns,” I tell her.

She rolls her eyes as she walks away, and the moment she’s out of sight, I let myself deflate. The smile falls from my face and my shoulders slump. I can feel all the physical work I put into standing upright start to slide right out of me. I don’t fall to the floor, but it would be easy to let myself.

My mom scoffs and stands up. She doesn’t move closer to me, but she puts her hands on her hips. Her lips are drawn in a thin line and her gaze peruses me from head to foot, assessing me and finding me wanting.

“Rory, what are you doing?”

“Standing here? Wishing I left already?”

“You need to buck up and stop with this,” she says, waving her hand at me.

“Stop with what?” I ask her, hoping she’s not going down the road I know she’s about to go down.

“This whole depression thing, honey, I love you, but it’s not a good look. You have nothing to be depressed about,” she insists. “Do you have to look so dejected? Smile more.”

“Yeah, smiling more is one hundred percent the solution to all my problems.”

“I mean it. If you look happier, you’ll be happier.”

“God Mom, if I could shoot rainbows out my ass and sunshine from my mouth, I would! Most days it’s hard enough for me to function, let alone be a ray of fuckin’ sunshine. Sorry I’m not living up to your standards.”

“You just need to try harder, honey. You used to smile so much as a kid.”

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