Page 60 of Still Love You

"She has a whole box full of stuff. She could probably make more this weekend. And I could sell her granola. People love that."

"If you really want to do this, I'll call the coordinator and get you set up, but you should ask your mom first."

"I will. I'll ask her when she gets home." I pick up a box of beads from the floor. They're all different colors. I would've separated them by color, but Diane likes them all mixed together. I scoop up a handful and let them fall through my fingers.

"Still wearing Silas' bracelet?" She points to my wrist.

"Yeah." I hold it up. "I love this bracelet. I wear it almost every day."

"You know, when Silas was overseas and would call me, he'd always ask how you were doing. Every single time."

I nod, feeling ashamed for not answering his calls.

"I understand why you didn't talk to him," she says, stringing neon green beads on a silver chain.

"You do?"

"Sometimes it's easier to forget than remember. You and I are forgetters. Silas is a rememberer. Martin is too."

"What does that mean?"

"We like to forget the things that hurt us."

"Silas didn't hurt me," I say quietly, scooping up more beads. "I hurt him."

"But it hurt you to no longer be with him. So you tried to forget him and all the memories you two had together. That makes you a forgetter. Silas would rather remember. As much as it hurts him, he remembers every moment you spent together."

"How do you know that?"

"Because he's my son." She smiles. "I know my son. I'm always amazed that he'll remember the most obscure things about when you two were kids. Like just the other day, he was telling me he has an accounting test on Saturday, and that led him to remember a story about when you were eight and were upset that the school didn't give out grades."

She's referring to the private school I used to go to with Silas. Our hippie teacher thought grades weren't necessary, saying everyone learns at their own pace and excels at different things, so assigning grades would only discourage a child's ability to grow into the person they're meant to be. I couldn't take not knowing how I did on a test. I knew kids in public school who got grades and I wanted them too.

"I wanted a report card," I say.

"Yes." She laughs. "So Silas said he made one for you. He said you kept threatening to leave and go to public school but he didn't want you to go, so he made you a report card, hoping it would make you stay."

"Yeah, I remember that. He gave me all A's except in Art, which he gave me a B in. I was so mad."

"He said that was because you had an assignment in which were you were supposed to rip up magazine pages and make a picture using the scraps, but you refused to do it that way."

I laugh. "I'm surprised he remembered that. I barely remember it. What did he say I did wrong?"

"He said you approached the project too logically. Instead of ripping the pieces, you cut them into orderly squares with scissors, then put them back in place, like you were putting together a puzzle."

"Did I get in trouble for it?"

"No. There were no rules at that school. Your teacher said you were just expressing your personality. You like logic and for things to make sense. There's nothing wrong with that. But Silas had to give you a hard time for not following instructions, which explains the B you got in Art." She holds up the green necklace she just finished. "What do you think of this?"

"I like it better than the other one. I'd probably wear that."

She sets it down and starts on a bracelet. "Silas was in the garage the other day, using my metal stamper."

"He's making more charms?"

"I think he was making just one, for a certain someone." She grins, her eyes on the beads she's holding as she tries to decide which ones to use.

"He said he's making me a bracelet."

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