Page 89 of From Now On

A pause, as she deliberates how hard to push. I’ve always said I would move to New York after college, and she’s always tried to talk me out of it. There’s a new urgency on her end, as graduation ticks closer. And a new determination on mine, now that I’m moving solo.

She lets the subject drop. “I called to check on you. I know you’re upset about your father?—”

“I’m not,” I lie. “I saw it coming, just like you said. I was just letting you know, in caseyouthought he’d changed.”

“I learned that lesson a long time ago, Eve.”

I toss another balled-up T-shirt atop the colors, grimacing when it topples the entire pile.

I get why my mom hates my dad. He completely ignored my existence. The first child support check didn’t come until I was nine. My mom never deposited it, even though she needed the money. Having me ruined her relationship with her parents, and her plans for the future, while my dad’s life didn’t change at all.

Ihate him for that.

But also… He’s my dad. The only one I have. I like John, but we’ve never had the sort of relationship where I view him as a father figure. No matter how many mistakes my dad has made, I’d rather suffer through the occasional, sports-centered phonecall than never have any communication with him at all. I want to havesomeidea of who he is, rather than just this blank void in my life.

I haven’t forgotten or forgiven the past. But I don’t feel I have to, to talk to him once a month.

Or, Ididn’t. After our last conversation, I’m tempted to end any effort. I’ll have to decide by Tuesday, when he’s supposed to call.

I play with the zipper on my suitcase. “I should go, Mom. Classes start back up tomorrow morning, and I’ve got a stack of laundry to do.”

“Okay.” She hesitates, and I know what’s coming before she speaks. She can’t help herself. “Just think about moving home at first, all right? New York isn’t going anywhere. You could save some money, and think things through a little more.”

My mom thinks my life-long dream of living in New York is an idea Ihaven’t thought through.

I wish she’d try to see my perspective on things. With my dad, and with my art. Understand that I have to learn lessons too. That Chandler doesn’t have the museums or the galleries or the opportunities or the excitement of New York. But practicality is her way of expressing love. It’s what worked for her. She’s worried about me in a strange city, and I can’t resent her for that.

“Yeah,” I say. “I will.”

“Okay. I love you, Eve,” she tells me, and then hangs up.

A sentiment she only expresses after we’ve argued about something. Almost like an explanation.

I’m telling you to move homebecause I love you.

I’m telling you to give up on your fatherbecause I love you.

I know she does. I just hate how those three words feel like a reminder of the ways I’ve inconvenienced her—and continue to. She made so many sacrifices for me, because that’s what a good parent is supposed to do. And a dutiful daughter would havemajored in something practical, not art, and have a job offer waiting in a reasonably priced city.

I put on some Arctic Monkeys to drown out my mother’s worried voice in my head, then haul my dirty laundry down the hall to the washer. It only works after you kick the bottom left corner twice, a trick it took me and Harlow three weeks to figure out. We should leave a note for the next tenants.

Once the washer starts spinning, I head into the kitchen. There’s no sign of Harlow, so she must still be outside with Conor.

I make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—food options are limited since most of what’s in the fridge has expired—and return to my room.

It’s a mess from my hasty packing last week, so I clean up a little while “Fluorescent Adolescent” blares.

Halfway through organizing my desk, I sigh and pick up my phone. Typing out the text to my mom only takes a few seconds.

EVE: I love you too.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

HUNTER

Idrum my fingers against the side of the table, take a bite of the turkey wrap I made for lunch, and then resume staring at my phone.

I asked Conor for Eve’s number before he left for class this morning, claiming she’d left a phone charger in my car. Except…she didn’t, so I have no cluewhatto text her.

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