Page 50 of How to Walk Away

“No,” she said, so emphatically she almost sang it. “Of course not. But—has he been to visit you?”

“Some,” I said.Not really.

“I’m just saying, it’s time to get better and put things right.”

Why was this all on my shoulders? Why wasn’t it Chip’s job to get better and start visiting me? “By ‘get better,’” I asked, “do you mean ‘walk again’?”

She pretended the idea had never occurred to her. “Well, wouldn’t that be ideal? Isn’t that worth a try?”

Worth a try?I felt like my eyeballs were going to start spinning. What did she think I was doing over here? Playing Xbox and drinking beer? Iwastrying. Every morning that I woke up and remembered the wreckage of my life, I was trying. Every breath I took, I was trying. Every second of being conscious all day long, I was trying.

I took a slow breath and held it. Then I said, “I’m just glad I can shit on the toilet.”

My mother’s eyes widened, but before she could respond, someone knocked on the door.

“Come in!” my mother and I both said at the same time, not dropping each other’s gaze.

The door pushed open, and it was Kitty. Looking mad.

***

MY MOTHER HADN’Tseen Kitty in three years. Hadn’t seen the spiky-blond new hair, or the tattoos, or the piercings. I’m not even sure she recognized her at first.

But when she did, she went very still.

Kitty held her gaze and walked straight in, stopping on the other side of my bed. She was a little out of breath. From below, I watched them eyeing each other.

When my mom finally spoke, her voice was low. “I thought you only came here in the evenings.”

“I wanted to see you,” Kit said.

My mother lifted an eyebrow. “I can’t imagine that’s true.”

“I have something to say.”

“I think we’ve said it all.”

“I haven’t.”

With that, Kitty raised my curiosity—but not my mother’s.

“As you can see,” my mother said, “I’m pretty busy right now.”

“I want you to tell Margaret why I went away.”

My mom looked at Kit dead-on. “No.”

“She deserves to know.”

“I disagree.”

“She is angry at me for leaving. Atme!”

“I can’t tell her how to feel.”

“But you can tell her why I had to go.”

This was how they always were together—Kit pushing until my mother snapped. This time, it didn’t take long. My mother leaned closer, her voice like a hiss. “Hasn’t she been through enough?”

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