Page 117 of Atmosphere

“I love you, Frances,” Joan said.

“I love you, too.”

Joan shut the door. She tried to regain her composure before going downstairs.

“So that’s it?” Joan said as she put her hand on the door handle. “The decision has been made? There will be no further discussion?”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for us. I really do. Like I said, I know I haven’t always made that clear. So thank you. But my child is unhappy. I want her to find a place in the world where she feels she belongs.”

Joan wanted to take her hands and thrust them into Barbara’s shoulders, to knock her down on the ground. She wanted to yell at her. Shake some sense into her. She wanted to go upstairs and tell Frances that she deserved a home where she felt she belonged.

Instead, she gritted her teeth and walked out the door.

The day Frances was leavingfor boarding school, Joan woke up in Vanessa’s bed and started crying before she was even alert.

Ever since Frances had been born, Joan had not gone more than ten days without seeing her for at least a few minutes. Now Joan was approaching a future where she saw her only on holidays. Even if this was good for Frances, like Barbara claimed, it would break Joan’s heart to miss her this much.

Vanessa handed Joan a tissue. Joan dried her tears.

“She will be home some weekends,” Vanessa said.

“I know,” Joan said. “I’ll miss her, but I’ll be okay. I’m just…”

“They’re shitty parents,” Vanessa said finally.

Joan looked at her, shocked.

“You talkaroundit,” Vanessa said. “Even your mother seems to know it but is unable to say it. But just say it. It’s shitty, what Barb and Daniel are doing.”

“Barb thinks it’s what’s best for Frances,” Joan said.

Vanessa frowned. “Do you think it’s what’s best for Frances?”

“Of course not.”

“Do you think if Barbara thought about it for one second, she would still think it’s best for Frances?”

Joan shook her head. “For some kids itwouldbe a good idea. But if Barb were honest with herself, she would see that her child is acting out because she’s lonely and needs to feel cared about and pulled in. Not sent further away.”

“Exactly.”

“But I’m not Barbara,” Joan said. “At the end of the day, Frances is not my kid. She’s my niece.”

“Yes, but also, who cares what word you use? Some aunts are completely irrelevant, and some aunts have been there since the daytheir niece was born. I had one grandmother I never saw and one who, when she died, I cried for three days. The word isn’t what matters. It’s the specific relationship. You love that kid more than anything on this planet. She knows that. And that’s what matters.”

Joan nodded. “I don’t know how I’m going to say goodbye to her.”

“You’ll tell her what you have to. That you’ll be fine, even if you won’t. And she’ll be fine, even if you’re not sure. And that you’re always there.”

—

Joan went over that morningand had breakfast with Barbara, Daniel, and Frances. They were leaving in an hour to start the drive.

As Barbara and Daniel packed the car, Joan sat with Frances in her room.

“I’m in Clarefield Hall,” Frances said. She picked up the brochure she had from her first visit to campus. “You can see it in the background here.”

Frances pointed to a large brick dormitory behind what looked like a campus square.

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