My mother smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t it be nice if it were that easy?”
“It would.”
“This whole thing has been bothering me, though,” she said. “I’ve been losing sleep over it.”
“You’re not the only one who’s been losing sleep over things.” I paused. “I went and saw a therapist on Thursday.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I’m not sure if I’m going to continue with the therapy, though.”
“It’s good you’re at least trying it. It can really help. I appreciate you telling me. Though I feel guilty over that, too. I think I’m probably a large reason why you’re in therapy to begin with.”
“You feel guilty over a lot of things, don’t you?” The reply sounded snappier than I meant it to.
“Of course I do,” my mother said. “How could I not? But we can’t go back in time. We can’t go back and change things, no matter how much I sometimes wish that we could.”
“I know, Mom.”
She took a deep breath and then exhaled loudly. “You know,” she said, “there was a time when I lost both you and your sister. Do you remember that? I think you were probably 6 or so.”
“You lost us?”
“I lost the two of you. For almost an hour. We had gone to Provincetown, and were walking down Commercial Street. We had just stopped at the saltwater taffy place, and you and Marissa had little bags of candy. And then your father and I happened to run into friends of ours that we hadn’t seen in ages, and we started talking, and they hadn’t met you guys before, so we introduced you, and you guys went and sat on one of the benches out front of this little shop that we were standing by, and I just... I got caught up in the conversation. Your father and I both did. And I remember finally looking over—I don’t even remember how much time had passed—and the bench was empty.”
“Really?” I said. “That really happened?” But now that she mentioned it, I did have a vague recollection, just a snippet, really, of a memory: sliding off the granite bench, the way a rough spot on the edge scraped the back of my legs, taking my sister by the hand as I told my parents we were just going for a walk. I knew they hadn’t heard me, but I had felt completely safe on the streets of Provincetown, had no fear whatsoever that anything bad would ever be able to happen to us. I had kept waiting for one of my parents to call us back, but that call never came, and we kept walking, down to the Wharf, where we sat in the warm sand and watched the waves roll in.
The only other thing I remembered from that day was a feeling, a feeling of exhilaration, that I had done something I knew my parents wouldn’t want me to do, but I had anyway, and it turned out just fine.
I looked at my mother and shrugged. “I remember that a little bit,” I said. “I think. Marissa and I went down to the Wharf. We sat in the sand and ate the rest of our candy.”
“When we finally found you, I was so relieved. And at the same time, I was so, so angry with myself. And your father. What kind of parents were we, letting our kids just wander off like that? Because we were too busy talking? Everyone was always telling me what a great mother I was, but what good mother would let their kids just get lost? It was a terrible feeling, so I know how you feel, Cole. But what you have to understand is that all parents make mistakes sometimes. No parent is able to pay 100 percent of their attention to their children 100 percent of the time. No matter what we tell ourselves. I had a hard time accepting that, for a while, but I had to forgive myself. Because you guys were fine, and because that was a very good lesson that I would never forget.”
She gave me a pointed look, and I knew she was expecting that I would say I realized I’d made a mistake and that I would give Allie a call right then and there. But I had already broken up with her; I wasn’t going to call her up and say I changed my mind. Even if there was a very large part of me that wanted to do exactly that, I wasn’t going to because that just seemed ridiculous.
“My decision’s already been made,” I said to my mother. “It’s not something that I’m going to walk back on now. I appreciate you sharing that story with me, and I know that no parent is perfect.”
“Then why are you holding yourself to some unreasonable expectation? I’ve been around you and Allie together—the two of you made a great couple. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy than I did when you were with her.”
“I know,” I said. “She did make me really happy. I don’t want to talk about this anymore, though, okay, Mom? It’s already hard enough as it is, without having to rehash it every time I see you.”
Luckily, my dad and Declan came back over, Declan asking if I wanted to try flying the airplane.
“Sure,” I said, pushing myself up out of the chair. “Let me give that thing a try.”
I walked out into the middle of the yard, Declan trailing after me. I stood there and pushed the controls, moving the little joystick around to steer the plane.
“Let’s see how high this thing can go,” I said, guiding the plane up, up, up.
Declan stood next to me, eyes wide. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “Look how high it goes!”
But then he wanted me to give him the controller, so I handed it over, and stood there next to him as the plane zoomed around us. Across the yard, I could see that Allie had come out of her house and into the backyard. The foliage had grown in enough that we could all pretend that we weren’t aware the other was out there, but I knew she’d be able to hear us. I glanced down and could see that Declan was aware she out there too; he was still pressing the controls but was looking right at her.
And then the plane took off, sailed right over my head, going higher, clearing the maple tree, and nosediving right into Allie’s yard.
“Oops,” Declan said.
“You did that on purpose.”