|SEVENTEEN|

The relationship I had with my mother always felt like a cloudy, grey day on the brink of a thunderstorm. You walked through it cautiously, with your umbrella halfway open, praying it'd just be over with and rain.

And, now it finally had, the sun was new and foreign and blinding in an overwhelming way I couldn't explain. It felt good, warm on my skin and comforting. Yet, I couldn't fully open my eyes. They were sore from being shaded so long.

Because of this, my mother and I found we couldn't just sit and expose ourselves for long periods of time. We would both grow uncomfortable and shut down. So, we found a solution. During dinner we each allowed ourselves to ask one thing about each other to discuss. We had to answer and be one-hundred percent honest, but we got to choose how much was divulged.

It was a simple strategy, and it worked well for us. For the first time we spoke more than a couple sentences to each other a week. We actually talked-and I heard her laugh-really laugh-and it was the closest I'd ever felt to her. She didn't just feel like Meredith Sinclair, mayor of Ashwood Creek, anymore. She felt like Mom-not the home-makery type, or the soccer mom type, or the working mom type-but someone I could relate to, someone who was more than just surface level.

Things were changing and everyone noticed. My eyes were clear, my heart was open, and I felt like free falling.

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"So, where is he?" Quinn sat perched on the arm of the chair opposite of mine, the one Bash usually fell into after dropping a new book in my lap.

I glanced down the aisle, listening for the book cart that never used to squeak but had started to recently. All I got was a whiff of dust and yellowing pages. We'd been sitting here for fifteen minutes, and still, there was no sign of Bash anywhere. It never took him this long to appear.

I shrugged. "Don't know. He usually senses I'm here. Maybe he took the day off."

A part of me was happy he hadn't shown. I didn't want to bring Quinn with me, but she insisted she get to meet Bash again since the last time she saw him was an embarrassing memory for me, to say the least.

I didn't want to share Bash with Quinn. She was always bubbly and flirty around guys, like her personality suddenly got dipped in sugar when one entered the room. And, maybe it was ridiculous to feel possessive of Bash because of my best friend, but I'd worked so hard to make sure Bash was my haven, my special person. I hated the idea of tainting that.

Quinn sighed and slipped down into the cushions boredly. After a moment of inspecting the ends of her dirty blonde hair, she looked up at me. "Can I be honest with you?"

I hated that question. It always made my insides seize up in panic. Nevertheless, I calmly answered, "Sure."

Her lips pursed. "He's not as cute as I thought he'd be."

The relief I felt made me giggle. "Oh?"

She nodded and then leaned across the end table between us to whisper, "He looks like one of our forefathers with that hair, don't you think? And, he works here, in the library? Shouldn't he be at a university?"

My face flushed, and I struggled to gather a coherent sentence when I heard a newly familiar squeaking sound and turned to see Bash rounding the corner. Seeing me, his lips stretched into a smile.

"Jovial," he crowed, "Now, what on Earth are you doing here? I thought I wasn't going to see you until this weekend-Oh...Hi." Bash stopped rolling the cart forward, and looked to Quinn.

My eyebrows pinched, and I looked behind me to see Quinn waving, a bit guiltily like she hadn't just been saying he looked like a forefather. I shook my head and turned to watch Bash slowly make the rest of the way over.

He pointed at her, and his forehead crinkled thoughtfully. "You're..."

"Quinn. Quinn Alberstein, Jovie's best friend," she answered.

"She wanted to come see you," I explained. "She's been begging since she found out about you that she get to see the guy that-"

"Makes her so happy," Quinn interrupted, smiling. My face warmed, but she continued, her cheeks glowing and her crossed leg swinging. "And, I didn't tell Jovie, but, I wanted to thank you-that's all. Some really good stuff has happened since you waltzed in. And, she'll never admit that she needs other people, but, I think she needed you."

I scowled, embarrassed. "Quinn."

Her smile grew wider, and she gave Bash a wink. "See?"

Bash stood there silently, lips turned up, eyes soft on me. My cheeks burned so much one might have thought I'd just stepped in from the cold. It wasn't untrue, but it wasn't something I ever wanted said out loud, either. And, having Quinn as an audience to Bash's fond gaze made a nervous flutter ripple through me and force my eyes to the floor. Then, he was at my side, pressing a kiss to my hair and thanking Quinn.

"She's very fortunate to have you in her life," Bash said to Quinn cordially. "But, I'm only here because she wants me here-not because she needed me in any way."

It felt weird to be listening to this conversation, which felt as though it should be taking place without my presence. Feeling antsy, I suddenly stood.

"Well." I laughed nervously and slung my jacket over my shoulders. "You guys have had a proper meeting, now. That's all good. But, I can't stay any longer because dinners with my mother have become very important to me."

Quinn blinked a couple of times in confusion. "Jovie, it's only four."

"It's time to go," I insisted, grabbing her arm.

She stood, grabbing her coat in a rush as I began backing away from the scene. Bash still stood beside the arm chair, eyes wide, forehead still crinkled as he tried to register what was happening. I don't know why I was embarrassed, but the fuzziness in my brain wasn't letting me process anything I was doing. Something about the exchange made me very uncomfortable, and I just couldn't place what it was.

It was beyond me even as I waved to Bash. "I'll see you this weekend."

He didn't reply. He simply watched me do what he does best in the library: disappear.

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My mother and I still prepared dinner the same way we always did. She chatted away about work while we bustled around the kitchen pulling drawers open, boiling water, cutting vegetables, and walking around each other in perfect synchronization. But, where the chatter usually died away as we sat down to eat, it was forced to continue.

I had already learned some things about my mother I didn't already know. I asked little things in the beginning like what she was like as a kid, and who her best friends were. The more I unfolded, the bolder I became. I got her to touch on the subject of her mother, but she only repeated the things I already knew. And, I guess that was okay. From what I knew from both Meredith and Henry, my grandmother wasn't the most pleasant of people.

Tonight, I planned to ask about Henry. She could say as little or as much as she wanted on my father, but I didn't want to hear the same old thing she always said.

As we sat at the table and began to dish ourselves up, she waited patiently for my question since it was my turn to go first. I waited for her to finish, but asked before she could take a bite.

"Did Henry ever take you out on a date?"

My mother lowered her spoon before it got to her mouth and tilted her chin. "Henry? That's what you want to talk about?"

Her voice sounded tired, not angry or guarded like I expected.

I nodded. "Henry respects that you never want to talk about it, so he never tells me anything either. And, I'm sure it's because you're trying to kill the idea of you two ever being together, but, Henry's my dad. I kinda want to know why."

Sighing, she set her spoon on her plate. Then, she crossed her arms atop the table and looked at me seriously. "I knew this was going to come up, I guess I was just hoping I could avoid it."

"Why?" I asked.

Her lips twitched into a sad smile. "Because he never gave me a reason to treat him the way that I do. And...I didn't want my own daughter judging me."

I mimicked her posture and returned the same serious look. "Maybe I don't want to make the same mistake."

She held my gaze for a moment, and then her eyes dropped to the table where our dinner remained untouched. "He did take me on a date. Just, not in the traditional sense."

I felt a flurry of excitement, as though I'd just found a prize at the bottom of a cereal box. "He did?"

She nodded. "After work we went for a drive and just talked." She smiled a little. "He stopped at the park and he turned the music up. We laid on the roof of his car talking and looking at the stars. We didn't know any constellations, we just made them up and laughed." As she talked, I watched a dreamy look glaze over her eyes, I watched her sink into the dining room chair at the memory. "And, when the laughter died down we just looked at each other and I couldn't remember the last time anyone made me feel that special. We weren't allowed to date our coworkers, so we were being a little rebellious," she laughed, blushing. She looked ten years younger as she spoke. "Then, this Johnny Cash song came on, and he loves Johnny Cash, so we got off the roof and we danced in the park. And, when the song was over he kissed me. And, that's all it took." She shook her head and glanced up at me. I blinked, waiting for her to continue, and although she looked reluctant to finish the story, she took a deep breath and carried on.

"And then I was embarrassed," she told me. "And I knew that we'd get in trouble. So, I stopped talking to Henry because I didn't want anyone to find out that anything had happened between us. But, when I found out I was pregnant, it was hard to keep to myself. And, Henry wanted to be in your life so...my job suffered a bit, and the only reason I wasn't immediately fired for the affair was because I am good at my job. Henry is only allowed to be my assistant as long as he remains stagnant in his position."

My fingers twisted together timidly. "Did you love him?"

She averted her eyes. "He's your father, and he takes good care of you."

"That isn't what I asked," I said, feeling my pulse quicken, knowing that if she said she loved him once, or maybe even that she loved him still, it would change everything I've ever known about them.

"I loved him once," she said, repeating what he had said to her not that long ago, and it was like watching Jericho's wall tumble down, revealing everything that could have been. And, as soon as she said it she recaptured my gaze in a frightened kind of way. "But, he can't ever know that. You know Henry. He'd do something stupid."

I nodded, and slumped back in my chair to process what she'd just told me. Not so long ago I would have thought my mother incapable of loving someone, but now, all I could feel was warmth in my chest, and a strange sense of satisfaction. Perhaps romantic love wasn't as hard as I used to think. Maybe it really wasn't about willingness in the matter.

"So," she said after she'd taken a bite of her dinner and let me sit in silence for a moment. "What about Bash? How do you think that's going to play out?"

I froze in place, unprepared for the question, and still shaken from the exchange between him and Quinn earlier that day. I still hadn't figured out why it bothered me so much.

"I don't know," I said, and it was an honest answer. "I can't stay with him forever. It's unrealistic."

"But, you want to stay with him?" She guessed.

I didn't say anything. I hated that question, hated it. I just wanted to wait it out, deal with it when the time came. The more I thought about all of these questions, the harder they became to answer.

It used to be easy. I would say: "We're going to separate before I graduate," or, "He agreed a long time ago to let go when I say so." But, things had changed these past few months. Feelings had changed. And, answering that way wasn't so easy anymore. It was painful.

"What does he do now, stack books? Not very ambitious. Certainly not someone who would be able to pull their own weight in a serious relationship," my mother continued, her voice heavier than before, like a weight ready to knock down my walls.

"He took a couple college courses here and there, but he's been busy moving around, finding himself, working..." I tell her a bit defensively.

She raised her eyebrows in a fashion that told me she wasn't convinced. "Ah. Well, just remember. When it comes to relationships, you can't be willy-nilly about it, okay? Not like me. That's why I don't bother anymore. I can't trust my own judgment-"

"But, Henry-"

"Is wonderful," she said, but it wasn't in the same tone she'd used earlier while talking about him. Something had realigned inside her. "But it almost got me fired. Think about it, Jovie. Bash is wonderful, too. But, he moseys around, and he's not serious. You don't end up with every man you love."

I looked at the lock in her jaw and the sharpness of her stare, and I knew she was speaking the only truth she knew.

"It's not forever, Bash and I," I told her, stonily. "It was never supposed to be."