Aria’s laugh was hollow. “I’m not a drug addict, Mom. I’ve never even tried pot before. But would it be so bad if I did? Just to take the edge off of life?”

“Take the edge off? What edge?” She was fifteen. No fifteen-year-old should have an edge to her life. Of course, I couldn’t discount the fact she was undergoing a huge personal crisis—yet one she didn’t seem to be aware of. I prayed this edge had nothing to do with her knowing what happened with Ryan.

“Never mind. I’m just saying stress, that’s all. Sometimes it sounds nice to just . . . drift away for a bit.”

Okay, that worried me. Drifting away sounded an awful lot like drowning, which sounded an awful lot like a death wish.

“Is all this morbid talk because of Ryan?” I couldn’t avoid this conversation any longer. It was due. “I know you’re avoiding him. I see all the missed calls on your phone.”

Aria shrugged, then sat cross-legged on her bed. “Maybe a little. I don’t remember every detail, but I know we made out. And I feel really weird about it now.”

“Why would you feel weird?”

“I’m embarrassed about it! First of all, I was drunk so I don’t know if I was throwing myself at him, and I’m petrified he’s going to think less of me now. And then I was worried Dad would find out. It’s just a big mess, and I don’t know where Ryan and I stand. It’s all so confusing, Mom.”

“I know, it always is with matters of the heart.” I sat next to her, wrapping my arm around her side as she rested her head on my shoulder. I hadn’t lost my little girl after all.

“Does it ever get better?”

I wanted to tell her yes, of course it did, but it wasn’t my reality. “I don’t know, honey. Maybe you should talk to someone—a therapist who can help you sort through all of these feelings.”

She heaved an exasperated sigh. “No, I just want to talk to you. Connect with you. Sometimes I feel like I don’t really know you. I only know the version Dad has molded over the years.”

“Oh, sweetie. This is the real me. And you can always talk to me.” I touched her cheek, and her fingers rested on mine, holding my hand against her damp skin.

“Everything feels so . . . chaotic right now. I just wish I could go away for a little while.”

“Don’t we all. Hey, what do you say to us both doing it together?” I pointed to the baggie sticking out of her drawer, then headed toward it. “I’m not saying I want to make this a new bonding thing, but right now I could use a hit. Mommy-daughter bonding over a joint.” I was being facetious, of course, but in this moment it didn’t sound like such a horrible idea.