It felt right before, but now it looks odd. Because I’ve been there, and I’ve seen how little they say to each other and how distant Will is. I’ve seen the looks Chris gives Jane when she’s not watching. They aren’t a happy family. They didn’t even pretend to be. So why are they sitting on a single sofa when they could have one each?

Will drew the stick figures. I thought Amy was the answer to the puzzle, but it’s her brother. This must have been his room, so why did she say it was hers? And it still doesn’t explain the holes in both doors. Two locks for two bedrooms.

“How was it?” Mum asks.

She’s at it again—catching me by surprise. But, then, she spent years tiptoeing around monsters.

“It was weird.”

“In what way?”

“Amy’s parents are odd. It just felt a bit awkward.”

Mum sits on the end of my bed and smiles. “We should still return the favor,” she says, and I imagine her running around, trying to make everything perfect and freaking out about the smallest imperfection.

Mum wants everyone to be happy in her happily-ever-after. Mostly we are, but she overreacts when we’re not.

“Maybe one day,” I say.

“You like this girl.” It’s not a question, so I don’t answer. I just watch her until she says, “It’s okay if you do.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay. But, if you do, embrace it, Tom. I know what you’ve seen, and I know what you think. But, if you don’t try, you’ll never know. Your dad and I weren’t meant to be. It wasn’t a mistake. It just wasn’t forever.”

She’s right. But that doesn’t mean I’ll listen.

Mum found the love of her life when she was forty, which I used to think was old until I saw her face when they got married. She looked younger than she had in years. And, yes, that repaired some of the damage, but I’ve still seen what love does when it’s mislabeled or when it sours.

I don’t think I love Amy yet. But I like her more than I should. That’s where it starts, if you let it. And that’s why I’m shutting it down.

“If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

“I know,” I say, wondering what she would do if I did talk, if I told her about the carvings and Will’s sketchbook and my fears.

Mum is most properly Mum when it’s just the two of us. I like it, but I feel sad at the same time, because it hasn’t always been like this.