Even with all this, I still think of you as my friend. And good friends look out for each other, take care of each other. But I can’t make you sober, and the only way I know to do right by you is to take care of that beautiful girl of yours. And if she can’t make you turn your life around, then nothing here will.

Ruth. Mom’s voice was plaintive, sad. I love her; you know that.

Then do one good thing for her.

What?

Get sober. And if you can’t do that here, then leave.

I’d scuttled inside Ruth’s apartment, flopped on the couch, and tried to pretend that I hadn’t heard a word.

I look down at my lap, and I’m thankful for the dark tunnel that surrounds the Jeep and hides my face. I think of the words I shouted at Mom outside BTI. Why can’t you stop? I hate you so much! “You stood up for me, Ruth,” I say. “You’ve always stood up for me.” The lights flick past, golden spots that dance across our skin. “Do you think she would have left if you hadn’t said anything?” I don’t mean to ask, don’t want Ruth to think it’s her fault. Except for a tightness around her mouth, she doesn’t answer right away, and I wonder whether I’ve asked this before. My cheeks warm. Maybe I’ve asked this a hundred times.

Wind whips against the side of the Jeep when we emerge from the tunnel, rocking the vehicle with its force. Ruth grips the steering wheel hard, and her eyes don’t leave the road when she speaks. “I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe it was something she’d been planning for a while. Seemed that way to me. I mean, you can’t just up and leave without a plan for when you get through the tunnel.” Ruth glances quickly in my direction. “She needed help, Claire, and she wasn’t getting it here. And to see her now—healthy, sober, and doing everything she can to be your mom again—then I’m glad I said something. Are you?” Her chin trembles the tiniest bit. I’d miss it on anyone else, but on Ruth, who doesn’t let her emotions ever get the best of her—well, this is an emotional display that hits me square in the chest.

My answer comes automatically. “I think that leaving was the best thing she could have done for me.” Her head jerks in my direction, and it’s not hard for me to guess that this isn’t an answer I’ve given before. “You did the right thing, Ruth.”

I stare out the windshield, take in the stretch of glacier-blue water that runs alongside the road, breathe in a lightness that spreads across my shoulders.