My first instinct when I hung up was to get onto my computer and talk to the guy who’d been giving me advice for over a month now. It took me two seconds to remember that guy was also the one who just walked away from me like he was finished. No, he wasn’t finished. He was just hurt that I didn’t want him to stay, like Amelia said. Everything would be fine once we talked again.

I signed onto the computer anyway, thinking I could just read over our old conversations and get something helpful out of them. But they were gone. Every last private message we’d shared had been deleted. And since I hadn’t done it, that meant Jackson had. My heart tightened in pain and I quickly shut the computer. If I hadn’t thought he was walking away before, I knew now. He was done with me. Just like that.

The next five hours went by both painfully slow and alarmingly fast. I spent them cleaning. Icing my shoulders more. Making sure everything was in order so that when Mom came home, at least she’d be happy about one thing. I wasn’t sure if I should wait outside, sitting on the tailgate of the truck. Or if I should let her have her reaction in private and wait inside, where hopefully she’d have concealed some of the initial shock.

Like the coward I decidedly was, I chose inside.

I wore my hair down and put on a nice outfit, as though I were waiting for a date. I was usually in swim gear so this, too, would make my mom happy.

The key in the lock sent my heart racing. I began a silent plea, to God or to my brother or to whoever was listening, that this wouldn’t break apart my family. The sound of things, her purse maybe, hitting the entryway floor, followed by rushing feet prepared me for her arrival. And then there she was, standing in the doorway to the living room, a panicked look on her face.

When she saw me, that panicked look melted into relief. I was confused by the reaction but then anger took over her features. That’s what I’d been expecting.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I didn’t mean to.”

“What. Happened.”

The speech I had rehearsed for five hours left me faster than I could blink. It was a good speech, if I remembered. One that explained how sorry I was and how much I just wanted to feel equally loved. Something that would make me sound apologetic and her feel guilty. That had seemed like the right balance. But my brother’s voice on the tape was repeating over and over in my head. If you can’t laugh, what’s life worth?