“I don’t know. You’re telling me about Harbor and Lucas.” She rushes me, taking me by the wrists and holding them between us. “What do you know?” The words flow from her mouth in a panic. “Do you know what happened that day?”

Striking out in my pain to cause others the same isn’t who I am. It’s not who I want to be, either. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She searches my eyes and then begins to cry. Her hands lower, and she turns away from me. “He closed down, shut us out.” Her sobs have her back wracking with sobs.

“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling worse than I did when I arrived. “I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

Turning back to me, she says, “You didn’t. It’s just a reminder of how much pain he’s been in, and we couldn’t spare him from it. We tried, Lark. We got him help, let things go when he stepped out of line, and tempered our reactions for the longest time. From the car accident to when he came to us months ago about—” She stops abruptly and returns to the kitchen, snagging tissues from a box hidden beside the fridge.

Harbor and I were together at that time, so when she hands me a tissue, I ask, “What happened months ago?”

“That’s why I texted your dad. I’m sorry for not coming to your party today. Under the circumstances, I thought it best to explain to your dad that you and I needed to talk. I wasn’t sure if he’d like to drive you or if you’d come alone. Whether you’d come today or tomorrow. I just didn’t know.” She presses her hand to her head as if she’s exhausted. “I’m sorry. I’ve been rude.” She looks at me, and says, “Congratulations on graduating. We have a gift for you somewhere around here.” She glances around like she left it here originally. “I . . .” Her mind suddenly seems to be elsewhere. She moves into the family room and sits on the edge of the sofa.

“What were you saying about Harbor and Lucas?”

Seeing this usually graceful and calm woman falling apart, I realize we may not be so far apart in our pain. With a shared interest in her son’s well-being, I sit in a chair next to her. “Why did Harbor leave me?”

“He’s doing what he believes is best for you.”

I bristle from the words she dared to utter and then stand, needing space to help unfold my racing thoughts. “Why the elaborate plan? Why did he even show up today if he knew he’d be gone?” I pace the floor, asking everything that comes to mind. “Why not break up with me? Be honest, please. Tell me the truth. Do I mean so little to him that I don’t even deserve a goodbye?”

“He loves you—”

“This doesn’t feel like love. It feels like torture.” The tears begin to well in the corners of my eyes, so I stop to dab them with the tissue.