“You couldn’t breathe,” I say, thunderstruck. I expected to feel anger when I came here. I expected confusion. I never expected understanding.

She nods. “Those were the worst days. Like I didn’t have lungs anymore.”

“And so you ran.” Oh, Dom.

“Yeah.”

“Running doesn’t help.”

“It gets you farther away. For a time.”

“But it always comes back.”

“I know,” she says. “I know that every day.”

“Where’s Frank? Or Joe? Or whoever?”

She snorts. “It’s just me and Izzie. They left. Everyone leaves.”

“Oh how unfair.” I can’t keep the sarcasm from my voice.

Julie laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I suppose it’s what I deserve.”

“I suppose there’s always that rough guy at the diner, huh?”

“It is what it is. I’ve accepted that.”

“Have you?”

“It’s who I am.”

“How fatalistic of you.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know what that means.”

“That’s not what family does,” I say slowly. “They don’t leave when things get hard.” The words are hard to get out because I know how hypocritical they sound coming from me.

The defiant look comes back. “I know.”

“Do you?” Do I?

“I was never meant to be a mother.”

“Buy condoms next time.”

“Are you done?” she asks, eyes flashing. “You come here, into my house, and—”

“I did the same thing,” I tell her. “I ran.”

She stops. Stares. Rubs her mouth with her free hand. Wipes her eyes. “From Bear?”

“Not physically. But yes. From him. From Otter.”

“They still together?”

“Do you care?” I ask.

She doesn’t respond.

“Yes,” I say. “They are. They’ve been married for a long time. Legally married. They’re going to have kids.”

“Wicked,” Izzie says.

A weird look comes over Julie’s face. “I’m going to be a grandm—”

“No,” I cut in. “You’re not. You don’t get to say that.”

She glares at me.

“I ran,” I tell my mother who is not my mom. “I ran because things got tough. Life got hard. I ran because it was easier than facing it head-on. And I almost lost….” I shake my head. It’s none of her business. Not about Dom. None of it. “I almost lost everything. And I thought it was all because of you. I thought I couldn’t breathe because of you. I thought it was all on you. But it’s not. This is about me. And despite you—maybe even because of you—I’m going to find my way back.” I think of Dom. And Otter. Most of all, I think of my brother. I owe him everything. “And I think I might have already started.”

“Good for you,” she says bitterly. “Anything else? Or do you want to throw more back in my face?”

“That’s how you see it?”

“That’s how it is.”

“You’re not my mother.”

“I gave birth to you.”

“You did,” I agree. “And there were times I can even remember being happy with you. Do you remember the kite?”

She starts to shake her head but then stops. I think she’s going to ignore it, but then she whispers, “It flew so high,” and a tear slides down her cheek. Just one.