I grinned. “It was just…this.” I gestured at the barricades. “That’s my theory, anyway. She and Dad were having some issues, I was old enough to know that, but I never knew it was that bad. One day she was here and things were pretty normal and the next day she left.”

“You don’t hear from her?”

“Nope. After she left, my dad said a few things, not a whole lot, but I got the impression she had a strange past, you know? Like she was maybe in jail or something? I’d believe it. She was smart but kind of devious, too. She probably married Dad because he was safe, different than the rest of her life. But she can take care of herself. I bet she went and got herself a new name and a new ID, and is off getting sick of a whole new husband and little kid. Mexico, maybe. Or Hawaii. Or just some small tropical island somewhere.”

“That’s sweet of you.”

“What’s sweet of me?”

“To imagine her somewhere beautiful like that.”

This made me stop and think. I did, in fact, picture my mom walking barefoot along a beachfront, dodging sand dollars and starfish, inhaling the salt smell and trying to find glimpses of her old life in the red sun setting behind a lush green mountain. These fantasies were dry of emotion, and for the first time I wondered if I had drained them to protect myself.

“I was home sick the day she left,” I said. “I was there when she walked out. She didn’t say a thing. She just undid all the locks and walked out. After a while, I got up and locked the door behind her. I was just a kid; I thought that’s what I was supposed to do. So I don’t feel sweet, you know? I locked the door behind her. It was the day before my birthday, the first of May, and I was like, well, if she’s not going to at least stay for my birthday, then screw her.”

“May second is my birthday, too,” Claire said.

“Seriously?”

“Inverness, Scotland, May second.”

“Scotland? I thought you were from, like, London.”

“London! Good god! Don’t you know a Scottish accent when you hear one?”

“Well, they’re similar, right?”

“Similar? You say that in the Highlands, mister, and you’ll be spouting a bleeder.”

“Sorry! I didn’t—I guess I don’t know my accents as well as—”

“Hey, we ought to have a party together in May.”

“A party? Two seconds ago you were going to punch me.”

“Though I’m a full year older than you. My guests might be a little more mature.”

“At least you’d have guests.”

“What about Tobias? He’s worth three or four guests, I’d wager.”

“Tub and I aren’t really talking at the moment.”

“Mr. Sturges,” she sighed. “So much gloom!”