I do my best to change the subject. “Do you think you’ll come back to the States for the holidays?”
“I was planning on it,” she says, “but I’m enjoying myself so much and I’m just not sure I’m ready to come home.” Her tone shifts. “Do you want me to come?”
“It’s up to you. Leelee and I can celebrate together.”
“You have your neighbors too, right? You do a lot together.”
“Right. I’m sure we’ll have something big planned.”
“Oh, the Woolly Drop! I forgot all about it. You have to go!”
“The what?” I sit on my bed.
“The Woolly Drop. It’s this crazy New Year’s Eve thing down in Mammoth Lake—at the resort. It’s like the ball drop in New York, but you know, with a local twist. You should go—take your friends. It’s fun.”
“I’ll look into it.”
“I got my first kiss at the Woolly Drop. From Bobby Kringle.” I can hear the smile in her voice.
“That’s great, Mom.” I look at my watch. It’s already five-thirty. “I should probably go and finish getting ready. It takes a while to get down to June Lake.”
“Right. Be careful on the roads, okay?”
“I will.” There’s a beat and for the first time in a long while, I miss my mom. “Have a good trip.”
“I’ll talk to you soon, sweetie. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I hang up and sit on my bed for a moment longer, thinking about how far my mom and I have come over the last few months. Distance helps. And a little clarity. I glance out the window at the house next door. I hope maybe the same will happen to us, too.
Dinner at the diner is fun. I get a greasy hamburger and fries. Claire shares more about herself, and the fact she’s been seeing a girl she met the prior summer when they both worked at a camp down on the lake. Her name is Bridget and she’s a freshman at Reno.
While she talks, I eat and I study the memorabilia hanging on the walls. It goes way back and there are a few photos of Lee Vines, including the lodge. “Hold up,” I say, getting up from the table and crossing the room. Over the antique juke box is a photo of a group of kids sitting outside the Wayward Sun—although it’s not a coffee shop. Probably back when it was a boarding house. The kids are around my age—teenagers—and although the color is faded, I make out fire-red hair similar to my own and a freckled nose. My mom.
I point her out.
“Your mom was smokin.’”
“Right? I love her style.”
“Do you talk to her a lot?” Claire asks when I get back to the table.
I shove a fry in my mouth. “Sometimes. I actually spoke to her today. She’s in Greece.”
“Wow. I’ve always wanted to go Europe.”
Me too, just not the way my mom wanted to do it. “She’s having a good time. It’s kind of a spiritual thing.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Lately, with everything going on, I kind of do. But before that, we really needed some space from one another.”
“And that’s why you ran away?” She takes a sip of her chocolate milkshake.
“I guess. It’s complicated.” I don’t mean to hide this from Claire, I just don’t really feel like going into it right now.
She nods and I don’t feel any judgement from her. “I bet. My mom would lose her shit if I got on a plane by myself and flew across the country. You’ve got balls, Starlee.”