George, of course, normally plays Santa’s elf.
All afternoon I’ve struggled with making a decision, one that becomes more concrete as the minutes pass. I’m going to call my mom. It may be time for me to go home.
I don’t want to do it, but if being away from the boys allows them to stay, then I’ll do it. I’ll go home. I’ll finish school and take that trip to Europe. Because I don’t know how to live next door to Dexter and Jake and go to school and face George in Art and Charlie in the hall and pretend like everything is normal. I love them. So much, and forced separation is worse than anything back home.
Once everything is set up and we’re waiting for the event to kick off, I sneak back to Leelee’s empty house and call my mom.
This time she answers.
“Starlee! What a surprise.” Her voice is friendly.
“Hi Mom, how was your Thanksgiving?”
“Actually, it was really good.”
I want to ask why. Did she spend it with someone? But her lack of admission makes it awkward to do so.
“Look, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“I want to talk to you, too.”
“Oh, you do?” This is new. “What’s going on?”
“Well, obviously when you left, I was very hurt. Not just hurt—angry—and that anger just really made me realize I’d gone somewhere in my life I didn’t like. So I started seeing a therapist and I started taking yoga, and meditating…and Starlee, I’m so sorry.”
That is unexpected. “For what?”
“Everything. Not listening to you. Not respecting you. The controlling behavior and my freak out when I pulled you out of school. I was overwhelmed and had no idea how to handle things. I focused everything on you when really, I needed help too.”
“Uh.” I’m speechless and overwhelmed by emotion myself. “Wow Mom, that’s just a lot.”
“It is a lot and I’m sorry for dumping it on you like this, but you were right. You needed space and frankly, I did, too.”
Space. Maybe the boys aren’t the only ones that needed it from me. Is that true? Am I toxic to the people in my life?
“I wanted to tell you that I’ve taken the plane ticket from our trip to Europe and moved up the date. I’m headed out on Monday and I’ll be gone for a while,” she laughs, “months, actually. I’m going on a full meditation trip. Eat, Pray, Love style.”
She’s leaving. I need to come home and she’s leaving. I want to break down and beg her to stay but I know I can’t. She sounds happy. Healthy.
“That sounds really amazing, Mom,” I say, trying to keep the deflation out of my voice. “I know you’ll have a great time.”
“Channeling my inner Nye vibe, you know?” Her voice softens. “Just like you. You’re so strong, Starlee, way more than I gave you credit for. Thank you for showing me that I could be strong, too.”
I don’t hold back the tears once she says that, but they’re a mixture of grief and relief and confusion. My mom talks a little more, thinking we’re making up and in a way, I guess we are. She just doesn’t know that I’m in pain and I don’t tell her. Not now.
“The tree lighting is starting in a minute,” I say, sucking back my emotions. “Leelee needs me to do a few things.”
“Oh, I love the tree lighting.” She pauses. “Here’s a little tip from back in the day—check out the path behind the RV park. It leads up to an overlook. Best view of the town.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Love you, Star.”
“Love you, too.”
My heart contracts and expands, this whole day dragging it through the ringer.
I try to be present for Leelee but by the time the carolers from the elementary school show up I can’t take much more of it, and I zip my coat and walk down the road, away from the festivities. I need some space—something hard to find in Lee Vines, despite the wide skies, but I follow my mother’s suggestion and hike up the little trail that looks over the town. It leads to the large LV that’s etched into the side of the mountain with bleached rocks from the river.