Late that night, after Tami had fallen asleep, Jolene opened her laptop. She was so tired, she had trouble keeping her eyes open, but she had to write to her daughter.
Dear Betsy:
I’m so sorry I can’t help you with your detention. You won’t want to hear what I have to say about it, either. The bottom line is that you broke the rules. There’s always a consequence for our actions. You might as well learn that early. Of course Sierra and Zoe are wrong to have goaded you and mean to have made fun of you. But how you respond is what will make you who you are.
I have so many things to say about that, and it kills me that we aren’t together. Mothers and daughters are supposed to curl up on the couch and talk about anything and everything. And we will soon. You’ll see. Until then, I wish I knew how to tell you how to get through the tough times in middle school. I know so much about mean girls.
When I was your age, no one liked me. I was always the girl with the ratty clothes and no lunch money. I was too ashamed to invite anyone home, so I didn’t make friends. It was terrible. Lonely. I don’t want that for you.
I know how it feels to be ignored and teased. So I ignored those girls right back, and it just made me feel bad about myself.
You know what helped? Joining the Army, and not because they taught me to fly (or not only because of that), but because that’s where I met Tami.
I was afraid to talk to her in the beginning. She was so confident. She didn’t seem to care that we were the only women in flight school. For the whole first week, I ignored her because I figured she wouldn’t like me. And you know what?
She was WAITING for me to talk to her.
That’s when I learned how much one smile can matter. Let people know you’re ready to be their friend, and if they give you a chance, take it—don’t be afraid. With Tami, all I had to do was find the courage to say hi, to sit by her in the mess hall. You never know when a sentence, a hello, can change your life.
I wish I were there to tell you how beautiful and smart and talented you are, but for now, these words on a blue screen will have to do it. Be strong, Betsy. Believe in yourself and you’ll be okay.
I love you to the moon and back.
It wasn’t enough. Not nearly. But it was all there was, all she could say from here.
Tomorrow, she’d write to Lulu.
She yawned and hit Send.
* * *
On the last Thursday in May, Michael woke early and got breakfast ready. He thought that if he could just get ahead of the curve, get a smooth schedule going with the girls, he would be okay. Ever since Jolene’s departure, he’d been running behind—late to meetings, late for the ferry, late for dinner. Something was always going wrong. Today, he was determined to have a nice, peaceful morning.
He knew he’d wasted his time when Betsy came into the kitchen wearing more makeup than a Vegas showgirl.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he said, putting down his paper.
Betsy turned her back on him. “What?” she said, opening the fridge.
“You are not wearing that makeup to school. ”
She faced him. “What makeup?”
“I wear reading glasses, Bets. I’m not blind. Go wash your face. ”
“Or what?”
“Or…” He narrowed his gaze. “I’ll offer to volunteer in your class today. Social studies. Aren’t you guys reading the Constitution?”
“You wouldn’t. ”
“Try me. ”
She stared at him a long minute, then stomped her foot and marched out of the room. When she returned, she was a real pain in the ass, slamming cabinet doors, muttering under her breath, being mean to Lulu, who cried through most of breakfast and kept asking when Mommy was coming back.
At work, he spent the day catching up on all the work he’d missed in the past few weeks, but there was too much. Between managing the firm and defending his clients, he was overworked, plain and simple. Now, he was dictating a discovery request for Keith Keller’s military record. Something he should have done weeks ago.
He buzzed his secretary. “Ann? Have we heard anything from Keith Keller?”