Raven waited until almost everyone had left my mother\u2019s funeral before she came near me.<\/p>\n
I had spent the whole service pretending not to watch her. She stood at the back in a long black coat, silver rings catching the light along one eyebrow and her nose. I\u2019d seen her sitting at Mom\u2019s kitchen table every Saturday for months like she belonged there.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d never understood why.<\/p>\n
Now my mother was gone, and Raven was walking toward me with one hand closed around something.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaeve.\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned. Her eyes were swollen.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you for coming,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
She nodded, then opened her hand. A small brass key lay across her palm.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is that?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour mom told me to give you this only after she was gone.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at her. \u201cWhat does it open?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe said you\u2019d know when you found it.\u201d<\/p>\n
My chest tightened. \u201cWhy didn\u2019t she give it to me herself?\u201d<\/p>\n
Raven hesitated. \u201cMaybe because she knew you\u2019d put it somewhere safe and avoid finding out.\u201d<\/p>\n
That hit harder than it should have. \u201cYou don\u2019t know me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d she said. \u201cBut Doris did.\u201d<\/p>\n
For one ugly second, grief turned into anger. \u201cWhy did my mother trust you with this?\u201d<\/p>\n
Raven\u2019s expression softened. \u201cBecause I knew a part of her you didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
Before I could ask which part, my husband, Tom, appeared near the doors with my coat. Raven stepped back. \u201cDon\u2019t put it in a drawer.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then she left.<\/p>\n
I stood there with the key digging into my palm and one question I couldn\u2019t stop hearing: What had my mother been hiding from me?<\/i><\/p>\n
The first time I saw Raven, she was drinking tea from Mom\u2019s good china and sitting in my father\u2019s old chair.<\/p>\n
I stopped in the kitchen doorway with two grocery bags cutting into my fingers. \u201cMom?\u201d<\/p>\n
My mother, Doris, looked up. At 73, she was still happiest in that same little kitchen, with her garden outside and a book usually open somewhere nearby.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere you are, Maeve.\u201d<\/p>\n
The young woman beside her turned. She couldn\u2019t have been much older than 25. She wore black from neck to boots, tattoos covered both forearms, and several silver piercings caught the light when she moved.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is Raven,\u201d Mom said. \u201cShe\u2019s a friend.\u201d<\/p>\n
Raven stood. \u201cNice to meet you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou too.\u201d<\/p>\n
I set the groceries down, still looking at Dad\u2019s chair.<\/p>\n
Raven noticed. \u201cAm I sitting somewhere I shouldn\u2019t?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I said too quickly. \u201cIt\u2019s fine. So how do you two know each other?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe met over coffee,\u201d Mom said.<\/p>\n
\u201cAt the bookstore caf\u00e9,\u201d Raven added. \u201cShe told me I was reading a terrible book.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mom smiled. \u201cIt was terrible.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought I was spending the afternoon with you,\u201d I said, hearing the stiffness in my own voice.<\/p>\n
Mom\u2019s smile faded. \u201cWe can do that next Saturday.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re asking me to leave?\u201d<\/p>\n
Raven glanced between us. \u201cI can go.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d Mom said too quickly.<\/p>\n
That stung.<\/p>\n
I picked up my purse. \u201cMaeve,\u201d Mom said softly. \u201cI love you. But I don\u2019t need you to manage every part of my life.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSaturdays are usually ours.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
I glanced at Raven, then at Mom. \u201cRight. I\u2019ll get out of your way.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at the small wooden box beside Raven\u2019s elbow. Mom followed my eyes and quietly pulled a dish towel over it. That did nothing to make me feel better.<\/p>\n
\u201cFine,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Mom sighed. \u201cThere it is again.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat word you use when nothing is fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
I left before I said something I\u2019d regret.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe was there again,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
My husband, Tom, and I were sitting at the kitchen table together.<\/p>\n
Tom looked up. \u201cRaven?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTwo Saturdays in a row.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid your mom seem upset?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. That\u2019s almost what bothers me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy does that bother you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause she seemed happy. Comfortable.\u201d I wrapped both hands around my mug. \u201cAnd I still don\u2019t know who this girl is.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tom waited.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s 20-something, Tom. Mom barely knows her, and suddenly they\u2019re having private conversations every weekend.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you think Raven wants something from her?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know. Has Doris given you any reason to think she\u2019s being pressured?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tom leaned forward. \u201cThen what\u2019s really bothering you?\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared into my tea. \u201cI feel shut out.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause you\u2019re worried?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I\u2019m jealous,\u201d I admitted.<\/p>\n
Tom touched my hand. \u201cThen don\u2019t guess, Maeve. Pay attention.\u201d<\/p>\n
Raven kept returning, and soon Saturdays became theirs.<\/p>\n
Once, I arrived early and found birthday cards spread across Mom\u2019s table. She swept them into a box.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are those?\u201d I asked, stepping closer.<\/p>\n
\u201cOld things.\u201d<\/p>\n
I started cleaning my mother\u2019s kitchen, wiping down the counters where I always wiped them. Mom reached over and touched my wrist.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot everything needs to be yours to fix.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wasn\u2019t fixing anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
She gave me a tired smile. \u201cYou usually are.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then one Saturday, I forgot my phone at Mom\u2019s house. I went back an hour later through the side door and heard voices from the kitchen.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou tell me to call my mother every week,\u201d Raven said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen call your sister.\u201d<\/p>\n
I froze. She meant Aunt Elaine. Mom and Elaine hadn\u2019t spoken in 11 years.<\/p>\n
By then, I knew Mom had been pushing Raven to reconnect with her mother after an argument about Raven leaving college to become a tattoo artist. When my grandmother became ill, Mom handled most of her care and resented that Elaine, who lived farther away, wasn\u2019t there more. During one awful argument, Elaine told her, \u201cYou don\u2019t help people because you\u2019re generous. You help them so they owe you.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
Mom told her to leave. Their mother died soon after, and neither sister called again.<\/p>\n
Now, standing outside the kitchen, I heard Raven say, \u201cYou ask me every Saturday if I\u2019ve called my mom.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know,\u201d Mom said.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why haven\u2019t you called your sister?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s different.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n
Mom sighed. \u201cIt just is.\u201d<\/p>\n
Raven didn\u2019t let her escape that easily. \u201cHave you ever tried to fix it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOnce.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI picked up the phone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd called Elaine?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Raven paused. \u201cSo you just picked up a phone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd I put it down again.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not exactly taking your own advice.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mom gave a short laugh. \u201cNo. It isn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
Raven\u2019s voice softened. \u201cThen why keep telling me to call my mother?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause you can be right, or you can have family, Raven. Sometimes you don\u2019t get both.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s rich.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
My hand was already on the kitchen door. I could\u2019ve walked in. I could\u2019ve said Elaine\u2019s name and forced the conversation into the open. Instead, I backed away.<\/p>\n
That night, I typed into my phone: I saw Mom today. I think she misses you.<\/i><\/p>\n
I stared at the message until the screen dimmed. Then I deleted it.<\/p>\n
Two months later, Mom had a stroke.<\/p>\n
Tom met me outside her hospital room after the doctor left. \u201cMaeve?\u201d<\/p>\n
He pulled me against him, and for one stupid second, I reached for my phone. I need to call Mom.<\/i> Then I remembered. I stepped back and opened my contacts. I have to call Elaine.<\/i><\/p>\n
Tom squeezed my hand.<\/p>\n
Elaine answered on the fifth ring. \u201cMaeve?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMom died this morning.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence. Then, \u201cOh, God.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe funeral\u2019s Friday.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t think I can come.\u201d<\/p>\n
Normally, I would\u2019ve said I understood just to end the discomfort. Instead, I gripped the phone. \u201cI want you there.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI can\u2019t promise that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen don\u2019t promise. Just think about it.\u201d<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t come.<\/p>\n
That night, I stood at my desk with the key over the drawer. Tom watched me. \u201cYou\u2019re putting it away?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut what changed?\u201d<\/p>\n
I closed my hand around it. \u201cI\u2019m done just keeping things safe, Tom. I need answers.\u201d<\/p>\n
We drove to Mom\u2019s house. After checking her desk and sewing cabinet, I went upstairs. Behind a stack of blankets in her closet sat a wooden box. The key turned.<\/p>\n
Inside were dozens of envelopes, all addressed to Elaine.<\/p>\n
Tom picked one up. \u201cEleven years\u2019 worth of them?\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded. \u201cShe never sent them.\u201d<\/p>\n
My phone was already in my hand. I called Elaine before I could talk myself out of it. When she answered, I said, \u201cI found something Mom spent 11 years hiding from both of us.\u201d<\/p>\n
Elaine came the next afternoon. Tom opened the door, greeted her briefly, then left us alone. I led her upstairs.<\/p>\n
She stopped in Mom\u2019s bedroom when she saw the envelopes spread across the bed. \u201cYou found those?\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned. \u201cYou knew about them?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot those.\u201d She stepped closer and picked up one birthday card. \u201cI have a box too.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at her. \u201cA box of what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLetters to your mother. Birthday cards. Christmas cards. Things I wrote and never mailed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
Elaine looked down at the envelope in her hand. \u201cBecause every time I finished one, I imagined Doris sending it back unopened.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo both of you spent 11 years writing to each other without actually speaking.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her mouth tightened. \u201cApparently.\u201d<\/p>\n
I started arranging the cards by year. Elaine watched my hands. She set the card down.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you remember my call five years ago? On your mother\u2019s birthday?\u201d<\/p>\n
My stomach tightened. \u201cYou asked how she was.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI asked whether she ever talked about me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I already knew where this was going. \u201cWhat did you tell me, Maeve?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at her. \u201cNot really.\u201d<\/p>\n
Elaine\u2019s eyes filled. \u201cDo you know what I heard?\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cI heard that my sister had moved on.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAunt Elaine\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWas it true?\u201d<\/p>\n
That was the question I couldn\u2019t smooth over. \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
She went still. Mom had talked about her often. Once, she\u2019d held up a blue sweater and said, \u201cElaine would wear this until the sleeves fell off.\u201d<\/p>\n
Elaine swallowed. \u201cSo when I asked if she mentioned me\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI gave you the easiest answer.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I was tired of being in the middle.\u201d<\/p>\n
Elaine\u2019s face hardened. \u201cI wasn\u2019t asking you to fix us, Maeve.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know that now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou let me believe she was done with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI did.\u201d<\/p>\n
She stared at the cards. \u201cI need to go.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAunt Elaine\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot now.\u201d<\/p>\n
She walked out before I could stop her.<\/p>\n
I sat alone on Mom\u2019s bed for a long time. When I finally started putting the envelopes back into the box, I found one wedged beneath the lining. It was sealed. Elaine\u2019s name was written across the front in Mom\u2019s handwriting.<\/p>\n
I turned it over once. I could\u2019ve opened it. I didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n
That night, I asked Raven to come over. She sat at Mom\u2019s kitchen table in the same chair where I\u2019d first seen her.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow did you two really become friends?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe insulted the book I was reading.\u201d<\/p>\n
Despite myself, I smiled. \u201cThat sounds like her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe started talking. I told her my mom and I weren\u2019t speaking. She told me about Elaine.\u201d<\/p>\n
Raven\u2019s smile faded. \u201cSo she pushed you to call your mom?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEvery Saturday.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you pushed her to call Elaine.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked down at my hands. \u201cWhy didn\u2019t she tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n
Raven hesitated. \u201cShe was embarrassed. You\u2019d been telling her for years to call Elaine. Then I said the same thing, and suddenly she wanted to try.\u201d<\/p>\n
She leaned forward. \u201cMaeve, she didn\u2019t choose me over you. It was just easier to admit she was scared to someone who hadn\u2019t watched her refuse for years.\u201d<\/p>\n
I let that settle.<\/p>\n
The next morning, I drove to Elaine\u2019s house with Mom\u2019s sealed card in my purse.<\/p>\n
When she opened the door, her face tightened. \u201cI told you I needed time.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why are you here?\u201d<\/p>\n
I held out the envelope. \u201cI found this after you left.\u201d<\/p>\n
Elaine stared at her name on the front. \u201cDid you read it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her eyes lifted to mine. \u201cThere\u2019s nothing left to fix, Maeve.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. There isn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
She frowned. \u201cThen what do you want from me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing.\u201d<\/p>\n
That surprised her.<\/p>\n
\u201cI came because I need to say something without making excuses,\u201d I said. My throat tightened. \u201cFive years ago, when you asked whether Mom talked about you, I knew she did. I knew she missed you. And I gave you the easiest answer because I didn\u2019t want to deal with what came next.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you lied. You let me think she didn\u2019t care.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Anger flashed across her face, but I didn\u2019t defend myself. I didn\u2019t change the subject. I didn\u2019t leave.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not asking you to forgive me,\u201d I said. \u201cBut I\u2019m done pretending silence doesn\u2019t cost anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
I placed the envelope on the table beside her door. \u201cThis belongs to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then I walked away before I could tell her what to do with it.<\/p>\n
Three weeks later, Elaine sat across from me at Mom\u2019s kitchen table. The wooden box rested beside her chair.<\/p>\n
\u201cI read the card,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe said she\u2019d spent years waiting until she knew exactly what to say.\u201d Elaine looked down at her coffee. \u201cThen she wrote that maybe waiting was the problem.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat else did she say?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe missed me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I reached for Elaine\u2019s hand, then stopped before touching it. \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded. \u201cI wrote almost the same thing last year.\u201d<\/p>\n
Raven texted that evening: I finally called my mom. Dinner tomorrow. Wish me luck.<\/i><\/p>\n
I smiled, then set my phone down.<\/p>\n
Elaine turned one of Mom\u2019s old cards between her fingers. \u201cI don\u2019t know what happens with us now,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cNeither do I. But I\u2019d like to see you again, if you\u2019ll let me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Elaine looked at me. \u201cNo pressure?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI think I\u2019ve done enough of that in my own way.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her expression softened. Elaine reached for her coffee. \u201cCall me next week.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI will.\u201d<\/p>\n
And for once, I was ready to work on myself instead of trying to fix everyone else.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Raven waited until almost everyone had left my mother\u2019s funeral before she came near me. I had spent the whole service pretending not to watch her. She stood at the back in a long black coat, silver rings catching the light along one eyebrow and her nose. I\u2019d seen her sitting at Mom\u2019s kitchen table…<\/p>\n