Page 80 of The Lookback

I hardly need my mother’s approval, but I’m a little surprised. Didn’t Abby say she was excited?

“Mom,” Abby says. “What on earth are you saying?”

“Your sister was the top of her field. She wasremarkable.” She sighs. “And now you’re telling me that she’s being well and truly shackled. That stupid ring David gave you was prophetic.”

“I mean, it was an engagement ring,” Abby says. “You can’t really be that shocked that she’s actually getting married.”

Mom leans over and runs her hand down the side of the black gown that’s hanging from the fireplace mantle. “Please tell me this is the wedding dress.” Mom’s smirk irritates me.

“Yes,” Abby says.

“No,” I say. It was going to be, until Mom looked at it like it was the perfect gown—a symbol of how our marriage is doomed.

“No?” Abby and Mom say in tandem.

“We’re going shopping for the most beautiful white wedding dress you’ve ever seen. And I’m going to be the most stunning, classic, savagely happy bride you have ever seen.” I cross my arms. “David isn’t shackling me. He’s made me happier than I’ve ever been. The ring was a joke, because he gets me.” I can’t help muttering, “Unlike you.”

“The next thing I hear, you’ll be telling me you’re having a petri dish set of triplets or something equally ridiculous,” Mom says. “Mark my words. If you go through with this, you’ll regret it, and then the divorce will just waste even more time and resources.”

“I actually am pregnant, Mom, and it took that to wake me up. You and I can think whatever we want, but being the top of my field never made me as happy as Abby is when she holds her little baby or when she cheers for her daughters on horses.”

Mom steps closer. “But you’re not like Abby, are you? You’re like me, and holding a baby never made me happy.”

Her words lodge in my chest like a sword through the heart. Is she right? What if she’s right? What if I have this baby and I resent it? What if it ruins my life, and I spend the next few years slogging my way through a horrible divorce? Great people become harpies in divorces, and I’m not that great to begin with.

Abby’s usually the kind one. She’s usually the sister who smooths things over, who bakes cookies, and who holds and calms a distressed child.

But not right now.

No, right now, she’s holding a rolled-up fashion magazine and brandishing it like it’s an iron spike-studded club. “Get out, or I swear I will beat you to death with this oversized special edition of The Knot, and there’s no judge on earth that will convict me, because you’re the worst kind of mother.” She steps toward Mom.

Mom backs up, eyeing the magazine as if she’s not sure whether Abby’s serious.

“I mean it.” Abby takes another step. “You said yourself that you’ve been a terrible mom, and it’s true. We don’t mind you coming around sometimes, because it’s not like you left us in a box on the steps of an orphanage or something, but you willnotfill Helen’s beautiful brain with your toxic filth. So if you can’t keep your garbage mouth shut, then get out and don’t come back.”

Mom blinks.

“And I won’t call you so you can talk to Nathan or send you more videos, either.” Abby’s eyes are flashing. She looks like that scene when Maleficent transforms into the dragon, ready to strike with righteous indignance and razor sharp. . .magazine pages.

“She can stay,” I say, fighting back tears.

Abby turns her stony glare on me. “And you.” She shakes her head. “Not a single word of that was true. You took care of me when she didn’t, and you always made me feel loved. You’re not broken like that.” She shakes the magazine at me. “Delete all that crap from your brain right now.”

That’s it. Now I’m crying.

The stupid baby has already broken me.

“Oh, no.” Abby drops the magazine and falls to her knees to hug me.

“I should go,” Mom says.

Abby doesn’t turn to stop her. She doesn’t say a word.

“Wait,” I say. “It’s fine.”

Abby shoots to her feet. “No, it’s not fine.” She has relinquished her grasp on the club, its brightly colored pages now fanned out across the floor, but she still looks more than ready for a fight. “You can stay. . .if you apologize.”

My sister is delusional if she thinks?—

---