“What happened with Austin?” I asked.
“Leukemia,” she said. “He was four. He’s seven now, still in maintenance chemo. But the kid is amazing, minus being an asshole to the twins. I had this aha moment during a playdate we forced Austin into. My husband and I were trying to deliver as much ‘normal’ as possible.”
“My parents went the opposite route,” I said wryly.
“I remember it. Your poor mom would stick her head in your bedroom door every fifteen minutes when we were there. I thought it was over-the-top smothering at the time. But now?” She blew out a breath. “I don’t know how she was able to restrain herself. I thought we were going to lose him. And for a few minutes, your mom really did lose you.”
“Well, I’m glad your son is doing better,” I said, feeling all kinds of awkward.
“With the help of his friends. He and his two best friends were outside throwing rocks into the creek. Something upset him and Austin had a pretty epic fit. Called them names. Toldthem he didn’t want to play with them anymore. And you know what they did?”
“Started throwing rocks at each other?”
Angie grinned and shook her head. Her eyes glistened. “Those little doofuses hugged him.” A tear slipped free and slid down her cheek. She wiped it away hastily. “They told him that it was okay that he was feeling bad and that they were going to be his friend no matter how bad he felt.”
I felt a stinging in my eyeballs. “Well, crap.”
“Ugh. I know, right? You wouldn’t think little boys would have more emotional maturity than teen girls, but they did.” Angie swiped away another tear. “Anyway, that was a turning point for Austin. He stopped fighting his treatments so hard. His temper tantrums got fewer and farther between. And he started enjoying ‘normal’ again. That’s when I realized how badly we’d messed up that turning point for you. We didn’t dig in. We didn’t accept the bad and we weren’t patient enough to wait for the good to come back. And for that, I’m so very sorry. What happened to you wasn’t fair and neither was how we handled it. But because of you, I was able to be a better mom to my son when he needed me the most.”
I couldn’t blink, because if I did, the hot tears would escape and wreak havoc on my kick-ass eyeliner.
“Wow,” I managed.
Angie dug a wad of tissues out of her mom purse. “Here,” she said, offering me half of it.
“Thanks.” I took it and dabbed at my eyes.
“Well, I didn’t expect to be doing this tonight,” she said with a sniffly laugh.
“Me neither.” I blew my nose and took a swig of wine.
A handsome ginger guy in a ball cap strode up. “Hey, babe, the boys conned me into—oh shit.” He looked at Angie, then tome, then back to Angie. “Is this an I-need-a-hug-and-alcohol-right-now moment or a funnel-cake-will-fix-it moment?”
Angie let out a soggy laugh. “Definitely funnel cake.”
“I’m on it,” he said, pointing at her with both hands. “I love you. You’re beautiful. And me and the boys are so lucky to have you.”
“Extra powdered sugar,” Angie called after him. She turned back to me. “That was my husband. He’s pretty great.”
“I guessed.”
“Can I give you a hug now? Or I guess, more accurately, can you give me a hug?” she asked.
I hesitated for the briefest of seconds and then decided. “Yeah.”
I opened my arms and she walked right into them. It was weird how not weird it felt to be hugging an old friend who I’d thought I’d lost. Dozens of memories of better times surfaced and I realized how deep I must have buried them.
“Hey, Lina! Get your ass over here. We need you in the photo booth,” Sloane shouted from the sidewalk. She was dressed as Robin Hood, and the long feather in her green felt cap was already broken.
“Hurry up before my fingers get frostbite,” Naomi called, wiggling a boozy milkshake at me. She was dressed asPride and Prejudice’s Elizabeth Bennet in an empire-waist gown with some impressive cleavage.
“Or before we bring all the boys to the yard,” Sloane added.
On cue, Harvey the biker raced up to them and started dancing.
I laughed and released Angie. “I’d better go.”
“Yeah, me too. Who knows what the twins conned my husband into.”