Page 88 of Canadian Boyfriend

I was not feeling great the next day, so my defenses were down when my mom found the box of shoes.

“Honey, are these Aurora’s shoes?” she asked, coming up from the basement to join me in the dining room. “I’m going to put them by her door.”

Shit. I had gotten them out last night after I’d checked on Aurora. I didn’t even know why. Well, I did know why. In my drunken state, I think I wanted to test myself. To see how I felt when I looked at them. To see if I feltguiltywhen I looked at them, after my little cuddle with Aurora.

Which was ridiculous because nothing was happening with Aurora. She’d said we had to knock off the fling stuff, so we’d knocked off the fling stuff. Now we were friends. End of story.

“Those are Sarah’s shoes.”

Mom’s eyebrows flew up, and she reversed course and sat with me.

I wasn’t going to get out of this without coming clean—I never could get anything past my mother. “I got rid of most of Sarah’s stuff last summer. You remember—you helped with some of it.”

“Of course.”

I sighed. How to explain when I could hardly make sense of it myself? “The shoes in that box were in the entryway for a long time. I didn’t want to move them, but I also hated looking at them.” I left out the stuff about the void—the big one and the little pinprick ones I used to have inside me. “Eventually, I moved them to the closet in our—my—bedroom.” I paused. “I don’t want them in the house anymore, but I also don’t want to throw them away or give them away, which I realize makes no sense.” They were just shoes. But also, they weren’t. For better or worse, I’d assigned symbolic value to them. “So I brought them here.” I’d stashed the box behind the sofa I was sleeping on, but apparently Mom had found them. “I was going to… leave them in the closet in my room.” I just hadn’t done it yet. I hadn’t wanted to intrude on Aurora’s space.Excuse me, I just need to stick my dead wife’s shoes in the closet, then I’ll be out of your way.

“I think that sounds like a fine idea.”

“You do?” And here I thought it sounded like a nonsensical idea.

“You have to move on. It doesn’t mean you forget, but you have to move on.”

“I know. I am.”

She smiled. “She’s lovely.”

Huh? “Who’s lovely?”

“Aurora.”

“Oh, no, we’re just friends.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, mister. I saw you coming out of her room last night.”

Oh shit. “I was just checking on her.”And stroking her hair like a deranged creeper.“I… wanted to make sure she was OK before I went to bed.”

She stood as Olivia came strolling in in her pajamas. “That, my love, makes my point even more forcefully.”

“Morning, Liv.” I was glad for the interruption so I didn’t have to defend myself against my mother and her confusing logic anymore.

“I don’t want to go camping,” Olivia said.

Oh, for God’s sake. “What? Why?”

“I want to stay here and help Nana with the day care.”

My mind flashed back to last winter, when she hadn’t wanted to come to any of my home games. She’d been doing so much better on the grief front, but as I well knew, navigating grief was not a linear process. “Is this about your mom?” Last time we’d gone camping had been with Sarah.

“No, I just think camping is stupid and boring, and I don’t want to go,” she said matter-of-factly.

I closed my eyes. I’d been prepared to rally, to fight off my hangover, if Olivia was suffering, but not if she was just being a brat.

“Why don’t you and Aurora go, and we’ll keep Olivia—lucky us,” my mom said.

I opened my eyes, and when my mom put her hand on my shoulder and whispered, “It’s OK,” I knew she was talking about more than keeping Olivia while I went camping.

Of course, Aurora chose that moment to appear, completing my destabilization. I decided to finish off with Olivia first. “Yeah, OK, Liv. Fine.”

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