Today's going to be a bit of a write-off when it comes to emotionally reconnecting. Mom was asleep on the couch when I got back with her groceries so I turned on parent mode, a setting I didn't know I have, and I tidied the house. Put everything away and washed the dishes and got rid of the trash and the recycling; made her bed and did her laundry and cooked a chili for the freezer. All that while she slept off her hangover for a couple hours, and then woke up groggy and disoriented at five o'clock. I ran her a bath and now, while she soaks, I text my brothers in the kids-only group chat.

Hey guys, I'm with mom in SD at the moment and she's really struggling with the separation & being in a new place. I know it's a lot to ask and you're all busy and far away but if you can come see her (or even just call!) I think she'd really appreciate it.

Cole sees it instantly. A few minutes later, he says, hey little. How come you're in SD? Have you left Fisher? I'm swamped at the moment but I'll be in Minneapolis on the 29th & 30th then I've got a couple extra days off before the labor day weekend, so I can def swing by mom's place before i have to be back in NJ

Thank you!! I'll let her know, she'll be stoked to see you. Im only here for a couple days, she called me yesterday drunk & crying so i flew out. Kinda freaked the fuck out tbh, I say. I'm sprawled out on the upstairs landing, keeping an ear out for Mom. I don't think she's at risk of falling asleep and slipping under the water, but I'm primed to run into the bathroom if I hear splashing or choking.

What the fuck!! Emmett texts. What's going on?

She's super sad and lonely, I say. She misses us. I mean think about it she and dad were together for like 35 years and he just upped and left. She's in a bad place.

Shit. my classes start up on monday, i'll have a look at flights, i might be able to come this weekend? he says. He's in Spokane, it'll be as much of a hassle for him as it was for me. Mom could've at least chosen to spiral in a city with better domestic flight links. Everything seems to connect in Denver; this would be so much easier if she'd moved there instead.

Thanks em, I say. I feel like a shepherd, herding up my brothers and guiding them home.

It's ten minutes before my cell buzzes again. This time it's Nolan: im free til the 28th but i kind of have a cash flow issue?? Like i could get on a plane but i'd have to be hiding in someone's bag

Mood. Nolan and I are one and the same, except he's a college student. He's expected to be broke. I wait, hoping one of the others will take the bait.

Dw about that I'll get your ticket, Cole says. Ding ding ding. We have a catch. Lmk when you're free, I can book you a flight.

Uhhhh ok lemme think, Nolan says. The chat goes quiet for a few minutes and then he's back. Ok I have a party Saturday so i need sunday to recover lol but i can do monday to sunday? I could kinda do with a week with mom tbh i have like NO food money

Didn't you work all summer? Emmett texts.

Yeah whats ur point, Nolan says.

Grayson's the only one yet to respond, but he's always the slowest. He spends half his life out in the middle of the wilderness in Big Sky, where he works as a mountain guide with his finger in several pies. In the winter, he's a ski instructor and in the summer, he's a mountaineer, an expert in leading hiking groups and mountain bikers. His cell service is shockingly bad and unlike the others, he has a wife, someone else to take into consideration when it comes to dropping everything to run to South Dakota. He might have some time, though, with the summer season winding down.

Ok this is great, thanks guys, I say. I'm here til Saturday morning so em if you can do this weekend lmk

He sends a thumbs up and then he says, booked my flight, i'll be there lunchtime on saturday

He sends a screenshot of his confirmation, and then Cole does the same. One for him; one for Nolan. Mom won't be alone for the next nine days at least, and Cole will be here the week after that. I sag against the wall. In twenty minutes I've managed to wrangle three of my brothers into coming here. I only wish Mom would've asked, that it hadn't gotten to this point. I wish she would have said something instead of vanishing and waiting until things imploded.

But then I guess I did the same thing. Not quite as dramatic, sure, but she's right. We're the same. When the going gets tough, we run.

"Mom?" I call out.

"Yes?"

"Are you still alive in there?"

"No, sorry, I'm your mom's ghost."

At least she's sounding better. "I spoke to the boys. Emmett's gonna come over on Saturday and stay the weekend. Nolan's got a week before classes start so he's gonna come on Monday and Cole'll be here for Labor Day weekend."

"What?" There's a splash, the sound of her getting out of the tub, and a moment later she's on the landing with a towel knotted around her body. She's looking a lot more human after a nap and a bath, her skin a better color and her eyes less red. "How did you manage that?"

I shrug and say, "I asked."

"Oh, Charlie." The corners of her mouth turn down and for a second I think I've done the wrong thing, but she holds out her arms and when I stand she pulls me into a damp hug. "Thank you," she says into my hair. She smells fresh and clean, the staleness of the last couple days washed off her. "You didn't have to do that, baby. But thank you."

"I don't think you should be alone right now," I say. "I'm only here until Saturday morning and I didn't want to leave you alone."

"You're only here until Saturday?"

"Mmhmm. Yeah, my friend's having a party Saturday night. My flight's at ten."

"Oh. Okay." I wait for her to question how I have friends in Fisher all of a sudden, but she doesn't. "I really appreciate you coming all the way out here, I hope you know that, hon."

"I know. Feeling any better?"

"Much."

"Good. I made dinner already, so we can eat whenever you want."

Mom smiles her tickled smile. "Since when were you such a domestic goddess?"

Desperate times, desperate measures. But I don't say that out loud.

*

"Can I ask you a question?" The temperature has dropped down to seventy degrees so we're eating my chili, which turned out better than expected, under the shade of a tree in Mom's garden. It's getting late, after eight already, and I'm shattered after a long ass day.

"Sure, hon."

"What happened?"

"Hmm?"

"With, um, with you and Dad. What actually happened?" I don't want to upset her but I can't not know. Ignorance is not bliss.

Mom puts her fork down and stares into the distance behind me. "I don't know."

"How?"

"I guess things changed and I didn't notice," she says, shaking her head. "I didn't see it coming. There wasn't some big scandal or anything, if that's what you're thinking. At least, not that I know of. Nobody cheated. Nobody committed a crime."

"How can it just fall apart, though? You guys seemed happy. And then, boom. You're separating. You're getting a divorce. You're both getting the hell out of Butte like it burned you."

"Trust me, Charlie, I wish I knew."

"But how can you not know? How can you get divorced and not know why? How can you throw away thirty-five years with someone and not even have a reason?"

"If it was up to me, I wouldn't," she says. "I promise you, Charlie, I'm not hiding anything from you — it's like one day I woke up and your father didn't love me anymore and it's been a fucking nightmare ever since, okay? I didn't choose this. And i don't know if he's having a delayed midlife crisis or, fuck, I don't know, maybe he did meet someone else, but I. Don't. Know." Her eyes are wet. She's blinking fast and stabbing her fork too hard into her chili, a horrible clash of metal on ceramic. "I still love him. Nothing ever changed on my end. Hank is the love of my life."

My throat tightens. I shouldn't have pushed because I can't bear to see her upset. "I'm sorry."

"I wish I could answer your questions the way you want me to, baby. I know this would be easier if something had happened, but nothing did, except we found ourselves without any of you kids in the house for the first time in twenty-seven years and I guess we'd forgotten how to be around each other." Her eyes are on her plate, moving her food around before taking a mouthful and chewing slowly. "I wanted to work on it. Your father didn't. He said..."

She trails off, covering her mouth, and at first I think it's because she's chewing, but then she screws up her eyes, her nose wrinkling, and she lets out a wretched sob that chills me. "He said that we mistook comfort for love. That obviously things had been over for a long time and he couldn't do it anymore, that we didn't need to keep up the act now that you guys were all grown up." Her hand goes to her chest, splayed over her heart, a tear rolling down her cheek and splashing onto her plate. "I wasn't acting. I didn't know he was."

My voice is hoarse when I say, "Oh, god, I'm so sorry, Mom. I'm so fucking sorry." I drag my seat around to her side of the table and I wrap her in the tightest hug. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I've cried every day since April," she says.

A one-two punch to the gut. "That's really fucking sad."

"So am I." She pulls away, and this time she's wearing a smile. It's a weak, watery one, a terrible attempt at masking her emotions.

"Sorry." We fall into quiet, only the sound of cutlery on crockery, food between teeth. I can't take it much longer before I say, "Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Why Rapid City?" I ask. "Why'd you leave?"

"I couldn't stay there. I just couldn't. And someone I used to work with moved here a few years back, so I got in touch. They had an opening. It seemed like fate."

"It's so random."

"I know."

"Do you miss Montana?"

"Every damn day."

"Would you ever go back?"

"I don't know, honey. Maybe." She leans back, pushing her hands through her hair. Ever since she started going gray, she's kept on top of it but she's let it slide recently, strands of silver interspersed with the mousy brown we share. "I figure I can stick it out here another couple years, until I'm sixty. Then, I don't know, maybe it's time to pack it in."

"What, like retirement?"

"Maybe. We'll see." She straightens her back and says, "It's my turn to ask questions. And I've been honest with you, so can you be honest with me?"

"Sure." I pull my heels up onto the edge of my chair, arms wrapped around my legs.

"Why are you still in Fisher? I thought you were just going for a break, right? To clear your head? But it's been nearly three weeks and you're going back." She takes her last mouthful and uses half a slice of buttered bread to wipe her plate clean.

"I met someone."

"Oh yeah? What, like, a girlfriend?"

"Yeah."

Mom's eyebrows shoot up. "Wow. That's fast."

"You know me." I tap my heart, my silly, easily-bruised little heart. Mom's smile is a sad one. I got my heart from her.

"I do." She rests her elbows on the table and clasps her hands. "Who is she?"

Here goes. I pull in a deep breath through my nose. "You know Lou? Who I've been staying with?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Her. We're together."

Mom's eyebrows shoot even higher, if that's possible. "Oh. Oh. I didn't know she was..."

"Yeah, she's bi."

"Wow. Well, good for you, honey," she says, and I can tell there's something she's not saying, but I don't want to push it. Don't want to ruin the moment again. So I just say, "Thank you," and I finish my chili. But I guess I don't have to push it because Mom continues anyway.

"So, what, you're staying there now? With Lou?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I guess we're just seeing how things go."

"Hmm."

Ugh. I hate that hmm.

"Doesn't she have a daughter your age?"

"No, Issy's a freshman in college." About to be a sophomore. I don't bother correcting myself.

"What about work?"

"I'm kind of between jobs right now. I sent in a whole bunch of applications — literally every job going in Austin and here — but I've had nothing but rejections, so, yeah. For now, I'm living with Lou."

"You applied for work here? When?"

"Couple weeks ago, after we talked. I thought it might be a sign from the universe if I could get a job here, that it'd mean I'm supposed to move in with you, but I never got a single interview."

"So you are considering moving here."

"I was. I figured I could save money if I worked here and lived with you, but it didn't work out and now I'm with Lou, so I don't really want to leave Fisher. I love her."

I haven't said that to Lou yet, but it slips off my tongue to my mother.

"You didn't mention you'd started looking for work," Mom says, gathering her hair at the nape of her neck. "You should've said! We're looking for a legal secretary. You could do it standing on your head, baby. The money's okay, the benefits are great, and you'd be here with me. I can arrange an interview with HR but I bet they'd take you on."

Nausea hits.

Living with my mom. Working at her law firm.

It's everything I've been searching for: security; stability; responsibility. But it feels like a step backwards. Moving in with my mom, moving back to a city.

"It'd be perfect, hon," she says, putting her hand over mine. "You can't float around jobless in Idaho forever."

I know that. That's the fear lingering behind most of my anxiety. I did apply for every job in Rapid City. But does that mean I actually want to move here, or did I only do it to feel like I did something? I'm not even sure anymore, because here's a job being handed to me on a silver platter and I don't want it.

"I'll think about it," I say, my go-to phrase when I don't want to keep talking about something. It's a pacifier. But Mom is not pacified.

"What is there to think about?"

"Um, my girlfriend?" I laugh and hug my legs tighter. "I don't do long distance."

"Baby." She squeezes my hand. "Do you really want to bank your future on the possibility of something with someone you've known for a couple weeks?"

More of those knife-sharp words. I wince, leaning away from her.

"I don't want to rain on your parade, honey, you know I don't, but you're good at getting your heart broken and I wouldn't wish that pain on anyone, especially not my baby girl."

I hold back any response because I know it will come out meaner than I intend it to. I'm starting to wish I hadn't come here but I know Mom is hurting. Her heartbreak is a raw, gaping wound. In her eyes, mine is an inevitability.

"What happens if you decide you want to stay there and things don't work out? And then you're stuck in the middle of nowhere with no money. You can't make big decisions like this, hon. And Lou is lovely, I know, but she's so much older than you. She has an adult daughter. Is that something you want to get involved in?"

"Jeez, Mom, way to cut me down," I say, gritting my teeth and pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth to stop the tears that well up. I am not a crier, I am not going to cry over my mom judging my relationship. She's just hurting, I tell myself. Hurt people hurt people, right? Except I don't think she's trying to hurt me.

"I'm just trying to give you a reality check, because I'm giving you an opportunity and you should make an informed decision. Are you and Lou on the same page? Is this something long-term, or is it just a summer romance?"

It was easier when she was drunk and sad. I hate that she is giving a voice to my insecurities, all the things that rush around my head at night and try to make me doubt myself.

"I don't know, Mom. We're seeing how things go. That's good enough for me."

I wait. Seconds pass. And then, yes, there it is.

"Hmm."

It takes everything in me not to shove my chair back and stomp inside. That would only give her ammunition if I act like a petulant child.

"I'm an adult, Mom," I say at last. "If I make bad decisions, they're mine to make. And if I get heartbroken, well, whoop-de-fucking-do. What's new? You can have your heart broken at any age. That's not a reason not to do something. Look at you. Would you go back and never marry Dad, because he waited a few decades to break your heart?"

"No, but it's different, honey."

"How?"

"We were together a long ti—"

"You didn't know that when you got together," I snap, cutting her off. "When you fell in love, you didn't know how long it would last or how it would end. You were twenty-four when you met Dad. For all you know, I could marry Lou."

"Okay. I'm sorry, Charlie. I'm just looking out for you."

"And I appreciate that."

"You don't sound like you do."

I focus on my lungs for a minute in an effort to regain my composure. "Sorry. I do appreciate that you're looking out for me, but the potential for things not to work out the way I want isn't a good enough reason not to do them. I love Lou. I only left her this morning and I miss her already. I want to make things work with her."

Mom says nothing for a while and I know that face, that heavy pause; I know when she is weighing up whether or not to say something, and I know that she's about to piss me off the second she opens her mouth. "If you're so sure of that," she says, "how come you applied to every job opening here and nothing there? Don't you think that on some level, you know that Fisher isn't forever? You needed a break. You had one. Perhaps it's time to come back to earth now."

I don't know what to say. I don't have anything to say. Her words sit heavy between us, waiting to be dissected. I leave them there.

Mom makes the first move. She finishes her glass of water and says, "I think I could do with an early night. Thanks for the chili. It was delicious." She stands, gathering our plates. "Let me know if you're interested in the job. I think it would be good for you and I'd love to have you here."

She goes inside. I stay out until the sun goes down, and for an hour after that. My mind was already a mess before I got here but now I can't even peel one thought from the next. My brain is gridlocked. I don't know what to do.

*

what would you do if you were charlie?