Aunt Sophie left on Sunday before church. Which, yay? She’d kept her own council about May and Carl breaching the family’s code of secrecy for me, but May had said she was in our corner with the Seniors and I’d grown accustomed to her caustic personality. But I was still glad to see her go (which I felt a little bad about since she was May’s aunt and had done so much for us and for May and her mom).

  I was especially glad she left before the disaster that was Sunday dinner, the dinner that, again, changed everything for me, if only inside.

  It was Don’s fault. And Angela’s. Instead of giving me the invitation card in Sister Edwards’ class, where I could have just folded it up and lost it later, the two of them confronted me with matching smiles outside the chapel before the service began to put it in my hands—with May and Carl there to witness it—and to say how much they really, really hoped I’d come.

  And what they hoped I’d come to was Saturday Bowling & Burgers at a landmark bowling alley and an old-fashioned burger and malt place in our gentrified City Center. A group-date event; those of us dating someone in our Sunday School class would come together and the rest of us were welcome to come solo but encouraged to bring a date or a friend. No adult supervision, not even Sister Edwards, but how much supervision could even a church group think you needed for bowling and burgers?

  The result was a conversational ambush at the dinner table. Since my Last Night of Freedom outing had gone so well—until the whole fellatio episode and I certainly wasn’t going to catch a repeat of that scene at a church outing (probably, we were still teens)—May just assumed I’d be going and even wondered teasingly if I’d be asking Brad to go with me. Or maybe Chet or Bret or Joe. . .

  Her speculations tapered off when she realized that I wasn’t reacting with awkward denial or protests; I was just sitting there.

  “She’s only teasing,” Carl said, giving her a look. “You don’t have to take a date. Just bowl a couple of games. Eat a burger. Get to know your Sunday school class outside of class.”

  I snorted. “And what would we even talk about? Chess? I sure don’t know the name of the latest Boy Band and it’s not like I have to see any of them outside of church.” May blinked, and okay, I might have put a bit too much sarcasm into it. Why had I said that?

  “But honey,” she said reasonably, “that makes it perfect. You can have fun and sharpen your social skills and any embarrassment isn’t going to follow you to school on Monday.”

  “Except it won’t be fun. I just— Friday night’s Movie Night. We haven’t . . . Can’t we do that?” And dammit, why did my voice waver just the tiniest bit? Why did I suddenly feel nauseous? And now she was looking at me with alarm and I couldn’t—

  I put my fork down. “May I be excused?” I said tightly.

  “Sweet— Of course, but I didn’t mean . . . Of course.”

  Wiping my mouth and dropping my napkin beside my plate, I stood up with a “Thank you,” and fast-walked out of the dining room. Making it upstairs to my room without running, I paced for long minutes before bolting into my bathroom to throw up.

  What the fuck? My hands shook as I flushed, dropping to the tiles beside the toilet. Holding my stomach, I waited to see if I was going to vomit again. Really, what the actual fuck? Why did I feel like my whole world was about to collapse and bury me under it?

  “Honey?” May knocked on the bathroom door, light raps. “Please let me in.”

  “I’ll go!” I gasped out without thinking. The knocking stopped.

  “Sweetheart, please open the door.”

  Nodding uselessly, I climbed to my feet, rinsed out my mouth and gargled mouthwash until the acid bile taste was gone, and splashed water on my cold pale face. Drying with my hand towel, I opened the unlocked bathroom door (she could have opened it any time but had just knocked, waiting permission) and stepped out.

  And was enveloped in a hug.

  We just stood there, my arms at my sides, May with one hand on my back to hold me close as she tucked my face against her neck, stroking the back of my head. “Are you alright?” she finally whispered in my ear. When I nodded against her shoulder she carefully pulled back, taking my hand to tug me over to sit beside her on my bed. Over the past month it really had become our Talking Place.

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  I wiped my wet face. Hadn’t I dried it? And why was she up here? This wasn’t how it was supposed to go after the scene downstairs.

  May didn’t say anything, just sitting there beside me holding my hand in both of hers in her lap until I relaxed to rest my head on her shoulder.

  “I said last night that I’m always here to talk it out,” she finally said softly. “Can you tell me what happened, honey?”

  I rubbed my chest like my heart hurt but the tight band around my breathing had loosened and now all I felt was tired and stupid. After the revelations of last Monday, things had been good. Against all expectation the first week of school had been good and things had been good at home. It had felt easy for all of us and I’d thought I’d found some sort of equilibrium, that even with all my new questions about the People I was at least providing minimal drama in their lives. But first last night, now this, when would they get tired of the maintenance? Realize this was a mistake? “I don’t know, I—” And then I did know. How had I forgotten? “Football.”

  “Mmhmm?” Her arm went around my shoulders. “Football?”

  I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about it. And the rest of it. “They never punished me. Or even yelled at me, not that I remember.” I closed my eyes. “But if I wanted something they disagreed with, or didn’t agree with what they wanted for me, they would just—” I swallowed, the tightness returning. “They always knew best.”

  Dinnertimes could get pretty cold, the three of us sitting around the table locked in a fight without words until my knotting gut forced me to apologize and give in.

  “You wanted to play football in high school,” May said slowly, knowing that much.

  I nodded against her shoulder. “Father wouldn’t accept a word out of me that wasn’t agreement that non-academics were a waste of my time.” He’d been a smart man, he’d always been able to make what he wanted for me or from me sound so reasonable. Make me feel so stupid and ungrateful for disagreeing. And Mother had always deferred to him.

  “And there were other things?”

  I nodded again. “I can’t really remember what over, now. Just, cold dinnertimes.” I’d made myself forget the cold dinnertimes. “They loved me.” It sounded weak even to me and her arm tightened around my shoulder.

  “God.” We sat for a long minute, then she took a deep breath. “And . . . tonight?”

  I straightened, twisting to look up at her. “You’re not like them. Not even a little bit, not at all.”

  She nodded, accepting that. “But?” she nudged me and I wondered if she’d uncovered, if she was feeling me now. She’d told me in our conversations that she really didn’t like to do it much, that most of the time it didn’t tell her anything that just watching someone’s face couldn’t tell her, that feeling other’s emotions was, honestly, mostly a burden. I wouldn’t want to feel me now, but feeling me could she tell me why I’d frozen? Why my stomach-churning panic? She sighed when I looked away, arm around me still tight. “I should have seen this,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “No!” I twisted back. “It’s not your fault, it’s me, I—”

  “Shush.” Her arm around me tightened. “Now that I won’t accept.” She sighed, smiling crookedly and taking my hand again. “It’s my fault. When I— When we found how you’d changed, I was so afraid for you. It was such a huge change. You’d already been— Every day seemed a fight for you before, and now, well, except for a few moments when you’ve let your feelings out you’ve been stiff-upper-lipping it like always. But you were so lost, it was so easy for me to see what you needed, what I thought you needed. And you went along with it, with everything.”

  She stopped my rising protest.

  “Oh, there were a few times when you pushed back, but you always came around to what I knew you needed to do, even came up with your own good reasons. It’s mostly been very easy, and I should have seen how wrong that was.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. She thought I was broken. Maybe I am.

  “No,” she said, intensely enough that my eyes snapped open and I looked up. “Whatever you’re thinking, no. This is not on you. Sweetheart. What do you want?”

  “This. To be yours.” It was such an easy question to answer, but I blinked at the beaming smile that lit her face. She squeezed me again but took a breath.

  “And you feel, because of them, that to be ours you need to agree, to be agreeable to what we think is best for you.” She had both arms around me now, practically pulling me into her lap. “Well, you’re already ours. David, April, you’re ours. If you’d yelled at us downstairs, told us to butt out of your social life, that we couldn’t make you do anything—” She laughed. “If you acted like a typical teenage girl for the first time ever, you’d still be ours. We’ve got you now and we’re never letting you go.”

  “Promise?” I felt so small, wrapped up and held as snug as tiny Steph.

  “Promise.” She sighed again. “We love you, and we’ll tell you so again and again until you finally believe it, until it really sticks. We’re family, you have us, you don’t need to earn us.” She gave me a final squeeze, kissing my cheek. “I’ll go down and explain all this to your dad so he won’t worry. Why don’t you study, or text Pinky, do whatever you want to do and I’ll be back up later for our ritual.”

  I nodded, returning the hug. “Okay.”

  “Okay. And it goes without saying but you don’t have to go bowling on Friday. I promise I’ll get better at checking with you and listening. I’ll be back up soon, darling girl.”

  With that she extracted herself and slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind her.