The Optimist's Guide to Letting Go

by Amy E. Reichert

  1. How do I get May to talk to me?

  2. What if my mom never speaks again?

  3. What if she dies?

  4. Who is Joe Sandowski?

  5. Dammit, Drew, why aren’t you here when I need you?

  “Dammit, Drew,” Gina whispered.

  His strength and patience weren’t available now, so she turned to the only reserve she had: make more lists. But lists didn’t feel like quite enough at the moment.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  May and Connor collapsed on the couch, sweaty and laughing.

  “Okay, I admit defeat. You are the Wii bowling master. I’ll never doubt your Wii athletic skills again,” Connor said.

  “And don’t forget it.”

  The couch in the basement was wide and squashy, the perfect place to get cozy with blankets and watch a movie, or sit close to a boy you liked. May couldn’t help but lean into his shoulder, solid from training for baseball year-round. All that laughter had worked muscles she hadn’t used in years. It felt good to be wobbly and tired. May flicked the TV back to a regular channel.

  “You’re both a bowling and brownie master—that’s epic in my book.”

  He turned to look at her, and their faces were suddenly inches apart. She’d never been this close to a boy before—at least, not one that she liked. His deodorant or cologne, probably some weird scent name like Icy Chill or Rugged Rocks, smelled like boy and drew her closer—she never wanted to forget it. What if he kissed her? She’d never kissed anyone before, but she liked the idea of Connor kissing her, especially after the fun afternoon they shared. What if she kissed him? Her body tingled at the thought, not even caring about how cliché it was to kiss a boy on the basement couch. It would be something a million other people had experienced, something she could share with Olivia, something to make her feel normal.

  That’s it. She was going to do it. She was going to kiss Connor Patel.

  In the time it took her to decide, Connor turned to face her, putting more room between them. His face looked serious.

  Oh no, something was wrong.

  Did she have bacon breath?

  That would be a good thing, right?

  He gently took her hands in his. They were shaking and a little clammy, but so were hers, so it was probably okay. Then he moved them up her arms, over the long sleeves and onto her shoulders.

  “May.” He paused and took a really deep breath. “Can I . . . can I kiss you?”

  Now it was her turn to suck in her breath. He wanted to kiss her, too? He wanted to kiss her. HE WANTED TO KISS HER! Wait, she hadn’t responded yet and wasn’t sure if she could speak. She managed a nod instead.

  Connor smiled, one corner twitching up a little farther. He leaned in closer to her. This was really happening. Then he paused.

  “But, like, more than just a peck. Okay?”

  How did she know? She’d never kissed anyone. Had he? What if she was awful? More than a peck . . . ? Like with tongue? The pulse in her throat hammered, making her tongue feel thick and her mouth dry.

  She nodded again.

  Connor licked his lips, so she did, too. Maybe that made it better. Whatever, she’d follow his lead.

  He closed his eyes, so May closed hers.

  The distance between them narrowed, and he set his lips on hers. They were kissing! His mouth was soft and a little damp. He moved his lips like he was eating M&M’s off a tabletop, so she mimicked him, eyes still shut. He switched the angle of his head so it was going the other way, so she adjusted hers. He slid his right hand into her hair like they did on all the CW shows. He pulled her head closer to his and opened his mouth wider. She did the same, their breath mingling in the space. Okay, she liked this. She really liked Connor. What would Olivia say? She didn’t think Olivia had kissed anyone yet.

  Connor made a sound and moved his left hand to her lower back, so she reached her arms around his neck, bringing them even closer together. She tried to envision all the places the people on TV put their hands when kissing because she didn’t want to run out of ideas. Then Connor stuck his tongue in her mouth. It was hot and wet and eager. And weird, like he was trying to lick her tongue. This couldn’t be right. Right? It seemed sort of unsanitary and kind of gross but also good. She opened her eyes to see if Connor was as surprised as she was at this new sensation, but his lids were closed. Because she was so close to him, he looked like the Cyclops they had learned about during the Greek unit in social studies. May burst out laughing. Connor pulled back, his forehead scrunching and his eyes becoming two again.

  “Did I do something wrong?” he asked. His voice sounded deeper.

  “No, no. I’m sorry. I just opened my eyes, and you had one eye. It seemed funny.”

  “You opened your eyes . . . while we were kissing?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And then you laughed?”

  “Yeah.”

  He ran his hand through his almost black hair, leaving some sections sticking out at odd angles. Had she offended him? Was this a major kissing foul? It was too late to lie, she’d already admitted it.

  “Was it that bad?”

  “No. Not at all.” May chewed on her lip. “It was a little different than I expected.”

  “Me, too . . .” He rubbed his pinky finger against her hand. “Different like way better. If that’s kissing, I want a lot more.”

  Wait . . . was that his first kiss, too? How did they even know if they did it right? What if they were both awful kissers, and they couldn’t tell? Did she even like it? The first bit was nice. Totally nice. Having his tongue in her mouth seemed like overkill, but maybe she just needed to get used to it.

  “Wanna try again?” she asked.

  His yes came in the form of action and before she could blink, his lips were connected to hers again, bumping his teeth against hers in his eagerness, but he pulled back before either of them chipped a tooth. The second time was nicer. She knew what to expect and relaxed into it, enjoying the twirling sensation in her stomach. Connor moved his hand to her back, finding the small bit of skin between the top of her pants and the bottom of her shirt. With each kiss, their tongues twisted, and it seemed more normal. She leaned into him, sending him backward on the couch with her on top, their legs all tangled up.

  Then a “Hello” from upstairs filtered through the kissing fog.

  Her mom.

  Was home.

  She pushed herself off Connor, losing her balance because their legs were intertwined and all mixed up, and fell to the floor with a yelp. Shit. She hadn’t told her mom that Connor was over. She wasn’t even supposed to have guests without asking first. Let alone making out in the basement.

  “May? Where are you?” Her mom’s voice rang through the house.

  “Basement,” she shouted back, then wiped her face, ran her hands through her hair, and smoothed her clothes. Her lips thumped from all the kissing. She was certain her mom would be able to tell with one look. How horrifying! Connor sat up and pulled a fringed pillow onto his lap, looking cool and collected. And cute. May smiled at him, flopped back onto the couch, careful to leave a few feet between them, and tossed him a Wii controller.

  They heard her mom’s steps before she appeared in the doorframe at the top of the stairs.

  “Hey, Connor.” Mom didn’t seem surprised to see him here. Wow, she was playing it cool. Either she didn’t care that May had a boy over while she was gone, or she didn’t want to yell at her in front of a guest. Probably the second option. “It’s nice to see you. I saw your mom at the hospital.”

  The hospital? Her mom looked okay.

  “Why were you at the hospital?”

  “I texted you. Grandma had a stroke this afternoon.”

  Her mom said it so matter-of-factly—that must mean Grandma was okay. She was acting like this on purpose so May had to ask questions. She didn’t want to fall for it, but she wanted to know about Grandma.

  “Is she going to be okay?”

  Regina’s mo
uth twitched upward.

  “So far. Connor’s mom is her neurologist, so we have the best.” She smiled at Connor.

  May slouched into the couch cushions and crossed her arms. Her mom’s eyes studied the room, taking in their very appropriate distance and viewing choice.

  “What have you been up to all day?” Regina asked.

  “Playing Wii and watching TV,” May said.

  “May made me the most incredible brownies with bacon and caramel. Regular brownies are ruined forever now,” Connor said. May almost elbowed him.

  “Bacon.” Her mom’s eyes narrowed. Busted. “Bacon does make everything better.”

  “That’s what May said. She learned from the best, obviously.”

  May looked at Connor. Was he sweet-talking her mom? What a suck-up! Though it was kind of sweet—maybe he wanted to be on her mom’s good side because he really liked her.

  “Well, your mom said if you were still here to send you home. She’ll be home soon for dinner. Do you want me to give you a ride? It’s gotten chilly out.”

  “No.” He set the pillow aside and stood. “The cold will feel good. I’ll probably jog most of the way.”

  He followed May’s mom up the stairs as she fussed about getting his coat. May clicked off the TV and followed after them then walked Connor to the door. She felt super weird again, now that her mom was here, like she didn’t know what to say.

  “Thanks for coming over. It was nice to have company.”

  “Maybe we could do it again.”

  May blushed and couldn’t even look directly at him, staring at the edge of his coat collar instead.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll text you later.”

  “Okay.”

  He waved and disappeared into the already dark evening. May could hear her mom in the kitchen, loudly pounding out chicken breasts to make a point about catching her in her vegetarian lie. But for some reason, getting caught didn’t feel so bad.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lorraine wasn’t one to dwell on the past, but now it was jumping up to find her. Seeing that picture and realizing everything she thought was safely buried was about to resurface filled her with fear, more fear than when she thought she was going to die alone. After Regina left, Victoria went to grab more coffee and something to read. Outside the hospital room door stood two older gentlemen, clearly together. Older, of course, being a relative term, as they were several years younger than she was. One of the men had his arms wrapped around the other, as he wept inconsolably, shoulders shaking. They were sad, yes, but they had each other. Whatever difficult moment they were experiencing, they were experiencing it together. She and Floyd had never had that, could never have had that. Alone again in her hospital room, Lorraine’s hand found the gold cross still hanging on her neck as she let her mind drift to how her second marriage had all begun.

  Lorraine’s father welcomed Floyd Price for a small family dinner. Floyd owned a business in Illinois that her father worked with frequently, supplying him with the custom-cut metal that Floyd’s company manufactured into parts used in the agriculture industry. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was essential. He had never married or had a family of his own. Now approaching forty-five and looking to move to Milwaukee to expand his business, a wife and children seemed a natural way to slide into society and make new connections. Over brandy old-fashioneds and cigarettes, her parents made the introductions while Lorraine sipped tea, leaving her chocolate Bundt cake untouched. Regina sat on her ever-shrinking lap picking up the small cake pieces Lorraine had cut for her and stuffing them in her mouth. Floyd would get an insta-family, and Lorraine would get financial security for herself and her daughters. Lorraine numbly listened to her father list all the wonderful reasons this was an ideal situation—most had to do with selling parts for machines she knew nothing about.

  “Is this what you want, Lorraine?” her mother asked, leaning in close so she could whisper.

  Lorraine brushed cake crumbs off of Regina’s frilly pink dress, the baby’s fingers damp from sticking them in her mouth. The one still in her belly squirmed, pressing a foot against a rib. She pressed on the spot, letting the little one know she had noticed. She was already exhausted from lack of sleep. What would it be like once she had two children? How would she work? Feed them? Clothe them? She’d finished high school, yes, but she’d never been on her own.

  She nodded.

  “If we are going to do this, it will have to be seamless. There will be no question of whose children they are.”

  Floyd was handsome in a full-lipped, boyish way, with gray speckles in his combed-back dark hair, exposing a high, smooth forehead. His pale skin was clean-shaven, a nice compliment to his custom-made suits and clearly expensive shoes. Neither of them suffered under the delusion that this was a love match.

  “I’m sure Lorraine feels the same way,” her father said. He puffed on his cigarette, blowing out smoke like a steam engine.

  Lorraine sat up straighter. She wanted to cry, to scream, to break things. But she wouldn’t. She didn’t have any way of supporting herself and her children the way they deserved, and this was the best way forward, now that Joe was gone. Lorraine had to believe she was doing the right thing. She couldn’t do it on her own, not without support. This was the support offered, financial and social stability and the best chance for her girls. Regina started to fuss, and her father shot her a look.

  “We’ll be married within the week,” she interrupted. “How will we explain why people haven’t seen me at the club the last few years? Why I haven’t spoken to anyone from school?”

  “We’ve told people you were working out east for some life experience before you settled down,” her mom said. “People stopped asking after a while.”

  Oh. Lorraine didn’t know they had lied to people about her. They didn’t like her decisions, so they had rewritten history, and now it would be her real life.

  “All right.” Taking control of the conversation eased some of the pain. She thought about what would make the arrangement as seamless as possible. “If anyone asks, we’ll say we married quickly, and had our first child.” The world our stuck on her tongue, making her want to gag. Floyd seemed nice enough, but nobody compared to Joe. And though raising her children as Floyd’s wouldn’t be easy, it would be possible. “We can sort out the exact details later. With our second child, I felt unwell and wanted to be closer to home, so we’ve moved back. By the time I’m back in public, people will be more interested in the children than the timeline.”

  “We’ll start dropping hints this weekend that you’re coming home with big news,” her mom said. Her parents were clearly old pros at manipulation.

  Lorraine stood, but before she left the room she had one more request.

  “I would also like to hire a nanny to help care for the children, and a housekeeper to help keep up the house.” If she was going to do this, she was going to do it in style, and with allies.

  Regina wiggled in her arms and started to fuss. Lorraine could smell that she needed her diaper changed and soon the entire room would know, too, but she waited for his answer. She wasn’t the only one getting something out of this arrangement. He was getting a turnkey family. Floyd met her gaze and gave her a measured smile.

  “Of course. You can have whatever help you require. I already have a housekeeper, but you should hire a nanny. I want all of us to feel . . . taken care of.”

  She nodded and left the room, carrying Regina upstairs. Yes, they would all be taken care of.

  Lorraine pinned Regina’s diaper and slipped her droopy arms and legs into her tiny pajamas. She’d fallen asleep mid-diaper change, her sweet cheeks still flecked with cake crumbs. Lorraine brushed them off, then scooped her up. She sniffed her head, smelling faintly of the Baby Magic lotion she always used on her after baths. Her tiny hand found the gold cross around her neck, and clutched it, pulling on the chain around Lorraine’s neck in her sleep, those dear tiny feet nudging the top of her round
belly. Lorraine swayed in the dim bedroom they had been sharing for a few days. Right now, holding her child, with another inside her, she almost felt whole again, like the nightmare of their loss had never happened. She let herself pretend, just for a moment.

  “Lorraine, might I have a word, please?”

  The peaceful moment was shattered by Floyd’s smooth voice. She nodded and set Regina into the old crib her mother had pulled out of the attic. She closed the door and stood in front of her soon-to-be husband in the narrow hallway, smelling cigarettes and coffee and cologne. She stood in front of him patiently, waiting for him to speak first.

  “I have a few more items I wish to discuss without your parents.”

  Lorraine’s mouth dried. She hadn’t given any thought to what marriage to Floyd might entail, beyond the solving of a problem. Panic swelled at the thought of being with someone other than Joe in that way, no matter how pleasant he was.

  Lorraine propped her hands on her belly. Exhaustion was creeping up and she just wanted to go to bed, but she wasn’t going to try to guess what he had to say. Floyd looked around the hallway, then spoke.

  “I won’t be expecting you to perform any marital duties.” His mouth formed the words like they were uncomfortable to say aloud. “In fact, I have no interest in sharing a bed with you. Or any woman. Do you understand?” He looked at her directly.

  What did he just say? Her mouth popped open. This wasn’t something ever discussed in polite conversation.

  “Lorraine?” His voice was edged with uncertainty and his eyes darted downstairs, where her parents were. He had taken a big risk revealing his secret. Could she keep it for him?

  “I do.” She said the words slowly. Floyd let his shoulders relax at her response.

  “It’s important we’re honest—honest about everything—for this partnership to work. We need each other, and I really believe this . . . arrangement can benefit us both. Now you understand that our marriage will help keep people from asking questions I’d rather they didn’t ask, for the sake of my business and my personal life and now your personal life as well. I want you to know, though, that I will have . . .” He paused to look over his shoulder again. “I will have friends. Very discreet friends, of course. I understand if you feel the need to do the same, as long as you are equally discreet.”