The Optimist's Guide to Letting Go

by Amy E. Reichert

  “I’m sure you’ve misread the situation and I’ll do no such thing. And I didn’t ask you here to talk nonsense. How is your niece?”

  “She’s fourteen, so a pain in the ass.”

  “Was she rude to you?” That girl. She needed to be polite to family, at the very least.

  “Not at all. Though I’m not entirely sure she was completely conscious. I went in her room to check on her, and her blankets grumbled at me. I didn’t look under them, so she could have been eaten by something.”

  “That’s not checking.”

  “She’s alive. What more do you want?”

  “Maybe talk to her. Make sure she eats breakfast. Ask what her plans are for the day. You know, conversation. I’m sure you do it every day with your own children.”

  “She’ll be fine. She can feed herself and doesn’t need anyone to wipe her backside.” Vicky picked up Gina’s sandwich and took a bite. “I love my kids, but if I never wipe another tiny butt, I’ll consider my life a success.”

  “Teens need more supervision, they can get into real trouble.”

  “Maggie flushing Nathan’s LEGOs isn’t trouble? The plumber cost five hundred dollars.” She spoke around the sandwich she was still chewing. Gina snorted. That sounded like the twins.

  “Hey, this is good,” Vicky said. She set the sandwich back down. “This is like a minivacation for me, and I’m not going to spend it checking up on May. She’s your daughter, you do it.”

  “Yes, all of my sandwiches are good. You don’t have to sound so surprised. And you just lost the best aunt award.”

  “I’m her only aunt.”

  “That’s what makes it all the more tragic.”

  Gina chopped and mixed the ingredients for the salad, and double-checked her list, crossing out each item she’d finished. She was ready to open for the day, with fifteen minutes to spare.

  “I didn’t come all the way down here to get lectured. What did you want to talk about?”

  “I swung by Roza’s today. She said she didn’t know anything about the photo or the birth certificate.”

  She pulled the SPECIAL sign out and wrote up a description of her new sandwich; the From Austin, with Love Grilled Pork Taco Sandwich with spicy peach salsa cream cheese.

  “Really? That’s what I’m here for? I was in fuzzy pajamas that didn’t have any food stains on them with a hot cup of coffee and a crossword puzzle, and you called me out into the cold to tell me Roza didn’t know anything. Why would she?”

  “That’s just it. She knows everything about our family, even stuff she doesn’t tell Mom. Remember when you had that stray kitten in your room for a week and Roza put a litter box in there.”

  “That was Roza? I thought Mom did it.”

  “Mom would have thrown the cat out the window if she had found it, let alone given you a litter box. I saw Roza do it. The point is she knows everything. I don’t believe for a second she doesn’t know the story behind this. Plus, you didn’t see her face. She straight-up lied to me.”

  “Maybe it was Mom’s secret lover or a neighbor she didn’t like. Roza can hold a grudge if she wants.” Vicky smiled, enjoying her outlandish guess.

  “She’s not holding a grudge. What are you even talking about? And I’m not even going to acknowledge the idea that Mom had lovers. Ew.”

  “A distant relative? He kind of looks like us if you squint at the picture a bit. Or he could be one of Roza’s family members? She had a lot of them, and they were always around. Do you remember any of their names?”

  “No. But none of that would make sense. Roza would just tell us if it was any of those.” Gina tapped her lips with a finger as she thought through the logic.

  “Not if he was Mom’s lover. I did say you were a secret love child from a torrid affair.”

  Gina raised her hand.

  “Stop. If you keep bringing up that nonsense, I’m banning you from the truck forever.”

  Vicky laughed. Teasing Gina was still one of her favorite hobbies.

  “So what do you want to do?”

  “I thought you could ask Roza. You’re better at getting people to tell you things.”

  “You mean I’m better at being a bitch and demanding answers.”

  “Your words, not mine.” Gina held up her hands.

  “I haven’t seen her in ages. I’m due for a chat. Was she baking anything?”

  “There were chocolate chip cookies everywhere.”

  “Done deal. I’ll go. I’ll text you after.”

  Gina gave her sister a quick kiss on the cheek.

  “What was that for?”

  “Thank you for being here. Everything is always less overwhelming when I see you.”

  After Vicky left, she opened her window and propped up her sign with the day’s special. Back to her routine. She may not know how she was going to help her mom recover, or the mystery of the photo, or why Roza had lied, but she did know how to make her customers happy—gooey cheese and lots of it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  May left a note on the kitchen table.

  Gone to Olivia’s. Text if you need me home.

  She knew she wouldn’t hear from her mom—between her grandma and the food truck, her mom didn’t have time for her. May had texted Olivia that she had BIG news that morning, and even though they hadn’t texted since September, according to her iPhone, Olivia responded as expected.

  YAM!

  Olivia had called her Yam ever since kindergarten, when she had overheard May’s dad call her that during a playdate. Olivia had thought it was hilarious and had used it ever since. It had been too long since anyone had called her that.

  GET OVER HERE NOW!

  So she was getting over there now.

  Olivia lived a few blocks over in the opposite direction of Connor’s house. May didn’t bother with gloves or a hat or boots: tucking her hands into her pockets would suffice, and she had a hood if the wind picked up. No reason to bring extra things that she would have to keep track of. It had snowed last night, too, so the neighborhood was quieter than normal, except for the distant snowblowers. There wasn’t much of a breeze, and the cool air cleared her mind more than distracted it. The last time she hung out with her friends, it hadn’t gone well.

  Last year she had gone to a girl-boy party at their friend Hannah’s house where a dozen thirteen-year-olds were scattered around the large basement. Some kids tried to play pool, which mainly meant knocking in the balls when the opponent wasn’t paying attention. Other kids piled onto bean bags around the TV where they snark-watched episodes of Dora the Explorer. A third group, all girls, huddled in a corner, discussing which boys they had a crush on, the occasional giggle breaking up their loud whispering. That was the group May firmly avoided.

  May sat on the outskirts of the TV group, counting the minutes until her mom would pick her up while flicking through photos of her dad on her phone; trips to the lakefront, State Fair, and their trip to Walt Disney World. But her favorite was from a few weeks before he died. She and her dad had been sitting on top of the picnic table in the backyard. It had been late afternoon, and the sun was low in front of them. She had leaned her head on his shoulder as he kissed the top of it. They were talking about their plans for the upcoming summer. He was going to teach her more about motorcycles—he swore all his favorite ladies knew about things like that. May’s mom had taken her phone and snapped the picture without either of them realizing. Now she would never learn about motorcycles, and she never wanted to.

  Just like she didn’t want to be at this stupid party, but it made her mom happy when she did things with other people. One more hour to go. She had moved on to the next picture when the couch cushions dipped next to her. Olivia sat down.

  “What’s up?”

  May shrugged and turned her phone facedown. Olivia took that as a sign to keep talking.

  “Hannah said she like-liked Connor. Can you believe it?” May looked across the room, where Connor was bent over the pool tabl
e, trying to aim into a side pocket. Hannah stood next to him, clearly in his way, but he was too nice to tell her to move. She pulled her blond curls over one shoulder, then tilted her head so far that it looked like she might actually fall over. May rolled her eyes, and Olivia continued.

  “Could she be more obvious? So which boy are you watching?”

  Olivia scanned the room as if to pick out which person May might be interested in.

  “No one.”

  Olivia leaned in closer. “Come on. There has to be someone you have a tiny crush on. Is it Ben? Or Mikey?”

  May didn’t want to be having this conversation. She wanted to be in her bed, under her covers, in peace.

  “Were you taking pictures of anyone?” Olivia grabbed May’s phone before she could stop her, turning it over to see a picture of her dad. Olivia went still, clearly not expecting this reminder of May’s loss. Ugh. May grabbed the phone and turned off the screen.

  “I wasn’t taking pictures.” The words came out harsh and louder than she meant. A few of their friends turned to see what was going on.

  “Sorry. I guess . . . I thought . . .”

  Olivia’s voice was hushed and she seemed suddenly uncomfortable when moments before she had been giggly and relaxed.

  “What?”

  “I guess, since you’re here, I thought you were ready to be normal again.”

  Harsh. May didn’t need a reminder how nonnormal she was.

  “I can’t just forget my dad died. Making fun of Swiper or talking about stupid crushes certainly isn’t going to make me feel better.” Her voice was loud again, but not everyone was looking. “So no, I’m not ready to be normal again.” She stood and walked up the stairs, thankful no one followed. She called her mom to get her, and that was the last time she had tried to be social outside of school. At first, she was angry that none of them seemed to understand, but then she didn’t know how to jump back in.

  But for the first time in forever, she had something exciting to share, something that had nothing to do with her dad. Her feet stumbled at the thought. Kissing Connor had nothing to do with her dad. She didn’t think her dad had even met Connor—he was always “one of the boys from school,” nameless and faceless. It made her sad that he would never know him, but it also was something to cling to. Connor wouldn’t bring up old memories. He was new and shiny, like a toy on Christmas morning. She probably shouldn’t compare a person to a toy, but whatever.

  She pushed aside the lingering sadness and clung to the shiny newness. She was going to tell her friend about her first kiss and she wasn’t going to feel bad about it.

  She walked up the steps to Olivia’s house, and before she could ring the doorbell, Olivia threw it open and yanked her in. Her long dark hair was straight and shiny, like a black waterfall, except for vibrant purple streaks that would pop up as she moved. When she wore her hair up in a ponytail for gym, her head looked like a purple-and-black-striped circus tent.

  “Brendan said Connor was at your house all day yesterday. Spill!”

  Like most of their classmates, Olivia’s parents worked long hours at the enormous hospital complex down the road, so they had the house to themselves. Her younger brothers had been farmed out to various friends during break, while Olivia was deemed old enough to be at home alone, but not old enough to watch her brothers. It was a win all the way around, as Olivia explained on their way to the kitchen, where two mugs of cocoa waited for them.

  “I thought you might be chilly,” Olivia said as she pulled a foil cylinder out of the freezer and tore it open. May grinned. Thin Mints, just like always. They both pulled one out, took a small bite to expose the cookie, then dipped them into their drinks. Just enough hot chocolate got absorbed into the cookies to make them even more delicious. Maybe Olivia wanted their old friendship back, too. May warmed more from Olivia’s gesture than from the hot chocolate. “Okay, back to Connor. Now talk.”

  “Not much to tell.” May decided to play it like it was no big deal. “He texted and came over. We played Wii bowling. I crushed him. We made out.”

  Olivia nodded along to her summary until her eyes shot wide at the surprise ending.

  “HE KISSED YOU!? How could you not lead with that? Oh my God, Hannah is going to be so jealous. She’s liked him all year. I knew he liked you. He’s always looking at you in math class.”

  “He is?”

  “Yeah, everyone knows. I suppose you can’t see because he’s behind you.”

  “Everyone knows? You guys talk about it?”

  “Well, sometimes.” Olivia took another cookie. “But only in a nice way. We’ve been encouraging him to ask you out. Bring you out of hiding.” May’s new, shiny information was barely news, only a happy ending to her friends’ meddling. Olivia leaned forward as May leaned back in her chair. “It wasn’t anything bad, swear. We miss you.” She nudged the cookies closer to May. “Now, how was the makeout?”

  May could get pissed they were talking about her, or she could ignore it. They weren’t being mean. She knew they didn’t understand what was going on with her. How could they? May took another peace-offering cookie and chewed before answering.

  “It was nice. Then weird. He used tongue.”

  Olivia leaned in.

  “He did? Brendan hasn’t tried that.”

  She and Brendan were kissing? When did that happen?

  “I might have laughed in his face.”

  Olivia laughed so hard she could barely breathe. With each cookie, May felt more and more like her old self, someone who laughed and got excited about who liked who. She felt normal.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Lorraine knew before she opened her eyes who was sitting at the side of her bed. She would know that scent anywhere—the warm spicy perfume Lorraine had introduced her to so many years ago, and the Polish caramels she always munched on. The girls had told Roza about her stroke. A strong, familiar hand enveloped her own.

  “You old fool. What have you gotten yourself into now?” Roza rubbed her wrinkled hand on Lorraine’s. She didn’t look a day older than Lorraine, even though she was her senior by fifteen years. Lorraine squeezed her hand, letting her know she understood.

  “The girls have been to see me—on two separate trips. Gina tried to bribe me with candy—and, I tell you, it almost worked.” Roza launched into a conversation as if Lorraine could answer her. It was nice to have someone treat her like nothing had changed. Lorraine focused on the words and did her best to ignore her own inability to respond. “Vicky has gotten quite a mouth on her. I’m sure you’ve told her about it.” Roza chuckled. “They are strong women, like you. When they are determined, they get what they want.”

  Roza was right, her girls would discover the truth soon enough. She’d kept her memories so secret, Lorraine didn’t know what would happen when she let them free. They were a swirling cloak that kept her warm during the darkest of nights, on mornings when she’d crawled out of bed and painted on a presentable face, in moments when Joe’s loss sucked the oxygen from the room. They were the glue that had held her together, the shield that only she could use. If she loosened her hold on them after all this time, would she fall apart?

  Roza knew the truth, too. Roza was a time capsule of all Lorraine’s best and worst moments, and she had always been there when Lorraine needed her.

  Lorraine left Regina with her mother while she returned to her and Joe’s cozy little apartment to pack up her belongings.

  It wasn’t long ago that she had stood in the living room, with its red, blue, and yellow plaid carpet, and kissed her Joe good-bye, thinking their future was rolled out like a never-ending red carpet. Now he was under a rock, and she was about to marry a man who she didn’t even know. Her first marriage had been like a sunny day in March, the Northern Lights on a summer night, snow in June—rare and precious, but not impossible. She didn’t know what marriage with Floyd would hold. He may even have been all of those things, but he never would be to her.

  Sh
e had loved Joe with every part of her. In a scant four years, she had met him, married him, made babies with him, then buried him. It had all seemed surreal until now, when she had to make practical decisions about the most horrific of tragedies. Should she donate the coffee mugs? He’d drunk his black coffee out of them, his lips had touched their rims. She left them in the cupboard for the next tenant. Should she keep the shampoo? It was her favorite, yes, but he always used it, too, and now the smell reminded her of him. She tossed it in the garbage. She ripped the bed linens off and threw them in a heap with all the pillows and comforters. She added the towels to the pile—anything that had touched him went in. She should donate them, but the thought of anyone else using his things broke her.

  Her knees buckled, and she sank into the pile like it was a nest, tears uncontrolled. If she breathed deep enough, she could still smell his aftershave, a woodsy smoky scent. Once these sheets and towels were gone, would she never smell him again? A tornado of hate caught her up, first at him for leaving her, then at herself for thinking such a traitorous thought. Her entire body clenched as more tears poured out of her, like a towel being wrung dry over and over again. Wilted, she lay on the sheets, using a pillowcase to wipe her face. She would never move again.

  But then the baby in her belly squirmed, reminding her this was not only about her. Her darling Regina needed her. This new baby needed her.

  Sheer force of will got her moving again. Lorraine shoved the despair down and clambered to her feet, her pregnant belly a bigger encumbrance than she’d expected. She couldn’t keep breaking down like this, not when there was work to be done. Focus on a task. Complete it. Move to the next task. One could fill a life that way.