It was the reason I distanced myself and saw her less as the years went by.  Then again, I distanced myself from most people who knew Lake.  People who would talk about her, remind me of her in some way.  My mother was the biggest offender.  She couldn’t resist reminiscing about Lake as if she were just some daughter who’d traveled across the world on vacation.  She still talked about adopting “another girl.”  She’d look at a necklace in a window and muse about how nice it’d look on Lake and it drove me insane.

So I took care of her from afar.  After my dad divorced her, I’d sworn to myself that she’d never want for a thing.  I kept to that promise.  But it was by sending her money, paying to have the bathroom redone, booking her lavish vacations.  I saw her on occasion, usually with others, because that gave her no chance to tell me that she wanted to try looking again.  She’d done it once before, confessing that she’d spent the past week searching for Lake on Facebook and every other social media platform that she taught herself how to navigate.  So I stopped seeing her.

It wasn’t something I felt good about.  I hated avoiding my mother.  I missed her and it felt as if I had been since Lake disappeared.  She hadn’t been the same person since that morning but I told myself that the distance was for the better.  We were saner without our combined memories of Lake.  I justified the way I skirted her and ignored her calls.  I sunk myself into work.  I rearranged my values and morals – my thoughts, my heart and my entire life after Lake left.

And I’d never felt guiltier about it as I walked into Broome Street Kitchen to meet my mother for lunch.  I realized it was the first time in eight months that I’d seen my mother one-on-one, despite the fact that we lived in the same city.  I laughed and shook my head when I reached her table.  She was already beaming because she knew she’d been aging rapidly backwards since Lake’s return.  Her hair was down and flipped to cover the grey and her skin glowed in a way I hadn’t seen since I was a kid.  She’d stopped wearing jewelry when Lake left – I’d just figured Lake took it all – but now she was adorned with all those bright, sparkling pieces I grew up seeing her wear.  She looked practically in her thirties again.

“You look just as happy as I do,” she said as she hugged me tight.  “See the effect she has on people? I even saw it at dinner.  She was a star.  The belle of the ball!”

I gave a strained smile as I took a seat at our booth.  There were two cappuccinos and no menus on the table.  “You’ve already ordered?”

“Of course.  I want to get straight to talking about her.  Is she having a wonderful time?” Mom’s blue eyes gleamed hopefully at me but she frowned fast when I laughed and shook my head at her.  “Callum Pike, you promised you’d report back with every detail, now tell me what’s going on with my girl.  I want to be briefed on how it’s been before I meet her for dinner.”  She smoothed the napkin on her nap and pursed her lips self-consciously.  “I’m very nervous.  I’m afraid we won’t have anything to talk about anymore.”

“That’s crazy.  You’ve always been best friends.”

“You two have always been best friends.  So you know everything.”  She touched the back of her hair and lowered her voice.  “No one’s been mean to her or anything, right?”

“You do realize we’re all adults, right? It’s not high school anymore.”

“I’m well aware of the time that’s passed, Callum, but time doesn’t always change feelings and you two did make a few enemies together.  Enemies who still live in Manhattan,” she said, raising her eyebrows as she sipped her espresso.

“I’m keeping her away from any of that.”

“Good.  We need to keep all the negativity at bay because I don’t think I’ve been this overjoyed in…” She threw her hands in the air.  Manicured.  They hadn’t been in awhile.  “Oh, I don’t know how long! It’s immeasurable.  But I can tell you I haven’t taken any of the,” she lowered her voice, “you know.”

I looked up from the cocktail list.  “Pills?”

“Sh!” Ten years she’d been taking antidepressants but she still acted like it was some shameful coke habit.  “But yes.  I’ve… quit them,” she said with a flutter of her fingers.

“Really.  No withdrawal symptoms?”

“Bit of a stomach bug, but I heard that’s normal.  I don’t care.  I’ll brave it.  I have to.  I tossed out the whole bottle.”

“Mom, that’s… amazing,” I said, though I felt my throat tighten instantly after.  As grateful as I was for the news, I couldn’t help being uneasy about the fact that my mother pinned all her hope for joy on Lake being home.  I clenched my jaw, shifting in my seat as the salads arrived.

I didn’t realize till that moment that I still believed she could do it again.  Disappear.  She’d spent most of her life by my side before leaving the first time.  I wasn’t exactly sold on the fact that the past two weeks with me would keep her from doing it again, and it was making it harder and harder to enjoy the way my mother gushed and sighed and laughed the way she hadn’t for so long.  She went on and on about the reservations she’d booked at spas, shops, restaurants from Manhattan to Hudson Valley.  All for Lake.  I tried not to let my mind dip into my negative thoughts but I caved.  I imagined how hard my mother would crash from this high if Lake ran off again.  I had no doubt that a second time would officially break her.  Imagining it shot my mood straight to Hell.

Leaning in my chair, the distrust for Lake crawled back like a disease.  I touched my hand to my mouth, nodding, thoughtful and reactive to every giddy thing my mother said but under the table, my drumming fingers moved faster as my fury rose again.  Lake had promised not to leave again but there was little guarantee in words.  I wasn’t going to blindly believe her and for that reason, I couldn’t bring myself to enjoy my mother’s smile, which I found a little fucking depressing.

There goes that.  The last week with Lake had been phenomenal and the morning capped it off.  I’d felt a strange ease with her, moving around the kitchen, having breakfast, talking about our plans for the day.  I’d enjoyed the hell out of the simple pleasure of it all but it was only one step forward and with the realization that I still doubted her, I’d just taken two back.

I ran the water scalding hot when I got back to the apartment.  Lake was going to be home soon and as tempting as it was to unload on her my every dark thought and suspicion, I knew to instead find a way to calm myself down.  Nothing productive would come out of my accusations.  It was my distrust versus her insistence and that was a pointless conversation so I tried to just wash away my anger before she returned.  I didn’t want to lash out the second she walked in.  I knew it probably wouldn’t be fair.  So I breathed in the thick steam and reminded myself that Lake had loved my mother, too, with all her heart and as much as I did.

As I ducked my head under the raining water, I heard the whisper of her seventeen-year-old voice.

“We should cancel the beach trip, Callum.”

I remembered her climbing into my bed that one night.  She did it often but I was particularly annoyed that time because I’d actually fallen asleep.

“Get out of my bed.”

“Did you hear me? We should stay home this weekend.”

“Stop.  Talking to me.  Go to sleep.”  I tossed away from her.  She ignored me and climbed under my sheets.  “In your own bed.”

“I can’t sleep, she’s crying.”

“She’s always crying.  Take her Ambien.”

Lake was quiet for a second and that made me hopeful that she was going to leave me alone.  I had wrestling practice before school and after and I’d gotten about eight combined hours of sleep all week thanks to all the late-night sobbing.  But Lake only cuddled her body into my back.  “Can I tell you my dream from this morning?”