The Truth About Letting Go by Leigh Talbert Moore

then he’ll get bored with you.”
    “Seriously? That’s your advice?”
    She exhales loudly, as the bell sounds. “No. Hell no. I don’t know.”
    “I wasn’t trying to get him to ask me out.”
    “And yet he’s so ready to do it anyway.”
    “Are you mad at me?”
    I watch her collect her things. Her lips tighten, and I know she is. But she shrugs. “Your life’s been screwed up enough this year. Being mad at you’s like kicking a puppy.”
    “But you still are.” And in a strange way, I want her to be. I want out of the bubble.
    Her eyes flick to mine. “I’m going to the luau with him, and you’re going with Jordan. And whatever happens, happens.”
    I pack up my half-eaten salad and follow her to the front. “That’s what I’ve learned.”
    After school, Jordan is waiting for me at his mom’s old Corolla. He probably wonders why I never drive my shiny year-old Audi, but I hate being alone in that car. I should probably offer to let him drive it.
    When he sees me, a smile warms his face and my stomach tightens. The fact that I warm up at the sight of him when I know it’s going nowhere is more proof of how messed up my brain is.
    I speak first. “Hey, you want to take my car Friday night?”
    “You too good for the old Corolla now?” He’s still smiling, and my silly stomach is still tight.
    “Actually, I kind of like this old antique.”
    “Then no way. I’m driving it.” He steps to the side and opens my door. I toss in my bag and hold the back of my short skirt as I sit. I can’t wait to get out of this thing.
    My conversation with Mandy has been on my mind all afternoon, the randomness of her dad meeting Colt’s and him ending up here. The way it all just happened by chance, coincidence, no great plan or design. It fits perfectly with my new personal philosophy, with how I want to live now. Only I can’t think of it that way, like it was meant to happen, or that screws it all up.
    Jordan slams his door and gives me another smile. He pauses a split second as if he’s considering leaning forward and kissing me, and I quickly look out the window, breaking the moment.
    Jordan wants to keep me safe, to help me get through this. But I don’t want to be safe. Safe is a lie. The safest person on the planet can still choke to death or trip over their dog or get cancer. I don’t want that. Dreams and callings get you nowhere, and when you need them most, they disappear.
    I want escape and random and chance. And Colt.
     
    * * *
     
    Mom is home when I get there for the first time in a week. I only have a few hours before Jordan picks me up again, and I’d planned to spend them getting ready slowly. I didn’t expect to see my one remaining parent before I left. She’s in the kitchen checking the mail when she looks up and sees me.
    “Hey, honey,” she says. “Date tonight?”
    “It’s the luau. I’ve got to change and get ready before Jordan gets here.”
    She nods and turns back to the mail.
    I decide to wear khaki Capri pants and a green tank. We’ll all get one of those cheap pink and blue-flowered leis at the luau, so I’ll look the part somewhat. When I return from my room, Mom walks over and sits beside me on the couch. She’s still in her brown pencil-skirt from work and white blouse, but she’s barefoot and her light-brown hair is down. She’s still pretty, even if she never smiles now.
    “So who’s Jordan?” Her voice contains a warmth I haven’t heard in six months, and it irritates me.
    “Jordan Adams. He’s a guy from school.”
    “Does he live in the neighborhood?”
    “Shadow Falls.”
    She picks up a magazine and holds it for a split second before putting it facedown on the coffee table. Dad’s subscription to Healthy Man hasn’t expired yet, and the issues just keep on coming. I decide to call tomorrow and ask them to keep the money, just please stop sending us new copies.
    She clears her throat. “I’ll hang out and meet him.”
    “It’s okay, Mom.