Page 44 of Thin Ice

Shit.

Her face changed. A mix of anger and disappointment, as if I had hit her in the stomach.

"Mom. I didn't mean — "

"I know what you meant." She was quiet for a beat. Her hand was still on my arm. She didn't take it off, which was how I knew I'd hurt her, and how I knew she was going to forgive me in the same breath. "But I want you to hear something."

She looked at me.

"I work hard. You work hard. We have a roof, and we have food, and we have each other, and there is nothing poor about any of that. I have never once been ashamed of what I can provide for you, Liam. Not once. And if the thing that scares you about bringing that boy into our house is that he'll see what I've built and think it's not enough — " She stopped. Took a breath. "Then you're not seeing what I built."

My eyes burned. I looked at the floor.

"I'm sorry," I said. "That's not what I — I'm sorry, Mom."

"Thank you." She squeezed my arm. "I know you didn't mean it like that. You're scared and you're saying scared things. But don't make my life small just because you're afraid someone else will."

She let go. Patted my arm twice and picked up her purse.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go."

We walked out with nothing. I sat in the passenger seat on the drive back, looking at the lake through the windshield with two hams and sixty-eight dollars of Christmas food in the trunk and no gift. My mom started the car, and neither of us said anything for a minute.

Then, my phone rang.

Alex's name on the screen, and I knew before I picked up that something was wrong.

"Hey."

"Liam."

His voice was wrong.

"What's going on?"

"I told him." A breath. "I told him everything. It's done."

"What do you mean it's done?"

"I'm done." Another breath, shorter. "The trust, the tuition. He said I'm not — that I'm no longer — "

His voice broke.

"Where are you right now?"

"Outside. The front steps. I have my bag."

"Stay there."

I looked at my mom. She was already looking at me. She'd heard my tone and shifted into crisis-fix-it-mom-mode.

"Mom."

"Which way?"

"The Point."

I put the phone back to my ear.