Chapter 24
Amari’s house has its own gate and practically its own street. It was easy for Kayla and me to find the address online. We buzz the intercom.
“I’ll meet you at the door,” Amari says when she picks up.
“She’s too rich to be messed up,” Kayla mutters.
“Everyone’s got issues,” I say as we pull into a long driveway lined with trees. I couldn’t see the house from where we were but as we get closer, it comes into view. The two levels of glass and stone look like something straight out of Architectural Digest.
Amari stands in the big glass doorway, watching us park the car.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Kayla asks.
I think for a second. “No,” I say. “I need to do this alone.” I brace myself for an objection, but it doesn’t come.
“Okay, well, I’m here if anything gets weird.”
“Thank you. I’ll be right back.” I step out of the car and close the door. I pause to fix my clothes but also to give myself time to ease into seeing Amari’s face. She walks down the few steps in front of her house to the gravel driveway. I meet her there.
“Hi,” she says, and I hear the nervousness in her voice.
“Hi,” I say, softening because of it.
She looks vulnerable, her tough exterior let down. I’ve only seen this side of Amari in small moments at the center when she thought no one was looking, when you could tell she was lost in a memory she didn’t love.
“What do your mom and stepdad do?” I ask, gesturing up at the mansion.
“They run a tech company.”
I nod.
“You didn’t have to come all the way here, Jasmine. This whole thing isn’t that serious.”
“Well, your view of seriousness was always a little skewed, so…”
She puts her hands in her pockets and looks at the ground. “I tried to talk to you, Jasmine. I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”
“I’m sorry, but why should I believe this wasn’t always your plan, Amari? To come home and do this to me?”
She shifts on her feet but doesn’t say anything.
“What about in the center, when you were setting me up?” I continue.
“Setting you up?” She sounds genuinely confused, but I don’t buy it.
“Yes, setting me up. And Sam. And maybe even Tanya?” I’ve been running the last year back through my head for weeks now. Over time, it became undeniable that Amari has always only looked out for herself. I expect her to deny the accusations, but to my surprise, her shoulders slump in defeat.
“I wanted to spend as much time as I could with you. It wasn’t about hurting you. I didn’t want to hurt you at all. I just really, really wanted to be with you.”
I try to imagine how she must have felt at the center, always chasing whatever made her feel less alone until she met someone she felt a spark with. There was a time it would have felt good to hear her say it was only because she wanted to be with me. But now, the words feel hollow.
“Amari, it’s always about what you want, not what’s best for anyone else,” I point out. Tears start filling my eyes and I don’t have the energy to stop them.
“That’s not true, Jasmine. Don’t cry. And I’m sorry about Sam. I regretted it immediately.”
“I missed my mom’s wedding, Amari, and you’re saying it’s because you wanted to spend more time with me. We could have done that out here,” I say, gesturing to the world around us.
“We still can. I’m sorry,” she says. Her eyes are wide and pleading, but it’s too little, too late.
“We can’t.”
She looks like she might cry. I take a deep breath.
“I’m not sorry I got to know you, Amari.
I don’t know how I would have made it through that year without you.
I’m grateful for the time we spent together, and for the real feelings you shared with me,” I say.
“But I’ll never forgive you for lying to me.
And for what you did to Sam,” I continue, wiping my cheeks.
“Jasmine, I—”
I put my hand up to stop her. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
She doesn’t respond and that’s okay. I can’t imagine what she would even say. Because while I’m grateful to Amari for many things, our relationship has run its course. I start back to the car.
“Jasmine!” Amari calls out.
I turn around.
“I meant most of it,” she says with a shrug.
“I’m sure you did,” I say. “Goodbye, Amari.”
“Later, Jas,” she says, and disappears into the house in a shimmer of glass.
I slide into the passenger’s side and slump in the seat. The tears come quickly again, and I let them.
Kayla turns the music on and drives off. “Proud of you, sis,” she says.
Kayla reassures me that I did the right thing a few more times once we’re home, and honestly, it feels good to hear. Even though it went exactly as I’d hoped and planned, facing Amari for the last time was harder than I thought.
“So, you gonna tell me about your secret mission with Kayla this morning?” my mom asks as we head out to run an errand. “And why she keeps telling you that you did the right thing?” She looks at me before she pulls off, genuine curiosity on her face.
I don’t want to lie anymore, and this feels like an opening. “I confronted Amari,” I explain.
Her reaction doesn’t give anything away. “I see,” she says. “And how was that?”
I’m surprised by the follow-up—does she really want to know?
Even before the center, she never talked to me about any relationships, which I took to mean they were forbidden.
Add on to that the fact that I met Amari in a detention center, and that I was lying to my mom for months about being in contact with her.
“Do you really want to know, or is this going to backfire on me?” I ask.
She chuckles. “Yeah, we should talk first,” she says, and then, “yes, I do want to know.”
“Okay.”
“But I’m going to ask you to try and let your guard down so you can really hear me.”
“I don’t have my guard up,” I say automatically.
“You always do,” she says, “and I don’t blame you.”
I’m suddenly aware of how fast my heart is beating. I lean back in my seat to calm down. “Then maybe, I don’t know … but I’ll try?”
“That’s good enough,” she says, pulling into a space in front of the bakery.
I start to open the door but she stops me.
“Before we get out, I want to start by saying something I know I haven’t said often enough.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
I look down at my thighs because I don’t know how to look at her. I don’t think she’s ever apologized to me before—not for real, full in the face, with so much meaning behind it that I know she means for everything.
“Are you listening, Jasmine?” she asks, putting her hand on top of mine. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
A tear hits the top of her hand and she uses the other to lift my head. I’m surprised I even have tears left at this point.
“I had no idea what I was really signing you up for, even when you tried to tell me. That’s no excuse, I feel horrible.
I always wondered if there was something else I should have done.
When I saw you at the police station, I was so afraid that it was already too late to steer you back in the right direction.
The system took over and I told myself I didn’t have a choice.
They talked about corrective action and I just went along with it.
I thought … I convinced myself it was for the best. But I should’ve at least tried.
I should’ve fought for you,” she says. Her voice breaks and I look up to see tears in her eyes.
“I wish you’d told me all this sooner,” I say. “I was so convinced you thought I was bad, that it was all my fault. Some nights I thought … I thought you were happy to get rid of me.”
“Oh, Jasmine. When you left, it gutted me. I cried most of the nights you were at Guiding Hearts.”
“You did? Even though I messed up while I was in there?”
“Yes, I felt so guilty that I was sleeping in my own bed when you couldn’t.
The thought of you in a place with bars …
After a while I had to convince myself that you were fine so I didn’t lose my mind.
And I know that put a strain on us because whenever we spoke, I glossed over things when I was just trying not to remind you of your situation. ”
“It felt like you didn’t care,” I say, “like you were just moving on with life since you got me out of the way. That’s kind of why I started going downhill—I figured everybody forgot about me. I didn’t know you were having a hard time too.”
My mom rubs my hand reassuringly. “I could never move on without you, Jasmine. And knowing I put you somewhere like that has brought me so much shame. I didn’t ask you to lie only for your own sake—part of that was for my own.
After seeing what it’s done to you, I just …
I failed big time,” she says, choking up again.
I rub her hand this time. “I don’t know if I gave you much of a choice, Mom.” I pause before breaking the silence with a question that’s been on my mind. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything, honey,” she says.
“Are you ashamed that people know about me now?”
She takes a moment to think before she answers, and it makes me nervous. I don’t know how I’ll handle her answer if it’s yes.
“I’m not ashamed that people know. I’m ashamed that I cared more about what people would think about you than what lying would make you think about yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your dad and I were so young when we had you. I don’t regret it for a second, but I always wanted you to have a bigger life than I had.
I worried that if everyone knew where you’d been, you’d miss out on all the opportunities our new life here has afforded us—opportunities I never had.
But I realize now that by asking you to lie, I made you feel like your experiences are something to be ashamed of, and that’s not how I want you to see yourself in the world. ”
“I know you were just trying to protect me, Mom,” I say. It’s what she’s always tried to do, in her own way. “It felt good to leave my mistakes behind and have a fresh start, even if it wasn’t real. But I can’t hide from my past anymore, and I don’t want to.”
I think about what Travis said, that I was the only person who had the power to talk about my experiences. The center doesn’t define me, but it is part of my history—a part of me.
My mom finally drops a tear and wipes it away quickly. “I support you, Jasmine. You mean the world to me—to us. Travis is so proud of you.”
Hearing that makes my heart swell. Still, I have to ask: “Are you?”
“I’m proud and I’m embarrassed that I’m crying in this car.”
“Yeah, that’s definitely embarrassing,” I say, laughing a little.
She breaks into a nervous smile and slaps my hand. “You think we can really start over? Or is it a dub or whatever you kids say?”
“Eww, please, Mom,” I say. “Where did you even hear that?”
She shrugs. “A meme or something.”
“I always feel like I’m going to disappoint you. I don’t know how to start over without that feeling. I just want to be honest,” I say.
“I think that’s the right place to start. Thank you for telling me.” She wraps her arms around me. When we pull away, we’re both smiling.
“Now, let’s get these donuts,” she says, opening her door. “Oh, and you can finish telling me how confronting Amari went.”
I groan.
“And if I need to go over there and talk to her!” she finishes before heading inside the bakery.
I take a seat near the entrance. My mom laughs with the man at the counter, and it’s nice to see her that way after talking to me. I smile at the thought of her yelling at Amari.
Even though we don’t have the best track record for fresh starts, this feels different. I think she wants one for herself and one for us. I want the same thing. We’re finally okay with being bad at things out loud and that might just be what works this time. Who knows.
On the ride home, my mom sings along with the radio the way she used to, and I laugh at how off pitch she is. When we pull up to the house, she turns to me.
“What?” I ask suspiciously.
“What’s Deanna up to?”
“I don’t know … why?”
She pauses dramatically. “Go see,” she says. “Take the car.”
“Wait, what?”
She opens her door. “Come on, before I change my mind! You deserve a safe joyride,” she says.
I cover my mouth in shock and shriek through my hands. “Really?”
“Yes, girl, I’ll finally let Kayla do the supervising!” She grabs the box of donuts from the back seat as I make my way to the driver’s side. “Safely, Jasmine! Remember what Travis taught you,” she says, and heads toward the house.
Kayla throws the front door open, blows a dramatic kiss, and runs to the car. It feels good that she seems excited for me too.
“I will, Mom. Thanks for trusting me!” I call out, starting the car. Though I’ve had my permit for about a month, my mom never let me drive with anyone but her.
“Wish us luck!” Kayla yells.
My mom waves but doesn’t turn around. I think she’s too nervous to watch.
Kayla puts her seat back and tells me to pretend she isn’t there. “Enjoy it, sis. You deserve it.”
I linger at the Stop sign. No one is behind me, and I want to find the right song before I start driving again. I connect my phone to the car and put my playlist on shuffle. “Good to Me” by H.E.R. starts pouring through the speakers.
Wanna try, I wanna thrive
Not just survive, no fakin’
I can’t wait to see Deanna and decide to just surprise her. She’s going to freak out when she sees me behind the wheel. I love how contagious her excitement is, and I’m so glad I still get to share it with her—that she still wants to share it with me.
I belt the lyrics without a care in the world, off-key like my mom. Kayla snickers but maintains her silence.
A car pulls up behind me and I take a deep breath before I drive off. I think about the way things are working themselves out, proof that my past can’t define me if I don’t let it, and that people will listen if I ask them to.
I turn the music up to enjoy the rest of my very first drive on the real first day of my fresh start. I hope the pieces keep fitting right where they belong.