The Distance Between Us

know. It’s cute.” I clear my throat and fork a swirling pattern in my potatoes before looking at my mom.
    “Thanks for running the store today. I got caught up in paperwork up here.”
    “It’s okay.”
    “You know I appreciate you, right?”
    I shrug. “It’s no big deal.”
    “It is to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
    “I think you’d own lots of cats.”
    “Really? You think I’d be a cat lady?”
    I nod slowly. “Yeah. That or nutcrackers.”
    “What? Nutcrackers? I don’t even like nuts.”
    “You don’t have to like nuts to own lots of wide-mouthed wooden dolls.”
    “So you think without you that I’d have a completely different personality and like cats and/or nutcrackers?”
    Without me she’d have a completely different life. She’d have probably gone to college and got married, not been disowned by her parents. “Well, yeah. Hello. Without me in your life you’d have no humor or love. You’d be a sad, sad woman.”
    She laughs again. “So true.” She places her fork on her plate and stands. “Are you done?”
    “Yes.”
    She picks up my plate and puts it on top of hers but not before I notice that she hardly ate anything. At the sink she quickly rinses the plates.
    “Mom, you cooked. I’ll clean.”
    “Okay, thanks, sweetie. I think I’m going to go read in bed.”
    It takes me only about twenty minutes to clean up. On the way to my room I poke my head in my mom’s room to say good night. An open book lies on her chest and she’s fast asleep. She really was tired today. Maybe she had gotten up early, like she said, to work out or something then went back to sleep. I close her book, put it on her nightstand, and turn off her light.

Chapter 4

    A s I walk into the doll store the next day after school, I’m surprised to see a man standing at the counter. He’s wearing dark clothes and has a dark, shortly trimmed beard and a dark tan. Yes, there is definitely a dark theme going on. He seems to exude it, and yet my mom’s cheeks are pink and she’s smiling. When the bell on the door rings, they both look over at me.
    “Hi, Caymen,” my mom says.
    “Hi.”
    “Well, see you around, Susan,” the strange man says.
    My mom nods.
    He leaves, and I say, “Who was that?” I tuck my backpack beneath the register. “Alex?”
    “Who’s Alex?”
    “The guy who’s supposed to pick up Mrs. Dalton’s doll.”
    “Oh no, it was just a customer.”
    Right. I watch him walk by the front window. A single man in his forties is a customer. I almost say as much when she says, “I’m glad you’re here. I have to run a couple things to the post office before one.” She picks up two boxes and a stack of envelopes and heads toward the back door. “Oh, and Mrs. Dalton’s doll is in the back.”
    “Okay, see you later.”
    The front door opens and I look up half expecting to see my mom’s “customer” walk back in, but I’m greeted by a broody Henry. I don’t know if he took a shower or if carrying a guitar case actually does make a guy appear more attractive than he is, but either way, it’s suddenly a little more apparent what Skye sees in him.
    “Hey, Caveman.”
    Ugh. He probably forgot my real name. “Hi, Toad. Skye’s not here.”
    “I know. I was hoping I could play you a song I wrote for her. Let me know if you think she’ll like it.”
    “Okay. Sure.”
    He sits on the floor and takes out his guitar. He leans against a lower cabinet, stretching out and crossing his legs in front of him. The dolls on the lit glass shelves above him and the wooden cradle next to him make this look like the setting for some trippy music video. He strums a few chords then clears his throat and sings.
    The song is pretty good, bordering on cheesy. The line about how without Skye he would die makes me want to laugh, but I manage to hold it in. But by the end of the song I completely understand what Skye sees in him. I’m pretty sure I’m staring at him dreamily myself. So when the sound of someone clapping breaks the after-song silence, my cheeks go hot.
    Xander is standing by the front door. He looks even richer today. The look consists of perfectly styled hair, designer clothes, and Gucci leather loafers with no socks.
    “Great song,” he says to Henry.
    “Thanks.” Then Henry looks at me for verification.
    “Yeah, it was awesome.”
    He takes a breath of relief then puts his guitar away. I turn my attention to Xander.
    “I’ve been sent on another