Remember Yesterday

39

“Come on, Mom. Where are you?” I mutter the next morning, spinning on my heel to march down the apartment once more. “Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind.”

I had a holo-conference with her last night, filling her in on the day’s events. She already knew about Olivia’s kidnapping, but when I told her about how Dresden locked me up and I thought Callie had died, she cried along with me.

“She’s not dead,” I gasped. “I want you to know that. She’s stable, at least for the time being. But I thought she was. Mom, they were the most horrible hours of my life.”

“Of course it was, dear heart. Of course it was.” She reached out her arms to embrace me. We were on a holo-call, so of course I couldn’t feel her. But I closed my eyes and pretended I did.

But then came the hard part. The part when I had to tell her about Preston.

With halting words, I laid out the facts, as clearly and simply as I could. When I finished, she had become so still I could’ve mistaken her for a powered-off bot.

“Say something,” I pleaded. “Please.”

“He’s still thirty-one years old? Is he…well?” Even her voice sounded like a bot’s, flat and unemotional.

“Yes. Worried about you and Callie, but otherwise well.”

“That’s good.” Her voice got softer and softer. She was shutting down.

“You can’t pretend this isn’t happening, Mom. You have to see him. And soon. You’re the only way we have of saving Callie.”

She didn’t say much for the rest of the conversation. Didn’t move much, either. But I got her to agree to come to us in the morning. She also confirmed she had been recording her memories every day for the last twenty-three years, without fail. The sights, sounds, and smells. What she thought, how she felt. As complete a record as possible of that moment in time. She did it, every single night, although she never mentioned it. Not once.

I begin my hundredth trek across the apartment. Everything is proceeding according to plan—if you ignore my mom’s faint voice and my dad’s uncontrollable jitters. Even my stomach flops around like a fish on land.

And then, the floor vibrates. Someone’s here.

But it’s Tanner and not my mother who walks through the door. “Your mom’s in my apartment. She wants to talk to you.”

“What about?” I ask automatically. Some mothers and daughters talk every day. Not us. Our talks—the real ones that involve actual thoughts and genuine emotions—are more like the once-in-a-comet variety.

“She didn’t say. But she’s not budging until she sees you.”

Nodding, I look over my shoulder. Preston’s nowhere to be seen. The door to his sleeping area is sealed shut. I have the bizarre feeling I’m playing matchmaker. For my parents. Who are separated in time by more than two decades.

I take a deep breath. “Okay. Lead the way.”

When I walk into the spare room of Tanner’s apartment, my mother is sitting in front of a mirror. A box of black data chips lies on the table in front of her—one chip for each year since my father left.

Her hand trembles as she dabs the concealer under her eyes. Most women in Eden City get their blemishes removed—but not my mom. She’s always been proud of her age. When I was little, she would tell me bedtime stories using the lines on her face.

“These were the lines that were born when your father left,” she would say, pointing to the wrinkles around her mouth. “And these lines formed in the first year of your life.” She would indicate the three crow’s feet that radiated from her eyes. “You made me laugh and laugh, my darling bunny. With your little expressions, your little hands. You filled me with so much joy I almost forgot to feel sad.” She would pull me close, the conclusion of the story a whisper across my cheeks.

Now, she holds the eyeliner applicator to her face—for those women who opt not to tattoo—but her hand shakes so much the machine won’t lock and draw a straight line. After three times, she slams down the applicator. “What am I doing? I’m fifty years old. I’m not going to be able to hide that fact. I don’t want to hide it. I shouldn’t have to.” She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, quickly. Breaths to refill a rapidly dwindling supply of oxygen rather than to maintain the even flow of life.

“Mom.” I move forward and pick up the applicator. “You look beautiful.”

I position the applicator over her eye. The machine beeps, records an image of her eye, and then draws a precise, perfect line along her lash. I repeat the process with the other eye.

“Thank you,” she says in a tone I’ve never heard.

That’s when I realize in all the years since I’ve returned, we’ve never had a moment like this. Our natural mode of communication was arguing, and I never spoke to her without rolling my eyes or yelling.

Shame spreads through me. I resented her for staying in civilization, for refusing to move to the Harmony compound with me. And now, because she did, we might be able to save Callie. At the very least, I owe her an apology.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say in a low voice. “I was so mad at you for abandoning me, but now, I’m so grateful you made that decision. So grateful.” I look into the mirror, searching for her eyes. When I find them, hers fill with tears.

“That was the only reason I could’ve let you go. I want you to know that, Jessa. It wasn’t because I was waiting for your father to return. It was because I was hoping this day would come. The day that Callie’s life depended on me staying where I was.”

My breath catches. “You knew? This whole time, you knew we would come to this point in time? But how? Did you receive a message from the future?”

“Something like that.” In the mirror, she moves her shoulders. “So much time had passed, I’d almost given up hope. Now, I’m so glad I didn’t.”

I turn her to face me. For this conversation, I don’t want anything between us, not even a reflective surface.

“I didn’t know the exact circumstances, but I was told in no uncertain terms that someday, I would need to act as an anchor to save my daughter’s life.” Her voice scrapes every bit of sinew and emotion from my heart. “I had to do it, Jessa. I had to save Callie’s life, even if it meant sacrificing your welfare.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper. “Explain the situation so I wouldn’t have been so mad? So I could understand a little bit?”

“I couldn’t. You were so young, but more than that, I didn’t want to mess up the future chain of events. Fate is a tricky thing, Jessa. If you knew, I was afraid things wouldn’t have unfolded the way they were supposed to. I was afraid I would jeopardize Callie’s life, after everything we’ve sacrificed to save her.”

“I was so cold to you.” I duck my head, not looking at her. Not looking at my reflection. “All these years.”

She cups my chin and tilts it up. “I don’t blame you. Rightly or wrongly, I did abandon you. No matter the reason, I did it, and I have to suffer the consequences of that action. I knew what I was doing, Jessa. I knew exactly what my choice entailed, and I would make the same decision again.” She tries to smile, but her eyes won’t obey. “Doesn’t mean I’ll ever forgive myself. That’s why I was always so restrained with you. I knew you hated me, and you had every right in the world.”

I hug her, wrapping my arms around her neck, probably messing up the makeup I had just so carefully applied. “Oh, Mom. I don’t hate you. I love you. I always have. I just didn’t know how to show it.” I pull back and look at the fine lines decorating her face. How many of them did I put there? “This wasn’t easy for either of us. I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.”

She laughs, and it’s like a flashlight cutting through a tunnel of sludge. Hope slicing through a world of despair. “I would take years of you yelling at me for a moment like this.”

The tears push at my eyes, but they don’t come out. Instead, they drop inside me, splattering onto my soul. “I’m sorry, Mom. I should’ve tried harder.”

“It’s a two-way street, Jessa. I should’ve tried harder, too.” She reaches out and fixes my collar, even though it doesn’t need fixing. “Especially because I knew you would forgive me someday.”

“How?”

“Your future self told me.” She gives me a stunning smile, one I haven’t seen since I’ve been back in civilization. “She told me it was never too late for love.”

I smile back. “She’s really smart. Just remember that when you see Dad.”

She stiffens, and the happiness drains from her face. “Is it time already?”

It was time twenty minutes ago, but I don’t mention that. “Yes.”

“How do I look?”

“Beautiful.” I help her to her feet, turning her from the mirror. The only image I want her to see is the one reflected in my eyes. “You look like the woman Preston loves, no matter what age he is. No matter what age you are.”

She doesn’t believe me. I can tell from the flush of her cheeks, from the straightness of her spine. She looks like a woman about to go into battle, not like one about to be reunited with the love of her life.

“Let’s do this,” she mutters.

I follow her out the door. The riots continue outside, and I’m about to journey to the past to save my sister. But at this moment, I only want what every little kid wants: my parents together and happy once more.