The People We Choose by Katelyn Detweiler (best selling autobiographies .TXT) 📕

Mama frowns. “Would you both rather I was incapable of showing genuine emotion? On my one and only little girl’s graduation day? Am I that much of a robot?”

“Of course not,” Mimmy says, looking over at us with a wide grin. “I’m always relieved to be reminded that you’re human, just like the rest of us.”

Mama sniffs. “For today, anyway. Don’t go getting used to it or anything.”

“We’ll see about that. Wait until Calliope actually leaves us. That will be even harder.” Mimmy’s grin fades at her words.

“Um, excuse me,” I say, and now I’m the one squeezing Mama’s hand tight. “This is a happy day. We’re celebrating, remember? We have a whole summer before I go anywhere, and Penn State is only a few hours away. You’ll barely even miss me.”

Mama grunts in response, and Mimmy turns back to her icing.

“You’ll be busy with the studio like always.” I stare down at the counter, spinning a spoon in circles with my free hand. “And you know, Elliot and Joanie and Marlow are always right there across the woods. I’m sure they’d still like to hang out, even if I’m not around.”

I try to say it casually, like the thought is just now occurring to me. But I’ve been wondering about this for months now—what Max and I leaving will do to this delicate patchwork family unit we’ve been working on so hard since last summer. It hasn’t always been easy. His family has its own deeply rooted issues. Those haven’t magically gone away. And Mama’s been tough at points, as Mama tends to be. But they’ve been trying. We all have. Max and Marlow and I are the core, though. This collective family revolves around us. What happens when you take two of us away?

Mama lets out a long, weary sigh, and my stomach twists. Maybe I misread all the interactions this last year. Maybe the adults were just playing nice.

Maybe family was all in my head.

I look up at Mama slowly, not sure what to say from here—and am instantly relieved to see the small smile playing at her lips.

“You do realize,” she says, shaking her head emphatically at me, “this is absolutely the last thing I ever wanted. Frank, having any role whatsoever in my daughter’s life.”

“I know.”

“And not just Frank, but his whole damn family. You have a half brother and a half sister, for god’s sake, living across the woods from us like we’re in some awful reality TV show compound. I mean, of all people in the entire world—our neighbors. Our neighbors, Calliope!”

“I know, Mama, yes, but—”

She cuts me off. “And the funny thing is, I wouldn’t want it any other way. Not anymore. This setup we have here?” Mama points her free hand toward the window, the woods that separate us from the Jackson house. “It feels right.”

Mimmy turns toward us and drops the spatula she’s been using on the floor.

“You really mean that?” I ask, stunned. “It’s not just graduation day emotions talking?”

“Well,” Mama says, chuckling, “these wretched sappy emotions aren’t hurting the cause. But I’ve felt this way for a while now. Don’t get me wrong—Elliot is far from perfect. He’s got a long way to go. But he’s working on himself, isn’t he? Marriage counseling. Therapy. Staying put, at home where he belongs. His heart is in the right place, I do believe that. And he’s been good to you. Even good for you, maybe. And all his personal failures aside, I do love the rest of his family. He did something right, at least.”

“Is this really my wife talking?” Mimmy asks. She takes a few steps toward us. “I’ve never heard you speak like this. Did you drink enough water today? Is your blood sugar low?”

“Wow. I try to be open and vulnerable for once,” Mama grumbles, dropping my hand, “and this is what I get from my—”

Mimmy throws her arms around Mama, squeezing the air out of the rest of her sentence. “No, no, I absolutely adore this new side of you. I hope she sticks around. Because I agree.” She reaches out and grabs my wrist, tugs me over to their side of the counter. “Calliope was meant to find her people. Our people.”

I smile as I step into their hug, wrapping my arms around their shoulders. “So that was a long-winded way of saying you’ll still be friends with them after I go?”

“Well, no. I can’t promise Elliot and I will be friends necessarily,” Mama says.

I start to pull back, confused, but she latches on tighter.

“We’ll be family,” Mama finishes. “And that’s what matters most.”

The three of us are quiet then. I close my eyes and breathe in the smell of Mimmy’s tropical cake in the air, feel their arms pressing firmly against my back. The sun streaming in the window is bright and warm against my eyelids. This moment feels better than graduation. More important.

“Okay,” Mama says finally, letting go of both of us as she wipes at a fresh wave of tears. “Enough of this. Let’s get to dinner. I need to eat my feelings away with those burgers that Elliot always chars to ash. I ate them quietly last year, when I was still playing nice. But now? Nope. I’m teaching that man to grill, mark my words.”

We step out from the woods into the Jackson meadow, and my breath hitches. The transformation still surprises me every time.

The grass is green and thick and freshly mowed, and the hedges surrounding the house are trimmed into neat rectangles. Orange marigolds and red geraniums spring up from small flower beds on either side of the porch steps. Porch steps that are strong and stable now—and freshly painted along with the rest of the porch, the front door, the window trim. The windows themselves are clean and shiny in the sunlight. The porch roof is fixed, no longer on the brink of collapse.

The Jackson house is a home again.

If Max’s grandmother ever really