her brown skin smooth and lax.
“Hey, Momma,” Taryn said quietly, hoping not to startle her.
Her mother turned her head and smiled at Taryn. “Hey, baby. Sorry I missed you last night. I guess I was more tired than I thought.”
Relief loosened some of Taryn’s muscles. Her mother looked sad, but clear-eyed and calm. “No problem. I’m glad you got some rest.” She held up the plate. “Daddy said you weren’t up to having dinner, but I thought you might want some to nibble on.”
Her mom tsked. “I appreciate that, honey, but don’t bring that in here. The whole place will smell like fish. Nia hates fish. Leave it on the table out there, and I’ll get some in a little while.”
Taryn’s stomach dropped. “Hated, Momma, not hates.”
Her mother’s lips pressed together, a sharpness coming into her gaze. “I’m sure she still hates it in heaven, too, and wouldn’t appreciate us stinking up her room with it.”
“Right,” Taryn said and set the food and soda on the table in the hallway before stepping inside the bedroom. “So how are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” her mom said, tone clipped. “Did your father send you up here to check on me? I told him not to worry. It’s just been a tough day.”
Taryn sat on the edge of the bed, almost afraid to put her weight on it and disturb anything. Her mother liked everything in the room to be kept just right. “Yes, I’m sure Daddy sent me up here to check on you, but I also just wanted to see you. He told me you saw the documentary.”
Her mom smoothed a hand along the arm of the rocking chair and nodded. “They did a good job with it.” She glanced at Taryn. “You did well, too.”
Taryn looked down at her lap. “Thanks. I don’t think I’ll ever watch it. You probably shouldn’t have either. It’s not good for you to—”
“Can you believe they interviewed that Miller woman?” her mother asked, vitriol in her voice. “How dare she even set foot on those grounds again? What her son did…” Her mother made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “And you should’ve heard the things she said. Acting like she had nothing to do with how her kid turned out. Like it was just a bad roll of the dice.”
“Momma…”
“That’s such bull,” she spat out. “You know it, baby. You do all that research. There were things those parents could’ve done. She just doesn’t want anyone pointing fingers. She got out of those lawsuits with that excuse. Bad genetics, my rear end.” Her fingers balled. “It just makes me so angry. She raised a killer, maybe two, based on the stories I heard about the brother a few years ago. Don’t act like a victim. How about taking some responsibility? Makes me want to sue her myself.”
Taryn blew out a breath, stood, and put a hand on her mom’s shoulder. “This is why you shouldn’t watch things like that.”
She turned to Taryn, brown eyes ablaze, and put her hand over her daughter’s. “You’re going to show her, and everyone else. When you get your program in schools, people are going to see the difference it makes. This could’ve been prevented. We didn’t have to lose Nia or all those other children. The world needs to know that.”
Taryn gave a little nod. “I know, Momma. I’m almost there. The program is ready to go. I present to the school board on Thursday.”
“Thank you, Jesus,” her mother said softly. “That’s my brilliant girl. I knew you’d do it.”
Taryn looked up, finding her mom fully focused on her. The effect was like sunlight warming her skin. After so many years of seeing her mom struggle, she cherished these moments when her mom was totally present with her. Seeing her get angry was better than seeing her wallow in despair and anxiety.
Taryn put her other hand on top of their clasped ones. “I told you I would. I just need the school board to say yes now. One of the members all but assured me it would get approved.”
Tears filled her mother’s eyes. “Your sister would be so proud of you, baby.”
Taryn’s throat felt stuffed with cotton so she simply nodded.
Her mother put a hand on Taryn’s face, her palm cool against her cheek. “How about we go downstairs and have some dinner with your dad? It’s not very nice of us to make him cook and then let him eat alone.”
Taryn smiled. “What you really mean is that you’re afraid he’s going to eat all the fish and forget to leave some for us.”
“Exactly.”
Taryn helped her mother out of the chair and glanced at the wall covered with theater bills—the wall she’d shared with her sister. The wall Nia had tapped on when Taryn sang and played guitar. She could still picture herself and her sister sitting in this room and talking about nothing and everything. It was as though she was looking at a scene out of someone else’s life. Maybe she was. That life had died along with Nia.
* * *
Later that night, Taryn took a long sip of coffee, her belly still full from dinner with her parents, and stared at the wall of her home office. Over the last couple of years, she’d covered the blank wall opposite her desk with floor-to-ceiling cork and had turned it into a massive bulletin board. On it, small black-and-white photos of school shooters were spread out like a map, red strings connecting them to different points on her diagram. It was her masterpiece—and also the most depressing office artwork ever.
Her eyes were getting blurry with the need for sleep, but she lifted her glasses to rub them and wake herself up. Only a little longer. After her talk with her mom, she was determined to get this school-board presentation perfect.