That was it? I want to say to her. All of this, the whole year, was because you felt your mother didn’t want you?

Shan is going back to Detroit on Monday. I have mixed emotions about this.

But there’s no time to sit around and delve into them, because Shan and I have decided to create a crash course/montage of our time together. We’re going to start our Sunday at our favorite coffee house, shop the best Jewish stores that Detroit is sorely lacking, head to our favorite pizza store — not Stuffed Crusts — and then drive over to American Dream Mall for ice skating and some major candy haul.

I crimp my hair for our special outing, wear my cutest sweater (with the big flowers splashed all over in shades of blue), and pull on the lace boots I copied from Shan. She won’t mind, and besides, we’re no longer going to be living in the same state.

She beeps, I grab my Lulu, yell out a “Bye, love you!” to Ma, and jump in the car.

She looks great, Shan. Pretty and healthy and there’s a sparkle in her eyes I don’t think I’ve seen since camp.

That was it? I want to say to her. All of this, the whole year, was because you felt your mother didn’t want you?

And I want to mock it, I want to belittle the need to have your mother’s affections when I’ve felt so distant from mine for so long, but I have to admit I get it. This newfound closeness with Ma gives me a sense of confidence I haven’t felt in a long, long time. A sense of security. Of attachment.

Shan hugs me; I hug her back tightly.

“Shhhhaaaan!” I say, my eyes tearing.

She sniffs and we laugh.

“No crying,” I say strictly. “Fun only.”

She salutes. “Yes, sir, captain, sir!”