“I don’t, Bellini. I should know. He told me, and I forgot. It was a new company, he told me. High-level technology. I remember that part. The rest was above my head.”
“Do you have the letters he wrote to you? There would be a last name on those.”
She waved a hand. “No, Bellini, I don’t. I threw them away. I had you, and you were all I needed.”
And that was that. I let it go. I have uncles because of my mother’s sisters’ husbands. They are all jovial, hardworking people who reached out and gave me the father figures I needed. I loved my grandfather, Cecil, too, and my grandma, Dot. I was surrounded by cousins. I hardly noticed I didn’t have a dad. So, I let it go.
But now and then, I wondered…
Maybe one day I’d do a DNA test.
Not yet.
Not now.
Now all I could think about was Logan.
“How are you? It’s good to see you both again,” Mrs. Kerns said to Logan and me. We met at her home, where she has a studio in her daylight basement. She’s about five feet, two inches tall. Her hair is white, her spine is straight, her voice is firm. She wore a blue dance outfit.
“We’re well, ma’am,” Logan said. “It’s good to see you, too.”
“Hello, Mrs. Kerns,” I said. “Thank you for working with us.” It was like I was in high school all over again. She’s strict and sort of scary, and I knew we had to please her.
“Have you been practicing?” she demanded.
I hadn’t danced since Logan and I broke up.
“No, ma’am,” Logan said.
“No, ma’am,” I said.
Her voice registered her displeasure and disappointment. She crossed her arms and tapped her fingers. “That is unfortunate. Dance should have been a part of your lives.” Her tone was reprimanding. “I thought I taught both of you better than that.” She hmphed, then said, “So, you’re going to dance at the burlesque show? I signed up, too.”
“I saw that,” I said, grateful to momentarily escape her disappointment. “Thank you, Mrs. Kerns. I can’t wait to see you dance again.”
“I’m going to surprise everyone.”
“What are you going to do?” Logan asked.
“If I told you, young man,” she clipped out, “it wouldn’t be a surprise now, would it?” She arched a brow.
I was glad that Logan, and not me, was on the receiving end of that arched eyebrow. Kids everywhere in Kalulell fear that arched eyebrow.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“All right, you two. What do you have in mind for Lady Whiskey’s Tits and Ass Christmas Burlesque Show dance?”
“It’s T fortinseland A forAllI Want for Christmas Is Santa.” My voice petered out. Why did my mother do this to me? TheT and AChristmas show?
“Please, Bellini,” Mrs. Kerns rapped out. “I know your mother well. We’ve been friends for decades.”
Dang it! Now she was givingmethe arched eyebrow. Frightening! I snuck a peek at Logan. He was arching an eyebrow at me, and I almost laughed, but didn’t because I didn’t want to get in trouble with Mrs. Kerns.
“I followed that link you sent out for the dating show for older people,Marry Me, and I nominated her to be the next bachelorette,” Mrs. Kerns said. “When I talked to her the other day about her stolen uterus, she said she was getting better.”
“She’s getting better. She loved your Italian soup. Thank you for making it for her. She said it strengthened her bones and calmed her estrogen levels.”
I could tell that Logan was trying not to laugh. “She did say that,” I whispered to him.
