She chuckles at me and rolls her eyes. “I’m kidding. I’ll have a regular coffee; milk and sugar is just fine.”
I want to laugh. I should laugh, but instead I just walk away.
I walk over to order our drinks and my gaze drifts back to her sitting at the table. She’s got her phone in her hands and the furious pace at which her thumbs are moving suggests that she must be texting someone. I didn’t realize that a person’s thumbs could even move that quickly!
She puts her phone away as I sit back down. I slide her coffee across to her and the tension returns.
“So,” I say.
“So,” she responds.
At this pace, we’ll be sitting here until tomorrow. I take a deep breath and dive right in.
“I don’t want to be rude, well actually I do, but I won’t. You’re the one who’s been calling me, who’s got something to say to me, so if you don’t start talking, then there’s really no point in me being here.” I take a sip of my still too hot coffee and lean back in my chair. Folding my arms across my chest, I wait for her to respond.
It takes a few seconds, but finally she starts talking. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I am the one who wanted to talk and here I am all clammed up. I actually sat in the parking lot for about fifteen minutes before I came in. I just don’t know where to start.” She rubs her hands over her thighs in a nervous gesture.
She sips her coffee and leans forward on her elbows. “Can I ask you something first?” I arch an eyebrow at her. She stalks me for months – okay, stalks might be a bit strong, but I’m sticking with it – causes all sorts of a fallout with Maddy – fine, it’s not entirely her fault, but, like a tantrum ridden two year old, I’m sticking to that one too – and now she wants me to answer her questions.
She looks at me pleadingly and says, “It’ll help me figure out where to start.” She’s nervously fidgeting with the string on her hoodie, twisting it around her finger until it turns white under the pressure. I decide to cut her some slack. Besides, my interested is piqued now. What does she mean “where to start?” What the hell does she know?
I don’t say anything. I just look at her and nod, indicating that she can continue.
Her eyes meet mine and I see a deep swirl of emotions – sadness, concern, unease. Her voice cracks, but she clears her throat and finally asks her question. “When is the last time you spoke with your mom?”
I work hard to suppress the rage I feel at her question. For all intents and purposes, this girl sitting across from me is a perfect stranger and she wants to delve into my dark past. Fuck no!
She must see my jaw clench and my neck bulge at swallowing back my anger. Steeling herself against my reaction, her spine stiffens and she sits up straight in her chair.
“It’s been four years since I left.” I spit my words venomously at her.
I can see her working out what to say now that she knows how long it’s been. What the hell could she have to tell me? It’s taking her way too long and my frustration is definitely getting the best of me. I lean forward across the small table and angrily whisper through a clenched jaw, “Tell me what the fuck is going on, Katelyn, or else I’m going to walk out of here and never talk to you again. She can die and you can go on your merry way knowing that you had me here and you blew it.” I guess I couldn’t keep my inner asshole buried for too long.
I retreat to my side of the table and look at her expectantly. She’s got one minute to start making sense.
She steadies herself and says, “Your mom is married to my dad.” What? There’s no way on earth I just heard her correctly.
With a tone of mocking disbelief, I say, “I’m sorry, but did you just say that our parents aremarried? You’re going to have to explain that one, Katelyn.” My words drip sarcasm and she actually recoils from them.
She’s not reacting well to my disbelief. “Why would I lie? Don’t you think this is really difficult for me too? I’m just trying to do the right thing here and you’re being so mean to me.” Her voice is wobbling with emotion. I can hear it; she’s on the verge of tears. There’s something about her that reminds me so much of Maddy that almost instantly, I soften to her enough to let her carry on.
“Okay, fine. I’m sorry, Katelyn. I just…well I just don’t know anything and I’m not a huge fan of my parents and this is all…well it’s all a trip down memory lane that I really don’t want to be on.” My words must help put her at ease because I see her shoulders relax and her eyes soften marginally.
“Katie. You can call me Katie.” Her composure is back and she seems more comfortable now that I’m not being such an ass.
“Now, can you please clarify how my mother, who, the last time I checked, was married to my father, is now married to your father?” I can be less of an ass, but I doubt I’ll ever be able to conceal my sarcastic disbelief.
“I don’t know much about your dad actually. Your mom never talks about him, at least not to me. I’ve overheard some conversations between her and my dad about him, but I try not to eavesdrop. It’s none of my business really.” She lifts her coffee to her lips and I can see the cup shaking in her hand.
I don’t really know how to feel about this. My parents are divorced and neither of them thought to let me know. That’s pretty shitty of them to say the least.
Wait, I’m just assuming they’re divorced. What if something happened to him? I’m not sure how to feel about that either.
My eyes widen a little at the thought of my dad being dead. Would that make me happy? His true colors really shone through when he kicked Shane out and how he reacted to his suicide.
I’m just going to have to find out then. “So are they divorced then? My parents, I mean.”
She seems confused by my seemingly ridiculous question. “Of course they are. They have been for the last three years. Your mom met my dad shortly after she left your dad and they’ve been together ever since. It took him a while to introduce her to me. I was only a sophomore in high school at the time and he hadn’t been with anyone since my mom died a few years before that. I think he was scared that their relationship would damage me in some way.”
