I hug her tight. “I know, baby. I know.”
“Why doesn’t he like me?”
“Oh, Junie. Sweetheart.”
“Don’t tell me he likes me, Mom. Don’t lie to me.”
I squeeze her tighter.
Her fathershouldlike her, but I can’t make him. Neither can she.
“Am I going to do it, too, one day?” she asks. “Am I going to pick a man who’s a total narcissistic asshole too? You did it. Grandma did it. Am I doomed, Mom? Or should I just figure out how to be happy alone? Can I skip ahead to that part?”
“Absolutely.”
“Mom.”
“You can. And youshouldlike yourself first. Junie. You are the strongest, bravest, smartest, kindest person I know. And I am so proud of you. I know what it took to look your own father in the eye and tell him you deserve better. Andyou do. Do you have any idea how many people wouldn’t have the strength to do that? You’resixteen. And you’re taking a stand for yourself. I wish I’d had half your bravery and confidence when I was your age. You’re gonna kill it in adulthood, sweetie. You will absolutely slay.”
“Don’t sayslay, Mom,” she grumbles.
“Aww, there’s my teenager. I missed you.”
She eyeballs me.
I know that eyeball.
That’s the eyeball ofI got your password for your doorbell app, and I know what you’ve been doing, and I don’t think you missed me at all.
Or possibly my overactive imagination, guilt complex, and coming down off the adrenaline that’s gotten me across the country today are wearing me down.
“Can you put your clothes on?” she says.
“Yes! Of course. Absolutely. Want to order takeout and watch a movie? Our flight’s early tomorrow, but we have all night—”
“Mom.”
I sigh.
She’s not crying anymore.
And she’s staring at me like she knows there are things I’m not telling her, even if she picks me and wants to come home with me. “I ... went on a few dates with Coach Jackson while you were gone, but I won’t—it’s not going to work. He’s a professional, and we’re both adults. This won’t impact you at school or on the soccer team at all. I just want to be honest with you, and I want you to know that you come first. Always. For me, you willalwayscome first. And I willneverput myself in a position to miss a call from you again. Okay?”
She stares at me for a long time. My towel is slipping, but even if it fell off, I don’t think I’d feel more naked than I feel right now.
Maybe Ishouldlet it drop.
Then I’d be embarrassed enough to let myself cry over this too.
Later.I’ll mournlater.
“Thanks, Mom,” she finally says softly. Then she shoves my clothes at me. “Now go get dressed. I don’t want to see you naked.”
So.
That’s that.
My daughter knows I won’t be the same kind of asshole her father is, and she’s worth it.
