“Thomas.”
“Yeah, they’ve been together since I was in middle school.”
“Does Thomas appear in your fantasies?”
Shit!
“He has, from time to time,” I admitted. I was embarrassed and regretted being so cocky with him earlier.
“Tell me about your parents. Not what they do. Tell meaboutthem.”
“About them?”
“Yes, Miss Genealogy, keeper of peace.” His smile was warm and friendly.
“Ohhh!Aboutthem.” I’m such an idiot.
“My mother was born in America, and I have her side of the family traced back nine generations. Her mother’s side is from England, and her father’s side is German.”
“Good, Salem,” he praised. For some weird reason, it felt really good hearing him say that. “How about your father’s side?”
I couldn’t help but let my shoulders sag a bit, and I didn’t feel like I had to hide my frustration.
“I’m not nearly as far along with his side. He’s not around for me to ask questions. So I had very little information to go off of.”
“What are the circumstances that prevent you from seeing him or speaking to him?”
“He’s dead. I was in kindergarten when he died.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I imagine that was very hard on you, especially being so young when he passed.”
“I remember crying for days.”
“Do you remember him?”
“I do. But I only have a few memories of him. I was so little, and I didn’t get to see him a lot. He was in the military and was stationed overseas.”
“Did he die while serving in the military?”
“He did. He was a helicopter pilot.”
“Do you think your mother is ashamed of your father?”
Was she?
I sat quietly while I gave his question some thought. I didn’t think she was.
Or was she?
“I don’t know. I didn’t think she was, but now that you mention it, it has me thinking.”
“Is there anything that’s sticking out to you? Maybe something she said or did that makes you second guess?”
When we moved!
“Yeah! Now that you mention it, there was something. It made me so angry. When she took me to my new high school after we moved to Beverly Hills, she had me registered as Salem Jones instead of Salem Jones-Martinez,” I revealed.
“Is your mother’s last name Jones?” I nodded my response to his question. “Martinez is your father’s last name.” I nodded again, even though he hadn’t asked. “Tell me about your friends.”
