Tim watches her, concern flickering through his expression. He glances at me and swipes a hand across his mouth.
I lift a shoulder. “We could wait a bit. Just in case ...”
She whips her head to me. “Hello? Did you not hear anything I just said?” When we don’t respond, she pins Tim with an eye roll. “And don’t look at me like that.”
Her phone rings. She smirks when she scans the screen, then presses it to her ear and turns her back to us. “Hey, Dad.”
With a shrug, I follow Tim outside.
“Thank you for that,” he says quietly.
We walk in silence to the sidewalk, then take a left. Neither of us speaks for a long while. It feels nice, just walking. Makes it easier to shove down any unwelcome thoughts. When we reach the park, I stop where Henry sat before, outlining the empty space with the toe of my sandal.
“Your birthday’s coming up,” Tim says, pulling my gaze to him as he slips his hands into his pockets. He’s wearing grey slacks today, with a matching sweater vest layered on top of a white polo.
I nod. “March nineteenth.”
“So that means you’re ...” He glances at the sky like he’s thinking. “A Pisces. Of course.” He smiles. “Suits you.”
I laugh and tilt my head. “You’re into astrology?”
“I’m a little rusty now, but once upon a time ... Well, you know your mom. She got into astrology not long after we started seeing each other.”
“Will you tell me about it? How you met?”
He pauses, looking at a crack on the sidewalk. When he finds my gaze again, his eyes are soft, wistful. “Sure. Yeah, I’d like that actually.” He nods toward the bench a few feet away. “Sit with me?”
He sits on the right side, exhaling and clasping his hands together in his lap. I slink into the open spot beside him and fold my legs under me, a swarm of butterflies taking flight in anticipation. Never in a million years did I think I’d get to do this, to hear this, and fromhim.
Other than one exception—when I was nine, and Mom clearly said my dad didn’t want this life,ourlife—she never talks about him or how they met. Whenever I ask, she gets quiet, gazes into the sky, and murmurs something about how that part of her heart is no longer open to her.
I’ve tried to understand, and a piece of me does get it even without her explaining. But another piece of me, the one belonging to my dad, reminds me it isn’t just her heart involved in their story. I might feel the ache in a different way, but I feel it all the same.
“We were sixteen,” Tim says, staring at his hands. “My family didn’t have much growing up, so I guess you could say I stood out in this part of town.”
My brows shoot up. “Here? This is where you guys grew up?”
I always assumed Mom was a California girl, born and bred. But now that I think about it, she’s never outright said she was from there. I glance down, twisting the hem of my shirt between my fingers. Mom and I are so close, but it’s strange ... I guess I never realized she had this whole other life before I came along.
Tim looks at me and chuckles. “Yep. Burroughs High was my turf back in the day.” He winks, and I laugh. “No, I guess I should say it was Susie’s turf.” He lets out a sigh. “Your mom ... she was something else. Rich, popular, drop-dead gorgeous. She would take my breath away walking past me in the hall.”
Peeling my jaw off the floor isn’t easy. “I’m sorry. We are talking about the same Susan, aren’t we?” The drop-dead gorgeous part I totally get, but rich? Popular? Mom and I have always had to work hard for every penny we got, and she’s never subscribed to society’s typical standards of ... well, anything.
Tim chuckles again, and it’s uninhibited, his eyes clouding over like he’s lost in a memory. “Definitely the same Susie. Just at a different stage in her life. She was loud and bold, fearless. But there was always this quieter side to her too. That’s the side that got me first. I was secretly obsessed with her poems.”
“Okay,what?” Since when did Mom write poems?
“Yeah, she’s a hell of a writer. You didn’t know that?”
“Um, no, and by the way, I’m still not convinced we’re talking about the same person.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “I promise you, we are. You really do remind me of her. So much.” He scans my face. “Anyway, later down the line, I tried convincing her to major in English Lit, but you know Susie. College didn’t interest her.”
“Now, that part I totally get.” I pull my hair over one shoulder, a smile playing on my lips as I take in his expression. “So then what?”
“We started talking one day, and that was it. I was a goner. Even then, before she started exploring other sides of herself, she was always just ... Susie. Carefree, full of life.” He squints like he’s looking past me. “Spontaneous. I never knew what to expect.”
My smile slipped somewhere along the line. I can’t stop watching him, focusing on the countless emotions flickering through his features. There’s so much I’ll never fully know because I wasn’t part of their journey.
