“Portland PD,” sounds from the doorway. “Is anyone there?”
Hefting myself off the floor, I respond, “Yes, we’re in here.”
“You called the police?” Cassidy exclaims. “Why would you call the police?”
The police office gives her a questioning look as I respond, “We had reason to believe you might be in danger.”
“Who,” she responds rather tersely. “Is we?”
Conrad walks in the room. “That would be me.” He turns to the police, moving close and urging them to the doorway where he has a brief conversation then sends them off with a pat on the back and a handshake. He closes the door and turns back to us, walking into the room where he comes to a stop a few feet from Cassidy.
Cassidy glares at him, hands on her hips, foot tapping. “Why would either of you believe I was in danger?”
I go to respond, but Conrad puts his hand up, walks across the room until he’s standing in front of Cassidy. “Your mother is out.”
Cassidy’s expression immediately shifts to fear, her earlier offensive stance turning inward as she hugs her middle. Shadows cross her features, her eyes dimming with an odd vacancy I’ve witnessed a few times before. A shiver runs through her as she glances over her shoulder warily, even though she knows no one is behind her.
She is quite obviously terrified of this person, someone who has never even been mentioned to me. Suddenly, I am enraged. “Why was I never told of this?”
Cassidy turns her vacant eyes on me, but Conrad answers, “I didn’t thi—” and I cut him off, my words angry, “You didn’t think her husband should know she may be in danger someday?Didn’t think maybe it would be good information to have just in case something like this fucking happened, so I wouldn’t literally open the fucking door for the very person who might hurt her?”
Conrad looks at the ground, his lips pressed together because really, what can he say. Cassidy is watching me, her eyes slightly more focused, and then she mumbles, “The door?”
I close the distance between us, retrieve my phone from my jacket pocket, open the messages and bring up the image Conrad had sent me. Holding the phone so Cassidy can see the image I ask, “Does she look familiar?”
Cassidy scowls, shakes her head. “I-I-I don’t know. Should she?”
“Look closely, daughter.” Conrad’s words are urgent, his expression resigned. He stands next to her, takes the phone from my hand, holds it up to Cassidy’s face so he can look at them side-by-side. I take a good look, focusing on the eyes, the curve of her jaw, the highlight of her cheekbones.
The resemblance is undeniable.
Cassidy looks from her father to me and back again, her initial scowl quickly becoming panic. She rips the phone from Conrad’s grip, holds it only a few inches from her face as she stares intently at the screen. Her expression shifts rapidly; confusion, anger, sadness, realization.
“How would I not know my own mother?” she whispers, her features twisted in what looks like shock and disgust. “She was right in front of me, and I wasn’t the wiser.”
Conrad states, “You haven’t seen her in decades. And even when you did know her, you didn’t spend any real time with her.”
Her gaze lifts to his. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s a long story,” he mutters. “So much time has gone by.”
“Well, I got time,” I retort. “And Cassidy deserves to know the full story so she can make decisions on her own now that she’s an adult.”
Conrad sighs heavily, his hands swiping over his face. “I thought with therapy and time,” Conrad drifts off, his eyes on Cassidy who’s barely holding it together. “I truly thought the demons were gone.”
Cassidy’s face twists, her eyes welling, overflowing. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out but a low sob. Conrad takes a step toward her, his arms lifting, but she jumps back, hands in front of her defensively, so I jump between them, pushing him back.
His eyes lock with mine, hold steady. “Cassidy doesn’t fight her demons alone, Conrad,” I grit out, my hands fisting at my sides. “She is mine which means her demons are mine and I will not sleep until they’ve been eliminated from her fucking reality, so you sit your fucking ass down and start talking.”
He blinks a few times, searches my gaze, then nods. Steps back and then walks into the living room. He falls into an armchair as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders.
I turn to Cassidy, who’s still standing in the same spot, cheeks tear-streaked, eyes haunted. I cup her face in my palms, wiping away her tears with my thumbs, then pull her into me, pressing her face into my neck as I whisper, “I got you, babe. I got you.”
A long shuddering sigh runs through her, and I give her a few minutes to breathe, to hide, to regroup. Then she pulls away, a small smile curving her lips, her eyes shining with an emotion other than grief. I search her eyes, she nods. “I’m ready.”
Taking her hand, I lead her into the living room, stopping in front of the chairs opposite Conrad.
We sit.
