“Necessary, maybe not. But it makes me happy.” She coils her long hair into a messy bun atop her head. “And happiness should be our journey, shouldn’t it?” She points to the AIM logo on the window.
“Are you affiliated?” Ilena asks.
“Brand ambassador!” She waves to the check-in counter and the shelves of AIM merchandise beside it. “Certified by Ella—isn’t she just the best?”
Ilena nods absently, not really knowing Ella enough to determine that here or at home. She stares at the swag, wondering which of them approved the idea of “brand ambassadors.” She wouldn’t have. She wouldn’t cede that level of control, allowing the AIM brand to be associated with people and places that could behave in ways that would reflect poorly on the company.
Your need to control everything has no end.
She squeezes her eyes shut, but Jonah’s indictment remains. She’s careful. She’s cautious. She does the right thing. Why isn’t that okay?
The sliding barn door across from her opens, and heat pours out.
“Excuse me,” the young woman says, pushing the water into Ilena’s hand.
“But I don’t—”
A string of women, mostly young, a few older—well, her age—and a couple of men drenched in sweat stream into the small entryway, slipping their shoes on, chatting about getting drinks or returning to work or recommending their latest binge-watch. A few pull out their phones, and Ilena hears the familiar tone of someone using “How Wide’s My Smile.”
She presses her feet to the shiny wood floor, trying to haul herself out, but she’s stuck. And she’s peed herself. Just a little. “Excuse—”
Another ding.
And another.
And three young women move to the stack of hoodies along the wall.
“Fifteen percent off if you buy it here,” the woman who helped Ilena says. She turns to give her a wink, and Ilena waves, gesturing for help, but the girl simply waves back.
Perfect.Ilena drinks the water and slumps into the chair for the rest of her life. She checks her phone, expecting a question from Aubrey or a scolding from Mallory, but the only new text is from her mother:
A girl! Your sister and I are so pleased. Felix couldn’t wait. Such a catch!
At least her mother likesoneof her husbands.
Another text comes in, this one a photograph of her mom holding a onesie with a cupcake on it.
Ilena draws in a sharp breath. Does her mother not remember? Did her father not do that here? Bring them special cupcakes for every occasion? Or did he, and her mother’s too damn self-absorbed to care?
Her mother couldn’t forgive—her father, Ilena, anyone. A wrong had no way to become anything but more wrong in her mother’s mind. She relished her anger. She spent so much time being offended by what other people did that she became mean and bitter. Even if her mother had wanted to find love again, who would want to find love with her?
Yet here she is, taking a picture with a onesie. Tall and trim with silver hair and a smile Ilena doesn’t recognize. Her mother doesn’t smile.
ButthisIlena’s mother does. It’s like trying to reconcile something as preposterous as unicorns being real, or having never met Mallory, or Ilena being a mom. She lays one hand atop her belly. If her mother smiles here, what might that mean of her dad?
Ilena opens the browser on her phone and searches for her father’s name. It pops up on some social media site she’s never heard of, but that she apparently has an account on. The site redirects to an app where she’s already logged in, and he’s listed as a friend. The last post on his page is from twelve years ago, from before her sister would have graduated from college, from before that photograph of just the three of them in the nursery was taken.
You will be missed.
Too soon.
I can still hear your laugh.
That one was written by her mother.
You would have been the best grandfather.
And this one by her.
