“What is fundamentally different about your life today?”
I rubbed my hand. “I found out that my dad isn’t—” I broke off when Claire tried to pinch me again. “Stop. What are you doing?”
“You’re not answering the question.”
“You keep pinching me like a five-year-old.”
“Nothing is different.”
“Everything is different.” I pinched her back.
“Is it? Was he your biological father yesterday? Were you his biological daughter? Did he love you more before? Do you love him less today? Does knowing any of this make you want to go live with your mom?” Claire kept ticking the questions off on her left hand.
When she started in on the right hand, I stopped her. “Okay, okay.”
“It doesn’t have to be different unless you let it. I mean, look at your dad. He knew, right? He’s always known, and it didn’t matter to him, so don’t let it matter to you.”
I drew in a deep breath through my nose, looking at Claire and willing my heart and my head to embrace what she was saying. I wanted the anxiety and dread to stop curdling in my stomach. I wanted her words to demolish the fear and bitterness that tainted the future as I saw it. I wanted to stay with Dad and the shop and for everything to go back to the way it was before Mom came back. I wanted her to stay gone.
And then I realized that waiting wasn’t going to get me any of those things.
“You’re right.” I twisted around and grabbed my bag from the backseat. I pulled out my phone and sat back.
“Are you calling your dad?”
“No. I’m calling her.”
“Your mom? You’re calling yourmom?” For a second I thought Claire might start pinching me again—with both hands—but she sat perfectly still.
“I’m not going to do this anymore—flinch every time the phone rings or there’s a knock at the door. I can’t sit here waiting and dreading every moment like it might be the last. Dad isn’t going to fight.” That admission was like a car crashing into my heart. “But I have to.”
I found Mom’s number in my contacts list. When she’d added it that day in my garage I’d never thought I’d use it. “It’s ringing.”
Claire looked torn between tearing the phone out of my hands and moving closer so that she could hear better. Instead she pulled out her own phone and composed a text to her cousin to pick her up ASAP. She showed it to me before sending, giving me the option of meeting Mom alone or with her as backup. I reached out and pushed Send on Claire’s phone just as Mom answered on mine.
CHAPTER 38
The park where Claire’s cousin dropped me off to meet Mom was deserted that late at night. I left the Spitfire where it had died—I’d have to deal with it later when I called Dad. The streetlights in Claire’s neighborhood—our old neighborhood—provided enough light for me to see my mother when she arrived. She was wearing jeans and one of my old tank tops. With her hair pulled into a messy-but-totally-chic bun and barely any makeup, she looked impossibly young. The wary expression on her face only added to that impression.
She lowered herself onto the bench next to me like she expected me to attack her. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say or do. My mouth was dry and it felt like a wire was pulled tight between my temples. My hands curled under the wood of the bench as I stared at the merry-go-round. I remembered this park. I drove past it all the time, but I hadn’t set foot in it in years, not since we moved.
“This is a little unusual.” Mom looked around the empty playground, still but for a swing softly creaking in the breeze. “But I’m glad you called. I wanted to talk more last time after—”
“We’re not going to talk about what you told me.” My hands gripped the bench harder and I started blinking too fast. “I don’t care about any of that, so it doesn’t matter. Don’t—don’t bring it up again.”
A car drove by. Then another.
“No, I’m sorry, but you’re not going to dictate the conversation this time. I’m done feeling guilty,” she went on. “I’ve forgiven myself and that’s all that matters. I decided all that when I left, so as much as I know you want me to, I can’t apologize for any of my choices. That’s something you’re going to have to get past. I’m getting there. Jeff is helping, the therapist I’ve been seeing is helping, and having you back is going to help even more.” Her eyes bored into mine. “Your dad, he’ll be fine on his own. I’m the one who needs you. Not him.”
“No.” I shook my head, because what she wanted was impossible. “I won’t make things better for you, I promise. I will ruin anything good, because if you take me from Dad I’ll have nothing left.” I was still wearing my coveralls and I fisted the loose material above my knee, turning my knuckles white before releasing it. “Look.” I held my hand out to her. I hadn’t scrubbed my hands before leaving the shop with Claire, so my nails were edged with black and the creases in my knuckles and palms were marked with dark crisscrossing lines. “You don’t want this. You don’t.”
Something happened when she looked at my hand. Her shoulders shook and her face crumbled. It wasn’t pretty or dignified or calculating or any of the things I associated her with. It made me want to shrink away. And run.
“You used to cry when your hands got dirty. You don’t even remember, do you? If you fell outside, even if you weren’t hurt, you’d hold your little palms up and these big fat tears would start. You wouldn’t stop until we washed your hands.” As she spoke, she continued to gather herself until her face smoothed completely, everything back to picture-perfect except for the iron grip she kept on her purse. “You weren’t even four when he started taking you to the shop. You’d cry when he’d put you down, when he’d pick you up with grease on his hands, when he’d wash your hands in the slop sink. You hated it. You hated the noise and the smell. But he took you with him every week. It was months before you stopped crying when your hands got dirty.”
I didn’t remember any of that. I’d always loved working in the shop, handing Dad tools, rolling tires that were bigger than I was. It was better than any playground.
Her eyes lost their focus for a second before locking on me. “You have no idea, you really don’t. And I never wanted you to. Because I love you.”
