“I’m sorry you had to hear that, baby.” I tried pulling her into my arms, but she turned away.
The rejection stung.
She turned to face me with her tear-stricken face. “Your father thinks I’m making everything up. I want to read it. I want to know what’s in that file that convinced your father that I wasn’t worth protecting.”
“Ev—” I started.
“No, Parker. I need to read it.”
I handed her the folder and watched her pore over every single sheet of paper as the sun set and evening replaced the daylight. There were several photos of people, I assume, who were her family. I sat back quietly, letting her process everything that had just happened and what she was most likely discovering in the file. Evelyn didn’t do well being pushed, and if I tried too hard, then she would shut down completely.
We have gotten so far in the last few weeks. I didn’t want to lose her.
“I haven’t seen my dad since I was thirteen years old. Twice a month, if we were lucky, he would come and spend the day with Cellie and me. Then one day, he just stopped coming. We would ask our mothers if they had heard from him, and they would say no. Although I wasn’t much older than Cellie, I knew he wasn’t coming back, but she still had hope. I didn’t have it in me to break my sister's heart that way.”
“He found your dad?”
She let out a dry laugh. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was preparing to close herself off. It was how she protected herself, and I couldn’t blame her. My father and the sheriff had invaded her privacy. She had been opening up to me on her own terms, but now it was like her soul was completely laid bare in a manila folder.
“Yeah, he’s in Jamaica, apparently. He has a new family.” The hysterical laugh she released was enough to keep me from prying any further. “He has two teenage daughters, Parker. Two. I don’t believe much in God, but he sure is hilarious.”
Tears pooled in her eyes again. The whirlwind of emotions she was displaying had me longing to comfort her, but I couldn’t take another rejection.
She swiped the tears off her face and turned to me with steel in her gaze.
“I didn’t know about the things my father had done. We barely knew him. We just knew he was our dad. I won’t take responsibility for his crimes or his actions. He abandoned us and never looked back.”
“Ev, I would never think less of you because of something your dad did.”
“In my heart, I know that. At least I think so.”
It hurt to hear that she doubted me. I knew things were still fresh between us, but I thought our connection was strong.
“I want you to read this file. Your dad thought he was protecting you. That’s what fathers are supposed to do. But before you do, I want to tell you what happened.”
“You don’t —”
“No, Parker, you have a right to know. You’ve put yourself in danger, and probably your family too. You have a right to know what happened.”
I didn’t want her to relive her past for the second time tonight, but it was her story to tell. If she wanted to share, then I would listen.
Chapter 33
Evelyn
That file was a fucking joke and a gross invasion of privacy. Never did I think Mr. Woods would do a deep dive into my entire life.
I stopped caring what my father was up to when he abandoned us. My mom took care of me just fine—I didn’t want for anything growing up. We didn’t go on luxurious family vacations or shopping sprees, but that wasn't what was important to us.
From early on, Celeste and I learned that as long as we had each other and our mothers to support us, we didn’t need anything else. We had been raised by two amazing women. We were rich with the family we had created and the love that we shared, and we knew it.
That file told one side of my story. The side I barely knew. Our mothers never revealed anything or let it slip to us that our father wasn’t an upstanding man. My mother never tried to turn me against him, and I was thankful for that. By thirteen, I was able to draw my own conclusions. I knew who showed up for parent-teacher night and graduations and who always had an excuse.
My father apparently had a rap sheet as long as a CVS receipt. The file detailed petty and more serious crimes. My father lied and cheated his way through life. Shoplifting. Trespassing. Grand larceny. Drug trafficking. There were several warrants out for his arrest. According to these documents, when the heat got to be too much, he fled back to Jamaica and started a new life.
The file contained things about my mother, too. They had flagged her undocumented status, and my disgust only increased. My mother worked hard from the moment she set foot in this country, working at the same school for almost fifteen years. People knew her and loved her in our neighborhood. She was a pillar in our community. Becoming a citizen wasn’t as easy as people thought, especially not when there were people who sought to take advantage of immigrants and their status.
My mother had saved and saved for a lawyer, only to have that lawyer take her money and run off with it. She was devastated, but she never stopped trying.
