Finding peace, p.17
Finding Peace, page 17
“I had a few that I didn’t tell you guys about, but geez. It’s not like we had a lot of great role models for relationships,” I mumble.
“Dad’s marrying her,” she says. “Finally.”
“I heard.”
“It doesn’t make her our mom.” Ana puts her hand on my forearm. “She never tried to be that.”
She sure didn’t. Annelise wasn’t mean, but she was never warm, never supportive, and certainly never welcoming. She was . . . borderline hostile.
“I think she had a rough go,” Ana says. “She was dating Dad, hoping and planning for a future with someone who clearly had no plans for kids. She doesn’t like children at all, and then suddenly, he’s got two kids—children who don’t even like her. We were pretty angry and standoffish. At least, you were.”
“I don’t really care,” I say. But maybe that’s a lie. Why didn’t Annelise even try to love us?
“I cared.” My poor little sister stares down at her hands, and I realize she’s trying not to cry. I’ve never wanted to punch Annelise, but if she showed up right now, I might.
“It doesn’t matter either way, really,” I say. “The point is, Dad’s actually right. I’m dating someone and I really like her. A lot.”
Ana beams. “That’s the best news I’ve heard this month.” She doesn’t say it’s better than Phillip’s release, but I know that’s what she means. It helps ease some of my frustration with him taking up so much of her time. I don’t want him to be a part of her life at all, but at least she cares more about me than him. It doesn’t relieve my fear for her and my anger at him, but maybe some of what I was feeling was jealousy. That my sister, the only girl I have ever really loved other than Mom, loves him too. Maybe I don’t want to share her.
“You will love Anica.”
“When can I meet her?”
“When do you get back from the beachhouse?”
“Since we have a county fair day on Monday, there’s no school. I won’t be back until late that night.”
“Next week, then,” I say. “If we can find the time.”
She beams at me, and I launch into a list of all the things I like about Anica. It’s longer than I expected. By the time Ana leaves, I’ve got almost a hundred work emails to deal with. Taking off afternoons is brutal. I’m slogging my way through them when my phone starts buzzing.
Phillip.
I reluctantly answer. “Yeah?”
“Hello, Ethan. It’s Phillip Sims.” As if I didn’t know who he was. At least he didn’t say he was my dad again.
“I know.”
“Oh, okay.”
He’s so awkward. I suppose not being part of the real world for eighteen years will do that to you. “Why are you calling me, Phillip Sims?”
“Last time we spoke, you offered to help me.”
“Actually, I offered to get you a job.”
“Right.”
“And you’re ready to give me your answer?”
“I do want a job, clearly,” Phillip says.
It’s so obvious that he’s about to say ‘but’ that I cut him off. “I think it would be better to talk about this in person.”
“Oh,” he says. “You do?”
I don’t reply.
“Okay.”
“Can you meet me if I text you an address?”
“When?”
“Now, or as soon as possible,” I say.
“Oh.” He seems to be shuffling some kind of paper. “The bus schedule is a little confusing.”
The bus schedule. I almost can’t suppress my smile. I’ve got him—I can feel it. “How about you text me and let me know when you’re close. Then we can talk about it in person.”
“Alright,” he says slowly. “I can do that.”
I text him the address, which is less than three miles from here. I make my way through almost all my emails before he texts.
I’M HERE.
I grab the keys to the Porsche and reach him in under five minutes. He’s leaning against a pole at the gas station when I roar around the corner and pull up next to the air compressor. I make sure that I open the door and climb out slowly.
Then I lean casually against the edge of the shiny blue car. Dad outdid himself—it has every bell and every whistle. And Ana said it best—isn’t my new sports car what every guy wants?
“Phillip, I’m glad you found the address.”
“I’m glad you wanted to meet.” He swallows hard and his eyes follow the line of the car. He loves it—I can tell.
“Alright, why don’t you tell me, then. You want a job?”
“I do, of course, and it was very generous of you to offer to find me one. But I’ve had dinner with Adriana twice, and she’s—” He shakes his head. “I’ve had a long time to think about the mistakes I’ve made. I know I made plenty. More than plenty. I know you can’t forgive me for them.”
He says he knows, but I can feel that he hopes he’s wrong, just as Ana is constantly poking me to consider forgiving him, moving ahead as if he didn’t ruin our lives and kill our mother. Fury pulses through me. He’s right about one thing. I will never forgive him, not for what he did. And I’ll never get over what I didn’t do. The regret and pain and loneliness and guilt I’ve hauled around for all these years are all his fault too. “And?”
“It’s a miracle that your sister can.”
“She was a baby. She doesn’t remember anything. Her generosity is a mistake I’ll never make. You’re the same person you’ve always been.”
The muscles in his jaw work and his face twists. “Maybe I am.”
“You know it, deep down. You know it’s better for her if she never sees you again. It’s better for everyone . . . except for you. And I know you well enough to know that ultimately, the only person you care about is yourself. So I’m going to do something that will allow you to do the right thing. The thing that you’re not man enough to do without an incentive.”
His eyes fly up to mine, and there’s fear there.
I wish I didn’t like the way it makes me feel quite so much.
“I’m offering you this car.” I toss the keys to him.
He catches them on reflex. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ve got the title with me. I’ll sign it over to you right now. I even printed up a bill of sale. You’ll walk away from here with a brand new, one hundred and thirty thousand dollar Porsche—a 911 Carrera Cabriolet. You can sell it, you can drive it, you can do whatever you want with it. And all you have to do to get it is something you already know you should be doing. Walk out of Adriana’s life as if you never existed. Tell her you don’t want to see her ever again, and then mean it.”
Phillip shakes his head.
“Don’t even try to tell me how hard this decision is to you. I know it’s the right call for everyone involved except for me. I’m the one losing the car.”
“You’re so much like him.”
His words are like a knife twisting in my heart. I love my dad, but I don’t aspire to be like him. “What do you mean?” As if I don’t know.
“Did you know he offered to pay me, too?” His shoulders slump. His face falls. His eyes are hollow, full of only regret.
“When?” I’m such an idiot. Did he already refuse Dad? And now here I am, making the same offer.
“Not recently.” He smiles, his discolored teeth remarkably sad in a face now lined with age. “But when your mother and I first fell in love, your uncle approached me, with full approval from your grandfather. They offered me a hundred thousand dollars to walk away from her, no questions asked.”
“You turned that down?” Frankly, I’m shocked.
“You don’t care,” he says. “I know that no excuse will satisfy you, but my father beat me—he hit all of us regularly. My older brother took it out on me, too. That life, that anger, it was all I knew.”
I’ve studied the cycle of abuse. I hate that he’s blaming what happened to him for his decisions. I was beaten, and I’ve never hit someone who wasn’t also spoiling for a fight. And I’ve never hit a woman or a child. Never.
“I’m an alcoholic,” he says.
“Clearly.”
“You probably are, too.”
“I might be,” I say. “If I ever drank.”
“You’re so smart to avoid the temptation,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”
I step toward him, my hands clenched at my side. “You don’t get to be proud of me. You don’t get to feel any way about me. Do you understand?”
He flinches.
“Do you want the car, or not?”
“I turned them down because I loved your mother, and because I was prideful. I thought they were wrong about me.” He pulls in on himself then, becoming smaller somehow. Like a toothless dragon. Like a lion with no claws—sick, sad, and broken. I can see what draws Adriana to him. Her whole life is focused on repairing things, healing and teaching and improving. But some things can’t be fixed. “I turned them down, but I’ll accept it from you, because I’m old enough now to know that you’re right.”
Adriana might never forgive me if she finds out what I’ve done, but I’m glad he’s taking the car.
So very glad.
14
Anica
I haven’t been to get a pedicure with anyone other than my sister, which means I haven’t been since Lizzie died years ago. I shouldn’t be nervous—it’s not scary, and yet I’m inexplicably twitchy. Maybe it’s because Trudy’s running late. I sit on the edge of the sofa, and then I get up and walk past the front door.
“Are you okay, Aunt Anica?” Chase asks.
“Uh, sure,” I say. “I’m totally fine. Aunt Trudy’s going to take me to get a pedicure.”
“A what?”
I point at my toes. “See how the light purple polish on my toenails is all chipped and yucky?”
Chase hunches over and touches my toes. I still forget occasionally how tactile children are. “That’s purple?”
I laugh. “It was purple. Now it sort of looks grey.”
“Maybe don’t do this color again,” Chase says. “It makes your toes look like they go on zombie feet.”
What a lovely image. “Probably best to avoid that, yes.”
Trudy’s car pulls up outside, and I’m surprised when she circles to unbuckle Troy.
“Hey.” I open the door and wave to her.
Troy waves but then runs straight past me, basically barreling into Chase. Troy hugs Chase like he hasn’t seen him in a year every single time he comes over. It’s kind of adorable. “I made a Lego dinosaur,” Troy says.
“No way,” Chase says. “Where is it?”
“Mom said I can’t bring it!” Troy glares at Trudy as she walks inside.
“Because you’d have lost the tail or the arms, and then we’d be here for an hour looking. And when we finally gave up and went home, you’d cry the entire way. Chase can see the dino next time he comes over.”
Troy kicks the edge of the entry table.
“No, sir.” Trudy grabs his arms and turns him to face the corner. “We use our words to express how we feel, not our feet.”
I suppress a laugh. Troy’s face is priceless, but I really can’t encourage him at all. You give a little boy an inch and he’ll sprint halfway across the county. “I’m sorry we can’t see your Lego dinosaur.” I lower my voice and turn pointedly toward Trudy. “Did something come up? Are we not going?”
She rolls her eyes. “Paul had to stay late, but Mary offered to let Troy play here, so we’re good.”
“Oh no, I feel bad now.”
Mary calls from the kitchen. “Anica, do not feel bad. It makes my life easier to have Troy here, trust me.”
Trudy laughs. “One of the ironies of parenting. Looking after two boys is easier than one.” She shrugs. “They entertain each other.”
“Until one of them falls off the balcony and breaks an arm,” I say.
“Hush, you,” Mary says. “There aren’t any balconies here.”
“Which is why I used that example.” I laugh. “I don’t want to be blamed for bad juju if something does happen.”
A moment later, we’re walking back to Trudy’s 4Runner. “This is a nice car.” I slide into the passenger side. “These seats are amazing.”
She glances down at them as if she hadn’t noticed. “Paul picked it out. I don’t really care much about my car, but he’s right that leather seats are way easier to clean. Crusted kid gunk is the worst.”
Kid gunk, like that’s an actual thing. I like Trudy. I might have to remember her description for a book. “Chase told me I’ve got zombie toes, so I think it’s a good thing you invited me. Or maybe that’s why you invited me.”
Trudy zooms away from the curb and takes a sharp turn. “Please. I need this way more than you do.”
“Need this?” I glance down at her toes. They don’t look too bad.
“Not the pedicure so much as the break from work and parenting . . . and frankly, I need a friend.”
I’m floored. She needs a friend? And she wants me? Her sister’s husband’s ex sister-in-law?
“Uh, well, that’s good. I’m kind of surprised, honestly.”
“At what?” She takes a corner at what feels like thirty miles per hour.
I grip the edge of my armrest with both hands until my knuckles turn white. “That you’d choose me, mostly, but also that you need a friend. You people have more friends than anyone else I know.”
Trudy laughs. “You mean Mary’s friends?”
Huh. I’d never considered it that way, but . . . Mary knows Paisley because they work together. She knows Geo because she’s Paisley’s friend and planned Mary’s wedding. She knows Brekka through Geo, who is dear friends with Rob and Geo’s husband’s sister. None of them have much connection to Trudy . . . except through Mary.
“I didn’t even think about that,” I say. “You guys are all so shiny, I guess I hadn’t considered how you met in the first place.”
We stop at a light and Trudy turns to face me. “Shiny?” She giggles. “I love that word. That’s totally what they are. Paisley’s a secret princess. Brekka’s a former Olympian with a dump truck sized brain.”
Her word choice is odd, but still strangely apropos.
“And then you have Geo. Don’t even get me started on her.”
“You don’t like her?” I ask.
“Oh, I love her, but she’s hard to be around on my good days.” She shrugs. “It is what it is. I know that sucks for her, but she’s effortlessly stunning and that’s a little depressing to us normal humans.”
She’s totally right. I feel bad thinking it, but it’s true.
“She also runs her own event planning business and makes it look like she’s doing nothing at all, she’s so graceful. Then there’s Mary—and I love her until the moon goes black, but she’s perfection personified.”
Also 100 percent accurate.
“You’re like a procession of truth bombs today,” I say. “I’m terrified what you’ll say about me.”
Trudy laughs. “You’re refreshingly real and normal. The first time I saw you, you had a piece of something green stuck between your two front teeth. I wanted to tell you, but then I thought, hey, she’s at home and no one else will see. Why embarrass her? Because I knew then and there that you were my kind of people.”
I cough. “Your kind? You mean, the single mom who fought her way through college and took down a corporate spy to save her husband’s fledgling business?”
She laughs so hard I’m worried she’ll actually ram into a fire hydrant. “Oh, that’s hilarious. I’m the one in the group who always forgets her wallet, doesn’t have a lunch packed for Troy, and forgot to bring baby wipes. But don’t worry, Mary will have an extra lunch and a bag of wipes—even before she had a baby—and she’ll do it all with a smile. Me on the other hand, I’m perpetually wearing and saying and doing the wrong things.” She pauses at a light and exhales dramatically. “So please, Anica, join me for a pedicure so I won’t get a staph infection the next time I put my foot in my mouth.”
“At least we’re funny.”
She pulls into the nail place and blessedly stops the car. My heart slowly slides down from where it has been lodged in my throat. Luckily we’re here early enough that there aren’t many other customers. “It’s too late for most moms with school-aged kids, and too early for most people getting off work,” Trudy says as she peruses and then selects her nail polish color. A soft shade of lilac.
“Not that one.” I gently push her hand back toward the rack. “Light purple apparently turns your feet into corpse feet when it flakes off.”
“Good to know.” She puts it back and chooses canary yellow. I doubt that’s much better, but I don’t bother correcting her. She’ll figure it out herself—or Troy will point it out. Ha!
Once we’re seated, I confess. “You may feel like you don’t fit in perfectly, but at least you’ve got a group that wants you. I don’t have any friends in Atlanta at all.”
She frowns at first, but when she realizes I’m serious, she blinks. “Really?”
“It makes me sound a little pathetic,” I admit. “I do know that. I’ve got friends in California, but way less than I realized. A bunch of us used to go out together, but when I stopped barhopping, it was like they didn’t have much to say to me anymore.”
“You’re kidding.”
I shrug. “Or maybe I changed too much.”
“Changed?”
The woman buffing my toes isn’t exactly gentle, but maybe that’s on me for having such horrible toenails. I wince, and she eases up a bit. “I was different, before.”
She sighs. “Before your sister passed.”
“Yeah. Life was so sunny then.”
“I’m so sorry,” Trudy says. “I’ve had my share of storms, but mine were always my fault.”
“I doubt that.”
“I take responsibility for my choices,” Trudy says, “always. I chose badly when I married the first time. Mary built herself this little fortress from the world when our parents let us down, but I didn’t. Probably because I always had her to protect me. I guess I wasn’t as scared to love as she was, although maybe I should have been. I wanted love, like the kind I thought my parents lacked. My first husband was so over the top with everything that when he said he’d love me forever, and he gushed and he told me all the right things, I wanted to believe him. Without any evidence, and against Mary’s advice, I decided to believe every promise he made, no matter how hollow.”
