The Dating Charade

by Melissa Ferguson

  Finally, Star shot her head their way. “Go away!”

  “I’m not going away, Star.” Cassie leaned her head out the window, heat blasting through the vents. “If you want to walk to Ershanna’s, fine. But she’s just going to turn you back over to me. Why don’t you just get in the car, and we can go home?”

  Star shouted something short and vulgar, her words piercing, her tone halfway hysterical, then jumped up on the sidewalk, farther from them.

  Cassie threw the car into Park and unclipped her belt. “Take over, Bree.”

  “You know what you’re doing?” Bree asked.

  “No clue.” Cassie slung her coat around her as she jumped out of the driver’s seat.

  And without pausing, she pushed her hands in her pockets and jogged up onto the sidewalk. Star stared straight ahead, jaw so clenched it threatened to break a tooth. She didn’t stop.

  “Look,” Cassie began, “I’m sorry you had to wait around so long at church the other day.”

  Star turned her head away, walking faster.

  Cassie matched her pace. “I’m sorry, Star. I am. You know I am.”

  Star pulled her hair in front of the left side of her face, concealing her eyes.

  “But I didn’t forget you,” Cassie continued. “I may have let the time get away from me, but I didn’t forget you. And I would never, ever, ever just leave you. You’re my Star.” Cassie pulled Star’s jacket out from the crook of her arm. “Literally and figuratively.”

  She held it out for Star. Waited.

  “And if you don’t like that church, I get it. We’ll find another one. One we all want to be a part of.”

  Star snatched the coat out of her hands without slowing down.

  At the stop sign she strode even faster across the road, and Cassie sped up.

  They walked together silently, Star’s breaths coming heavily as the neighborhood houses came to an end. Cars whizzed by as Star stopped, finally, at the stoplight for the main road. Bree slowed the car to a stop beside them, smoke gently curling from the exhaust.

  “Look.” Cassie’s breath materialized as she spoke. “The truth is I don’t know what I’m doing. One minute I’m on the best date of my life, the next I’m figuring out how to do laundry for four. You gotta give me a break here. I’ve never had to be a parent before. Heck, you’re doing a better job at parenting than I am half the time.” She looked at the passing cars. “But, for my part, having you guys in my life has also made it the best weeks of my life—”

  “You don’t mean it—”

  Cassie turned to face her. “Yeah . . . I do. Of course I do.”

  For the first time Star, too, turned and met her eyes.

  The pit in Cassie’s stomach started quaking. For as much as she knew about Star, there were still parts she had kept hidden all these years, things about her home life she had kept under wraps. Frankly, Cassie didn’t know how Star would respond. To anything. Half of Cassie expected Star to knock her over then and there, shouting she wasn’t her mother.

  “But . . . there was a reason I was late on Sunday. A reason I’ve needed to tell you. Something you need to know.”

  Cassie felt the words being pulled from her. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell Star about her mother on Sunday, when Star had flown into her room and shut the door for hours on end. Cassie hadn’t found the words the morning after, either, when she’d heard Bailey’s car pull up in the driveway and seen Star leave for school—she could only hope—an hour early.

  She didn’t know when the time would be right for this kind of news. Never, it seemed, was the time right for this kind of news.

  “It’s . . . about your mom.”

  Cassie could see Star’s eyes tighten, a momentary look of surprise before settling back into distance.

  “What about her?” she asked quietly.

  “They . . .” And suddenly Cassie realized she really had no idea how to handle this. Any of this. “They found her in Memphis. I, uh, I think your mom is going to face some charges. She might have to spend some time in prison. I don’t know how long.”

  Star started nodding to the cement, her eyes hard as she bit her bottom lip. The light turned green, but she didn’t move.

  Cassie dropped one hand out of her pocket, on the off chance she’d have to grab Star before she ran into traffic.

  “And what about us?”

  Cassie released an icy breath.

  “You guys will stay with me. If you want. For . . .” Her words fell heavily. “For as long as you want.”

  Star lifted her chin, brows furrowing. “What are you saying, Miss C?”

  “I’m saying—” Cassie lifted her shoulders and dropped them again. “I’m saying I’d like you to stay with me.”

  “No,” Star said, her voice rising sharply. “What are you saying?”

  And suddenly Cassie was backed into a corner. Suddenly, she knew she should’ve talked with Rachel more about this. Should’ve waited until the PATH foster classes so someone could’ve gone over this conversation in detail, telling her exactly what to say. She didn’t know what she was doing. She hardly knew the meaning of the term “termination of parental rights”—nothing more than what the Wikipedia article had to say.

  Someone else should’ve told Star. Star’s guidance counselor. Rachel with DCS. Really, anyone would’ve been better.

  But they weren’t here, were they? And that’s what her job was now, wasn’t it? To be the person who did the hard things, sometimes. To be the person they could rely on. No matter what.

  Cassie spoke slowly, carefully. “I’m saying that your mother signed over her parental rights.” Her voice felt more clogged by the moment.

  But no, she couldn’t stop now.

  “And . . . if you want me to,” Cassie continued, “I can adopt you.”

  Star watched the sidewalk some more. Cars moved around Bree, who waited beside them, wipers on, lights flashing. Cassie glanced back to the girls in the back seat. Deidre pressed her face against the window, taking it all in.

  The girls shouldn’t have been watching this. Yet another bad parental move, Cassie was realizing.

  “You wanna take my sisters?” Star said abruptly.

  Cassie stared. “Of course not. I want to take your sisters and you.”

  The light turned yellow, then red. Cars began to line up again.

  She didn’t have the heart to tell Star it was up to her, that she had to give consent before the judge. Maybe Star would hear that and back out, changing her destination from Ershanna’s to the DCS building, so she could be there first thing in the morning to give her statement and get out of Cassie’s home. She could do that, too, probably. She was old enough. The courts surely would respect her wishes—

  Cassie felt her breath knocked out as she was suddenly hit in the chest. Just when she felt certain Star was in the throes of pummeling her, however, she felt Star’s arms wrap around her ribs, her face pressed so hard and so deep into Cassie’s chest she felt Star was getting zipper burn. She wasn’t trying to smother her. She was trying to hug her.

  Relief flooded over Cassie.

  Everything was going to be okay.

  “Why doesn’t she want us?”

  The almost inaudible, whispered words halted Cassie’s thoughts and turned her blood ice cold.

  Suddenly she felt the wet tears on her neck, the slight tremors of Star’s body through their coats.

  “Oh, Star.” Cassie wrapped her arms around Star’s shoulders and squeezed tight.

  For seconds that turned to minutes, they stood in silence.

  Eventually, Bree turned the car off.

  Finally, after the fourth series of cars went by, Cassie pulled away enough to look down at her, her throat throbbing. “I don’t know, Star. No matter what, though, I’d like you to stay. With me.”

  She swallowed, these emotional moments—especially with the stream of cars watching—foreign and uncomfortable.

  Star pulled back and ru
bbed her nose against her jacket. She didn’t move. Didn’t seem to breathe.

  After a long, thoughtful pause, she nodded.

  Slowly they both stepped toward the car and slipped into their seats.

  They sat in silence the rest of the way home, even Deidre and Kennedy in tune to the heavy moment. Hours later, after Cassie had cleared the cookie crumbs from the kitchen table and helped the girls get baths before bed, she quietly shut the door to Star’s room and tiptoed down the hall. Part of her felt like her feet were in charge of her dragging body, and catching the sight of her bed through her open door, she was tempted to collapse on it clothes and all. But her mind ached in the way it did after six hours of television in bed on a sick day, overstimulated and too wound up to let her sleep. She turned instead at the top of the stairs and started down.

  Hot tea would do her good. Help her process what all had happened that day.

  And there, at the end chair of the dining room table, sat her best friend, two cups of steaming tea on the table.

  “Bree?” Cassie said, skipping down the last three steps. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

  Bree turned the handle of the mug in her hand, nodding with a weary smile. “I waited.”

  Once seated, Bree pushed the mug her way. The way she slid it over silenced Cassie; the lack of animation on Bree’s face hushing Cassie’s thoughts. Never had she seen Bree look so somber—at least, not since Cassie’s accident.

  “Cass, I need to tell you something.”

  Cassie reached out and pulled the mug toward herself. The heat radiated through fingers she hadn’t realized were so cold. “What’s up?”

  “You remember the day we met?”

  “Of course. At the park.” She’d never forget spying the tall, lanky eight-year-old girl on the swings out her third-story apartment window. How she’d begged her mom to let her fly down those stairs, jump over the creek, and meet her in the adjacent park. The newcomer from Jersey. Her instant friend—rather, her instant bosom-buddy, who-needs-anybody-else, forget-those-mean-third-grade-girls forever friend. How could anyone forget such a pivotal life moment?

  “And do you know what that park was next to?”

  “There was a Food City nearby. A gas station. A—” Cassie paused, suspicion rising. “A Rebos.”

  Bree nodded, turning the cup in her hands.

  The Rebos facility was simple, just a two-story colonial updated to house a support group for addiction recovery. Rebos. Spelled backward: S-O-B-E-R.

  “You know, I was the youngest honorary member of that house,” Bree continued. “I wore down those halls with my running. I even once asked if I could be a real member when I grew up, just without the alcohol.”

  Cassie sat back in her chair, stunned. “I had no idea.”

  “That place was home back then.” Bree shrugged, her smile bittersweet. “Those people were family. In those early years, after getting back together, Mom and I were there almost every day.”

  Cassie let go of her mug, felt herself stop breathing. She leaned forward. “Bree . . . What do you mean ‘after getting back together’?”

  “After Mom got me back.” Bree took a breath. “From foster care.”

  The world moved like a great rocking chair, and Cassie felt herself pulled back into her seat, the world suddenly dizzy. “You were in foster care? You?”

  Bree started nodding. “For three hundred and twenty-six days. Mom got me back June 6, two weeks before my eighth birthday.”

  Cassie’s lips parted, but no words formed. Her? Bree? Bree? And Mrs. Leake? This wasn’t possible. It had to be a joke . . . a terrible joke. But there Bree sat opposite her, her emerald eyes a rich and rare hue of sorrow and honesty and unlocked story.

  Cassie fumbled for words. “I—I can’t believe this. I don’t know what to say. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “It wasn’t my secret to tell.” Bree shrugged, but then a whisper of a smile lifted on her lips. “What excuse did I give you for why we moved all the way down here from New Jersey?”

  Cassie smiled. “To get cows.”

  “Yeah. Well, I hate to break it to you, but there are cows in Jersey too.” A huffy laugh escaped her, and for a moment they both smiled in recollection before their smiles slowly slipped away.

  “What really happened is that Mom wanted to get away after it all, take us somewhere nobody would judge her, and I wouldn’t have to remember. Where we’d never have to drive on Scott Street on the way to the grocery store or the elementary school or the movies and see the yellow townhome where I lived for months away from her. Where I wouldn’t have to look at the second-story window where I used to sit for hours, watching the road, hoping to see her car pass by. Making myself believe I saw her car pass by. Making myself believe she was slowing down and was squinting through the car window to see if she could see me and was waving. That any moment her blinker was about to turn on, and she’d pull in and ring the doorbell and say it was all over and I needed to jump in the car right then. And that she was sorry for everything. And everything was going to be different. And I was going home.” She shook her head. “You have no idea how many blue Hondas are on the road until you spend your life looking for one.”

  Cassie lifted the cup of tea, her throat suddenly aching and dry. “I’m so sorry, Bree. I can’t imagine. I can’t believe it . . . A year?”

  Bree nodded.

  Cassie and Bree sat in silence for a minute, Cassie trying to wedge this entirely new set of information into the neatly organized facts of her life. Mrs. Leake had always been a second mother to her. There for every graduation. There for every holiday. Cassie had spent so much time at the Leakes’ home she was in half of their framed photographs on the walls. More than once she’d been included in the family photo sent out for the Leake Family Christmas card.

  Bree? In the foster system because of something Mrs. Leake had done—or failed to do? Because of addiction? The woman had more self-control than a Shaker, and they’d all but died out in their successful stand on celibacy.

  Bree turned the handle of her mug round and round, the skidding of the ceramic bottom across the dining table the only noise between them.

  Finally, Cassie heard herself sputter despite herself, “What happened?”

  She paused. “A lot of things that shouldn’t have, Cass. A lot of things no kid should experience.” Bree opened her mouth to speak more, then let it hang there a moment before seeming to change her mind. “But that’s the thing I do want you to hear from this. The point is those girls upstairs have a mom already. And no matter what had happened to me back then, and how wrong it all was, I still wanted my mom. I wanted her to get fixed up and get me back. I wanted her to fight for me. And thankfully, in my case, that’s exactly what she did.

  “Now, I don’t know Star’s mom. I couldn’t begin to guess all the reasons she signed off her rights last week—maybe she felt pressured, maybe she thought it was the loving thing to do. Maybe she really didn’t care. I don’t know. But I’m telling you now, I don’t think she would’ve hung on to those girls this long if she didn’t care about them at all. And I don’t know Star’s and Kennedy’s and Deidre’s whole situation, but I can guarantee you one thing: no kid wants to hear their mom is letting go.”

  Bree’s eyes flickered down to her mug as though afraid to say the next words to Cassie’s face. “And Cass, I hate to say it, but you need a little redirection.”

  Cassie swallowed the lump in her throat. Bree had never chastised her. Never. Not once in their twenty-five-year history.

  Bree blinked and reached for Cassie’s hand. “I know you want a family. I know it. And girl, you deserve it more than every single person on this planet. But you also gotta realize that what is victory to you is tragedy to them. You have to start seeing what is happening through their eyes, even if they aren’t showing it on the outside.”

  Cassie’s words rushed out, “But I’m sure these are different circumstances than you faced, B
ree. Their mom left them without food for weeks—”

  Bree shook her head, spreading her hands on the table as though spreading a deck of cards. “You know these facts. These few facts. But what you don’t know is every other memory these kids have with their mom, every good moment. Every possible reason for why their mom did what she did. That’s the thing. We don’t know her why.”

  Cassie crossed her arms, suddenly cold despite the radiator beside them. She felt silly, sheepish as she defended herself quietly. “I just thought they would want to be out of all that—”

  “What I saw tonight is that they want to be with her, just without ‘all that.’ This—” Bree waved a hand around the room. “—all of this, is not the plan. This is the backup plan, born out of tragedy. You can cover the place in scented candles and chocolate-chip cookies and bubble baths all you want, but at the end of the day, those girls are hurting.”

  Cassie felt the hammer fall on her heart, crushing, flattening.

  For several minutes they sat there, silent. Finally, slowly, Bree stood and reached for her coat. Cassie stood with her.

  “They will be happy with you, Cass. Darn happy. And I’m over the moon to see it all play out. But I want you to remember that grief and happiness aren’t always mutually exclusive, okay?”

  “I know,” Cassie whispered.

  “I know you do, but do you know it enough?”

  Bree’s gaze bore into Cassie’s for one long moment before Cassie nodded, seeing Bree—her carefree, tropical fish Bree—in ways she’d never seen her before.

  Honestly, she’d never looked so beautiful.

  18

  Jett

  Hearing the knob jiggle on the bathroom door had the same effect on Jett’s heartrate as a burglar taking a golf club to his window. From his very private moment in the bathroom, he groaned as the door opened and little Dakota, dragging a gallon of milk, came inside.

  Milk sloshed on his toes, on the linoleum, on the black bath mat, as she set it before him.

  “Dakota, go put that back right now.”

  Dakota, however, pushed the sippy cup between his knees. “I want some milk.”