by Randi Rigby
“So, Tennant’s a better Dr. Who because he’s dreamier?”
“No, that’s just a bonus. How shallow do you think I am?” I shook my head as we climbed the stairs to the second floor of the little strip mall on Sunset Boulevard that housed heaven. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. I need you to be nice to me tonight.”
“Jack?!”
I’d seen shock before: the draining disbelief on my father’s face when he’d been trying to reach Mom for over an hour with no response and then suddenly two police officers were on our front doorstep quietly asking if we were the family of Greer Kingston McCoy; Drew, when he discovered it was his absentee father inexplicably peering into the windows of the Mini; and my friend Maggie in downtown Chicago when we inadvertently ran into her mother and the man it turned out she was having an affair with coming out of a hotel. From the hunted look on the thin, pale face of the woman standing in front of us completely out of place in a Stella McCartney sleeveless, black sheath and sleek Louboutin heels it would appear Jack was the last person on the planet she expected or wanted to run into tonight.
“Lily?” I could feel the tension rolling off Jack in waves. Lily was wearing a wedding ring. The plot thickened.
Neither of them seemed capable of speech so after an interminable silence I turned into my mother. “Lily? Hi, I’m Kel McCoy. Jack and I work together.” This was meant to be soothing and friendly but she seemed instantly stung. I was rattled but my mother’s persistent belief in manners being able to save the day ran deep. “We were just about to grab a bite to eat. Would you like to join us?”
She started to shake her head no but then surprised us all. “Yes, I think I would.”
I squeezed Jack’s arm. Wordlessly, he opened the door to Sushi Park for us. Still smiling, I sat between them, a long, leggy Switzerland. Even our waiter, who was quite good-looking and very flirty at first, quickly abandoned me for the safety of a hasty retreat. I pretended to study the menu I already had memorized while Jack and Lily continued to breathe the same oxygen.
“Would you please excuse me for a moment?” I whispered to Jack once our order had been taken, desperate to escape the table and give them some privacy. He didn’t move.
“Why are you doing this, Lil?” He finally said.
Her eyes flickered woodenly to mine and back to his. “Curiosity, I guess.”
“Satisfied?”
She pulled a hundred dollar bill out of her purse to cover her order and threw it on the table as she got to her feet. “Not for a long time, Jack. But I think you already knew that.”
“Don’t.” Elbows on the table, Jack buried his forehead in the palms of his hands when it was clear she was gone.
I put my arm around him and leaned my head against his shoulder. “Do you want to get out of here?”
“I promised you Sushi Park.”
I hunted down our waiter and returned as quickly as I could. Jack was still staring unseeing at his plate. “They’ve packaged up the first three. I’ve settled our bill.” I looked at my phone. “Our ride will be here any minute. Come on.”
Jack followed me up to my hotel room but he stayed in the hall. “Aren’t you coming in?” I asked.
“No. Enjoy your sushi, Kel. I need to clear my head. I’m going to go for a run.”
“Give me a minute, I’ll change and run with you.”
“Thanks, but I think I need to be alone.”
There was a sadness I couldn’t shake as I nodded and held him tightly. “Promise you’ll text me when you get back? Just so I know you’re safe?”
He wrapped a finger around a lock of my hair and sighed. “You’re doing it again.”
“I know. I can’t help it.”
Resting his forehead against mine I felt him leave before he’d actually gone. “Night, Kel.”
The next morning we met at breakfast. Jack looked tired but thankfully not hung over. I handed him a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. He took a sip and grinned wryly. “Someone’s been busy.”
“Just drink it.”
“Did you run on the treadmill?”
“I did.”
“Sorry. I just couldn’t drag my butt out of bed this morning.”
A waiter was approaching our table carrying plates. “I ordered your omelet for you.”
Jack cocked his head. “Careful Kel, we’re starting to feel like an old married couple.”
“Good. You ready to talk about Lily?”
“No.”
“Eat your breakfast. The car will be here in twenty minutes.”
He picked up his fork. “Too bad they didn’t have any…”
I pushed the little white covered bowl next to my plate over to his. Lifting the lid, he sheepishly dumped the rest of the salsa on his omelet and gave me his cantaloupe. Maybe we did spend too much time together.
My phone alerted me to a text from Camila. Carmen’s abuela got shipped off to a detention center!
What? Quickly, I turn off the chicken I was in the middle of stir frying for dinner and called her. “Camila? What happened?”
Camila had a bad habit of switching to rapid fire Spanish when she was excited so it took me awhile to sort it all out but apparently Senorita Mendes was caught in an ICE raid while visiting the home of a sick friend who had a son with some legal troubles that weren’t just limited to documentation. Wrong place, wrong time. “Do something, Kel.” Camila was crying now. “All of her family are here. She’s old. It’s not fair.”
“I know. I’m so sorry, Camila. I love her too. My cousin Ben is a lawyer in New York. Let me call him and ask him for his advice. Let’s see what he says.”
“Was she here illegally?” Ben got right to the point.
“Technically, yes. But she’s been here for over fifty years. She’s had three children here. She’s paid into the system. They’ve paid into the system. They’re all hard working, law abiding people…with the exception of that one little form.”
“Sorry, Kel. That one little form is a deal breaker. The best thing you can do at this point is to start the application process for naturalization. If she’s as sweet as you say, the family should be able to get her released on bond while she waits for her hearing.”
“Sometimes,” I told Charlie morosely as I ended my call. “Life is not fair.”
The detention center was in Taylor, forty miles away. Dad lent me his car so I could haul all the girls there for a visit. It was like walking into a prison. Senorita Mendes was brought in shrunken and gray, her step slow and unsure, in an obnoxious orange jumpsuit that was rolled back at the arms and legs but still swimming on her.
Carmen immediately got to her feet but the security guard gave her pause. We waited for him to step back. It was obvious he enjoyed this little play of power. “Senorita Mendes, how are you?” I asked in Spanish and I touched her arm. “Here are the girls. They miss you too.” My Spanish still wasn’t great but at least it got them talking. Tears were trickling down her cheeks. Now everyone was crying.
“We will get you out of here,” I whispered in her ear as I leaned down to hug her before we left.
“Jack, what would you think of me using my social media platform to draw attention and maybe apply pressure to an unfair situation?” We were sitting at my kitchen table after dinner, the faint sound of the dishwasher quietly running a cycle in the background. He was editing our latest vlog I did with Jasmine, my hair stylist and a good friend, with all kinds of quick and easy styling tips for wash and wear hair. My chin was deep into my hands, my elbows resting on everything I could find on immigration law.
He looked up at me. “Like what?”
I told him about Senorita Mendes.
He listened impassively and waited until it was clear I was done. “No. Don’t do it.”
“Why? What’s the point of having any kind of influence if you can’t use it for good?”
“Not everyone sees good the same way you do, Kel. Once you get political you risk offending someone. You can�
��t afford that.”
“Seriously? I’m a model. I’m not running for public office.”
“You may not have noticed this—your focus is always on getting to know the people you’re working with at shoots—but quite frequently, along with the model’s name on the callboard, they post how many followers she has. It’s just sitting right there for everyone to see. But even if it’s not that in your face, you’re kidding yourself if you think this doesn’t matter.”
“So only take a stand on moisturizers and the best beach waves?” I indicated his laptop screen with a touch of disdain and a wrinkled nose.
Jack shrugged. “It’s what the people want.”
“Do they?”
“Have I ever steered you wrong before?”
I sighed. “I don’t like you very much right now.”
“Psh. You know you love me,” he grinned.
“Yeah,” I reluctantly smiled back at him. “Well, you make me crazy.”
Things between Dad and Erin had cooled slightly. They’d decided to slow it down, take their time, not rush into anything—parental code for Ava was being a colossal pain. To be fair, the holidays didn’t help. Memories of Mom were inescapable and oh so vividly threaded through even our barest of bones Christmas—and January 26th still had to be faced. Maybe Dad realized his heart wasn’t as free as he thought it was. But my money was on Ava.
She kept showing up at Drew’s games.
“Why is that girl here again?” Ginny frowned, giving me a hug and scooting to make room for me on the bleachers. She knew Ava’s name; she just refused to use it. Ava was laughing three rows below us with a couple of friends she’d brought with her—their glossy heads were frequently bent together. They were wearing MacArthur colors and she’d painted Drew’s number on her cheeks.
“Maybe she just really likes basketball. Hey Tanika! Great earrings.”
Ginny wouldn’t let it go. “I’m pretty sure her school has a team.”
Drew nailed a three-pointer from way outside the arc and the MacArthur fans were on their feet. I had to shout to be heard. “THEY DON’T HAVE DREW.”
“NEITHER DOES SHE!”
At half-time Ginny, Tanika and I got out to stretch our (okay, my) legs and go to the bathroom (I’d converted them all to drinking more water—even Striker, though he’d never admit it). Across the gym in the visitor’s section I was startled to spot Drew’s father sitting alone in the crowd. He was almost unrecognizable from the last time I saw him at Drew’s birthday party. He was wearing a ball cap but it was obvious his hair was all gone—it was unnaturally white where his hairline used to be. His face seemed pinched and pale, and from the way his clothes were hanging on him I’d say he’d lost a lot of weight. My stomach lurched. “You’re coming, right?” Ginny said, pulling on my arm.
Matt’s parents were out of town for the weekend; everyone was heading over to his house after the game. See, I was paying attention. “We are.” Andy was still looking down at his phone.
“What are you staring at?” Ginny stood on her tiptoes, trying to follow my gaze.
I quickly shook my head and drug my eyes away from him. “Nothing. But I’m not sure how late we’ll stay tonight, G. Drew has to open the store tomorrow.”
“What are you guys, eighty?”
When we returned to the gym Ava and her entourage were standing in the aisle chatting, effectively blocking our path back to our seats. “Hey Ava,” I said.
I expected the usual scowl and dismissal of my person but she was beaming at me. She tossed her hair and I wondered, not for the first time, if she and Whitney were secretly related. “Kel, these are my friends, Brynn and Jessica. They’re big Texas Tall fans. I told them you’d take a selfie with them.”
“Oh, hi.” Beside me Ginny was seething. The girls already had their phones out. I smiled at them. “I’d love to. Brynn, right? Do you want me to take it? I’ve got these crazy long arms. They’ve got to be good for something.”
“That girl’s got some nerve!” Ginny glowered when we finally got back to our seats. “Why do you put up with that?”
“It’s so not a big deal, G.” I was scanning the room for Andy. He was gone from his earlier spot. He was nowhere in sight. The second half was about to start. The referee blew his whistle— MacArthur threw the ball in and the spirited student section was already on their feet, loud and proud. I leaned over, close to Ginny’s ear. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” Ginny and my brain wanted to know.
It was a good question. One I didn’t have an answer for. I found him sitting on a bench by MacArthur’s front doors, looking exhausted and frail. “Mr. Jarrod? Are you okay?”
He hesitated before answering. “I guess I’m a little more tired than I thought I’d be.”
“Is there something I can do? May I get you anything?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got a car coming to pick me up.”
I sat down beside him. “Does Drew know you’re here?”
“What do you think?”
“I think your relationship is complicated,” I sighed.
“Did you ever give him the letter?”
“I left it for him the night of his party. I don’t know if he read it or not.”
Outside a car had just pulled up. Andy got unsteadily to his feet. “Do me a favor? Don’t tell him I was here.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t want his pity.” I saw now where Drew got his stubborn streak. He looked back at me as he slowly pushed the door open. “Take care of him for me, Kel?”
“I will.” I wondered if anyone was taking care of Andy.
Much later, deep from inside Matt’s house, music was thumping, the sound slightly muffled until the balcony door slid open and the golden goodness of Beyonce spilled out into the night.
“There you are,” Drew said, joining me on the back porch. “Thought I lost you. What are you doing out here by yourself? Aren’t you cold?”
“Hmm? Just thinking.”
He wrapped his arms tight around my shoulders and kissed my neck. “About what?”
I relaxed against him and waited a bit before answering. “Did you ever read that letter your dad wrote you?”
He immediately stiffened. “No. Why?”
“He was at your game tonight,” I quietly said and turned around in his arms so I could see his face. Storm clouds were already gathering. “Drew, he’s sick.”
“What did he do?” The muscle clench in Drew’s jaw was back.
“No, I mean seriously physically ill. I almost didn’t recognize him. He had to leave at half-time. He looked exhausted.”
Drew took a step back. “Why are you telling me this? Did he talk to you?”
I raised my chin at him. “I needed to make sure he was okay.”
“And what? He asked you to try again?”
“No. Actually, he asked me not to say anything to you at all.”
“Then why are you?”
“Because I’m done keeping secrets from you, Drew. And your father’s really sick. I just thought you should know.” I reached up and kissed his cheek. “I’m going to call it a night, babe. I’m tired. It’s been a long week. See you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” Drew echoed, his hand lingering on mine. He stared out at the black expanse of Matt’s unlit backyard, a frown creasing his brow. I guess now we both had some things to think about.
“You’ve changed, Kel.”
I looked up from my physics homework spread across my table tray. We were on a plane bound for New York and my Vogue shoot. Aunt Shae was staring thoughtfully at me. “I have? How?”
“You’re so much more confident now, much more polished. You’re not our little Grace anymore.” Shae sounded almost wistful.
I smiled at her. “I don’t think I was ever really little.”
“You know what I mean. A year ago, could you see yourself here?”
A year ago, for at least three more days,
my mother was still alive. My life was consumed with ballet, choir concerts, hanging out at home, and perfect attendance—you got a medal at the end of the year if you pulled it off and I’d always been reward driven. Ironic that I gave Jake a hard time about being a nerd, I was as nerdy as they came.
“No.” I wondered what Mom would think of her latest of late blooming daughter shamelessly trading in on her genetic good fortune. Mom was not unaware of the way she looked—she just was uninterested in it defining her. I put down my mechanical pencil. “Do you think Mom would approve?” It was a question I’d been asking myself a lot lately.
“Of course she would. Greer was your biggest fan.”
I swallowed hard. “It’s not the same thing though, is it?”
“Are you happy with your choices, Kel?”
“Most of the time.”
“Then believe me, as a mother and as someone who also loves you, that’s all Greer ever wanted for you.”
“Really?” I couldn’t help but feel skeptical. “I’ve given up on almost everything she encouraged me to do.”
Shae put her hand on my arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Moms have a tendency to direct their children to things they think will help them grow. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn’t, maybe it does and they discover they’ve learned all they could from it and it’s time to move on to something else. The goal is always to get your children to the point where they are armed with a skill set and enough experience to make good decisions for themselves. You’re not just book smart, Kel; you’re intuitive. Trust that. Greer would’ve.”
Shae’s words were still ringing in my ears later that afternoon when I was sitting on set with four other models as the lights were being reset.
“So, wait, you live in Austin?” Daphne’s dark eyes were rimmed with purple and she was propping up the stars twisted throughout her gravity defying hair with a hand heavy with gaudy rings.
“I do,” I said, as Scotty carefully powdered down the shine on my face. I’d been under the lights the longest and beads of perspiration were ruining his handiwork. I was careful not to move while he checked on the rhinestones glued to my cheekbones.