by Keary Taylor
“Absolutely,” I say. “I did some research on them. They have money. And I mean serious money. They’re the second best ranked private school in the state. They don’t normally hire brand new teachers like me. So this is pretty golden that they’ve asked me to come in.”
“And it’s in Olympia?” he asks, his voice excited. Armando lives just ten minutes outside the capital city. There’d be no more driving long distances between us.
“Yeah,” I say. I’m trying to sound and be excited. But all I have is a black hole of dread or despair in my stomach.
“And it would give you some distance from a certain heartbreak,” he says with logic and wisdom.
I look forward, our breath creating a constant cloud around us. My nose feels frozen and my toes are starting to get cold as well. I nod. “The position starts with the new semester. I guess their previous teacher has some family issues going on and needs to retire early to deal with it all.”
“So you’d be going in what? Two months?”
I nod.
Armando comes to a stop when we reach the edge of the park. I take two more steps before my head comes to the present and realize he is no longer by my side. He reaches out and takes my hands in his. I look into his brown eyes, feeling all the support that has been between us these past eight years we’ve known each other. He’ll know what is best for me.
Because I have no idea.
“I would love having you so close by,” he says, and I can tell he knows he isn’t necessarily telling me what I want to hear. He knows why this is so difficult. “I think you’re at the point where you’re ready to discover who you are, as a real deal grown up and person, Ray of Kaylee. You have some healing to do and as hard as I know this would be for you, I think some distance might do you some good.”
I don’t say anything for a while, just stare at him and feel all the fragile pieces in me crackle and threaten to break. “You think I should go for the interview?”
Armando nods. A huge breath whooshes out of me and I relax forward into his arms and squeeze him tight. “Thanks for always being there for me.”
“Except for that fire over the weekend,” he says as he presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m sorry I was too preoccupied with Anthony. You always come first, you know that, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, tears pricking at the back of my eyes. “I do.”
Just as I walk through the door when I get home that night, my cell starts ringing. It’s Dick’s house number.
“Hello,” I say, pinning my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I unlock my door.
“Have you checked the picture today?” Skyler’s excited voice comes through. “There’s something there!”
“What?” I say and my grasp on my keys falters. I hurriedly get it open and rush over to my computer. “How do you know?”
“Dad’s been watching the picture online,” Skyler says. He sounds excited and keyed up.
“Can I talk to him?” I ask as I log into my account. It shows I have seventy-eight notifications between shares and comments. I click to the comments and start reading through them.
“Hey, Kaylee,” Dick says. “You on the computer?”
“Yeah,” I say distractedly as I continue reading through the comments. Most of them say things like hope you find him, good luck, and God bless!
“Check the one that’s the fifth from the last,” he says. I can almost hear the smile on his face.
I scroll right to the bottom and backtrack five.
And there the comment is. I was at that party. My friend was dressed as a pirate and disappeared with a pretty little bumblebee. Message me.
“Oh my gosh,” I breathe. “Dick, this guy was friends with my birth father.”
“Sounds like it,” he says with a little, happy chuckle. “I think you should get off the phone now and talk to this guy.”
“Yeah,” I say with a laugh. A genuine smile has broken onto my face. It’s huge and it feels so good. But I’m also nervous. “Yeah, I think I should.”
“Good luck, kiddo,” he says.
“Thanks, Dick,” I say and hang up.
I click on the name next to the comment: Donny Setter. He looks like he’s about forty. About the age my dad should be. His profile picture is him with a woman and two teenage boys. Their skin is as dark as Armando’s. They’re all smiling and happy.
I click on the message section and set to typing with nervous fingers.
You commented on my picture that your friend might be my dad. Can we talk?
I click send before I check to see where he lives. But it doesn’t show in his profile.
It’s hard to be patient. It might be days before he sees my message, some people never log into their accounts. But when making a comment like that, one that could be so important to someone’s life, I would hope he’d be checking frequently.
I leave my laptop open on my bed as I start getting ready for bed. I distractedly plan out my lessons for next week. And keep looking up at the computer.
Finally, just before ten o’clock, a notification comes up. A message.
Hi there. Yeah, I think I might be able to give you some answers. We should get together and talk. Promise I’m not a creep.
I chuckle and set my fingers to the keyboard. Where do you live? I’m in Woodinville.
I’m in Seattle. Maybe we could talk tomorrow evening?
Tell me where and when.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Just when you’re sure your life has come to a standstill and that you’ll never move forward from the worst times of your life, things suddenly speed up.
I would love to interview, I respond to the email from the private school. I can come in any afternoon.
I click send during my lunch break and nervously wait for a response. It comes less than five minutes later. We set up an appointment for me to come down tomorrow afternoon.
My stomach keeps getting butterflies and then killing them with nervous acid that I swear will eat all of me up. School gets out, I head home, and stare at the clock, waiting for it to be time to go.
As I walk to my car I wonder if maybe I should have had Armando come with me. This Donny guy said he wasn’t a creep, but anyone can say anything online.
But I’m Kaylee Ray, and I can’t help but see the best in people. From our few words back and forth, it didn’t seem like he had any sinister motives.
It’s a fifteen minute drive to where we’re meeting in Seattle. We’re on the outskirts, thankfully, so we’ll miss most of the chaotic roads and expensive parking. I pull up to the curb and sit in my car for a few minutes since I arrived early.
No matter what happens today, if I learn my father’s identity or if this leads to nowhere, it doesn’t affect who I am as a person. Like Armando, said, life has forced me to face harsh reality and to realize I am an adult in a real world. If I find the other half of my genetic makeup, that’s great. If not, I will move on. And I’ll keep looking.
Finally, I climb out of my Mini and head inside.
I recognize Donny from his profile picture. He sits inside on a bench, his hands clasped together between his knees. He looks about as nervous as I feel.
“You must be Kaylee,” he says with a smile as he stands and holds his hand out to me. “I’m Donny.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say. Nerves are still vibrating through my veins, but they feel a bit more settled at seeing that Donny doesn’t look like a psychopathic killer.
“Table for two?” the host asks. We both give a nod and she leads us into the restaurant. The table toward the back is comfortable with dim, soft lights, and a quiet location. Perfect for talking.
“So, why don’t you tell me about yourself?” I say as I open my menu. Every cell of my vocal cords wants to ask the immediate question: what do you know? But I’m scared. Once he gives it to me, I have to hold it, no matter how heavy—or light—it may be.
“Uh,” he starts, opening his own menu. “I grew up
in Sedro Wolley. Graduated high school there and then started at Seattle Community before transferring. I’m a dentist now. My wife is Shaundra, and we’ve got two boys. One is a freshman, the other is a junior.”
I nod, giving a small smile. Seems like a legit story. And he is wearing a gold wedding band.
“How about you?” Donny asks.
“Graduated from La Connor,” I start, propping my chin up on my hand, elbow to the table. “Went to college at Western. I just finished my student teaching in the spring. I’m a bit over two months into my first real deal teaching job.”
“Oh,” he says with a smile and a nod. “You’re a high school teacher, I’m guessing.”
“Correct,” I laugh. There’s something about Donny that is easy going and relaxed. “I teach world and ancient history. And one period of historical literature.”
Just then a waitress shows up to take our orders. We rattle them off and she disappears once again.
“So,” he says after a few moments of awkward silence. “About that picture you posted.”
“The reason we’re here,” I say uncomfortably. My pulse picks up and maybe it’s my blood pressure or the stress or maybe I’m just going crazy, but suddenly all my senses seem dull and I feel like I’m in slow motion.
“I was a freshman at Seattle Com then,” Donny starts. His fingers wrap around his water glass and he spins it slowly, leaving a ring of condensation on the table. “Like I said, I grew up in Sedro Wolley, which isn’t far from Burlington, where that party was, as you know. We heard about this big costume shindig that was going on, so we decided to go home for the weekend. It was Halloween.”
I stare at Donny, who’s looking right at that water glass like it’s a movie screen and he can see history playing before him.
“I went as a rock star. It was a lame costume but I didn’t have much to work with,” he chuckles. “There were seven of us from our high school that went. Like an impromptu reunion. We went to the party and it was pretty awesome.”
He looks up at me finally and my heart jumps into my throat.
“Josh always had a way with the ladies,” he finally says. The rock drops from my throat and I suddenly feel light. Light enough to float away. A name. Josh. “He spotted this pretty young girl at the party. Dressed like a bumblebee, of all things.” He smiles at the recollection.
“My mom,” I say quietly. “Her name is Karen.”
Donny nods. “Josh the pirate spent the whole night talking to that bumblebee. They laughed and danced. And then after about an hour they disappeared.”
I know what the next part of the story is. I know what horny teenagers do when they’re having fun and with a willing member of the opposite sex.
“He came back about an hour later and then the night was over,” Donny says, his voice quiet and slow. He looks up at me. “Josh wanted to call that girl from the party back, but he couldn’t find her number. We had school to get back to and time eventually makes you forget things.”
“He never had any clue about me,” I say. There’s no anger behind it, no malice or sadness. It’s just a fact, one I’ve had my entire life to deal with.
Donny shakes his head. “But there’s no doubt in my mind you’re his daughter. Same blond hair. Same cheeks, same eyes.”
This brings a smile to my face. Something in my heart lifts.
“What’s his last name?” I ask.
And at this Donny’s expression falters. “It was Anderson,” he says. His eyes are heavy and he doesn’t look at me.
“Was?” I ask, sounding breathy.
He nods. “Josh died a few years back. Six, if I recall right. He was always a bit of a wild spirit and he loved his adventures. He was out mountain climbing with some other friends and there was an accident. He was killed instantly.”
I don’t say anything for a long while and it takes me a bit to realize that I should. “Oh,” is all I manage.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice quiet. “I know how disappointing this must be.”
My eyes fall to the table and I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know, I guess. I mean, I haven’t really had any real expectations about this situation, you know? I don’t know that I was really looking to form a relationship or anything.”
“That’s gotta be though,” he says. He reaches across the table and places his hand over mine. “Growing up without a father. I can’t imagine my boys going throughout their lives without one.”
“I think I turned out okay enough,” I say with a little chuckle as I meet his eyes again.
“Yeah,” he replies with a smile. “You seem like a good person. I mean, you’ve got a career. You seem healthy and put together.”
A small smile pulls at my lips. I’m not really sure how I feel right now. Not really put together, but not exactly a mess either.
“Josh would have loved to meet you,” Donny says. “Like I said, he was a wild spirit and he loved to play, but if he’d known about you, he would have made a great father.”
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Donny says. He rubs his thumb over my hand before pulling back. “I’m sorry you never got to meet him.”
“Me too.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The campus and staff at the private school in Olympia blow me away. Everything is beautiful and functional and incredible. The staff is highly educated and so professional and so brilliant. It makes me feel out of place; surely I’m far too young and too minimally educated to land this job. But I’m still honored to even get the interview.
And the interview goes fantastic. They mostly ask questions about my views on education, which I answer as honestly as possible. If I were more qualified for this position I’m sure they’d actually be impressed with how I did.
I climb into my car when we’re done and smile to myself. I find myself daydreaming again for the first time in a long, long while.
Great new school. Living just minutes away from my best friend. Brand spanking new start.
The drive home, which seemed so long when I drove down, goes by quickly. I park along the curb outside my apartment and head upstairs.
There is still the slight smell of smoke in my apartment. I’ve spent every free moment washing everything possible. My clothes, my bedding. I’ve scrubbed my floors and counters and wiped down all my bookshelves and dressers. It’s just going to take time for the smell to fade.
At least I’ll have that as an excuse if I have to break my contract and move down to Olympia.
My cell starts vibrating in my purse and I grab it and check the ID. Mom.
“Hi,” I say. I open my fridge to look for something to make for a late dinner.
“Hey sweetie,” she says. There’s always that hesitance in her voice lately whenever I talk to her, like she’s waiting for me to attack her. But I don’t really feel sorry about it, and that’s unusual for me. “How are you doing?”
“Good,” I say, pulling out the tortillas, cheese and some leftover shredded chicken. “You?”
“I’m okay,” she says. “I’ll be getting in tomorrow night.”
“Where are you at now?” I ask. I butter one side of the tortilla and set it into the pan I’ve heated up. I sprinkle some cheese on it and layer the chicken on.
“Atlanta,” she replies. “This is my last business trip.”
“What?” I ask, my brows furrowing as I cover it all up with another tortilla. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you’ve said,” she replies, her voice hesitant again. “About me getting too into my career because I’ve finally figured out how to be an adult. I didn’t like what you said before, it made me pretty angry. But you’re right. I’ve checked out on Skyler and never even realized it until you pointed it out.”
“Okay,” I say because I’m not sure what else to say.
“I talked to the company and told them I need a position where I stay there in Washington,” she hurries on. “They weren’t very happy
about it. But they agreed to let me stay in the offices full-time in Everett.”
A smile starts spreading on my face when I imagine how excited Skyler is going to be when he hears the news. “That’s great, Mom. I’m really proud of you for making this decision.”
“Thanks,” she says. Her voice cracks just slightly and it’s pretty obvious she’s crying by this point. “It was a scary decision, but I’m glad I made it.”
“You made the right choice.” Something tightens in the back of my throat and it’s hard to swallow. So I just flip my quesadilla instead.
“I want to take you and Skyler out for dinner tomorrow night,” she continues. “I thought I could come pick you up first after I get in at the airport and then we could both go surprise Skyler with the news?”
“That sounds really great,” I tell her, a smile forming on my face.
“I’ll see you no later than six.”
“See you mom. I love you, you know that, right?”
She pauses for a moment and I hear her sniff. “I know sweetie. I love you too. See you tomorrow.”
____
We have a meeting the next day during lunch. All the teachers are in the library and Principal Riker drones on and on about stuff. Emergency drills, budget woes, parking lot issues, drug problems in the school.
I’m sitting toward the back of everyone, honestly trying to stay awake and pay attention to what he’s saying. But it’s so hard. No wonder half of the students look at me with that glazed over expression. Do I sound like this?
My eyes keep drifting to Drake though. He’s seated in the row ahead of me, over two seats. He’s close enough I keep catching little drifts of that smell of his. That smells of home and summer and all things peaceful.
But he looks so beaten. He looks sad and tired. His shoulders slump. There are bags under his eyes. He blinks slow and heavy.
I pull my phone out and discreetly start typing.
Are you okay?
I faintly hear Drake’s phone vibrate. His eyes drop to his pocket and he pulls it out. I see him start to turn his head my direction, but he seems to think better of it. His eyes drop to his phone and he starts typing.