When the Night is Over (Blackbird Series Book 1)

by Lily Foster

  “You’ve already discussed this with Lawrence?” When Janelle looks over to Mrs. Ryan for the save, I know I’ve been left in the dark. “Seems like you two have it all figured out, but I need a little time to think this through.”

  “Of course!” they say in unison.

  A nurse comes out and calls Ethan’s name. As I gather his things, purposefully avoiding any further discussion on the matter, Mrs. Ryan chirps, “Time waits for no man, Charlotte Mason. Carpe diem!”

  Ethan sits in his high chair, ignoring me as he focuses on feeding himself the bits of cereal on his tray. I lean over to kiss his forehead. “Wish me luck, little fella.”

  “Got your number two pencils?”

  “Check, Janelle.”

  “Graphing calculator?”

  “Got it.”

  “Admissions ticket for the test? Identification?”

  “Yes and yes.”

  “Good luck, sweetheart.”

  I walk over and hug her tight. “Thank you. Really, Janelle, thank you so much.”

  It’s a total long shot. Even if I do ace the exam—and that’s unlikely given that I’ve pretty much taught myself Algebra Two and the very basics of Calculus from outdated textbooks—my application has more holes in it than the ozone layer. I don’t have any teacher recommendations, having not finished a full year at this high school. My one and only recommendation is from Mrs. Ryan, who knows squat in terms of my scholastic aptitude aside from what she saw on those old transcripts from Pennsylvania. And I’m applying with a GED instead of a high school diploma. My essay is pretty solid, if you ask me, but my answer to the question: What obstacles have you encountered in life and how have you learned to overcome them? underscores the fact that I am a teenage mother. I don’t know what the admission committee’s opinion on that will be.

  But even with the uphill climb I’m facing, I’ll admit, something old but familiar has been sparking to life inside of me. Opportunity is knocking, and while caring for Ethan fills me with a sense of joy, this is different. For the first time in a long while, I’m excited about the idea of me.

  Walking back over to my son to give him one more quick kiss, I whisper, “You and me baby…We’re going places.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Charlotte

  The summers are the only thing the Upper Peninsula has going for it. Sounds harsh, but I’m officially sick of freezing my ass off. Bringing logs in for the fireplace seemed quaint the first time I did it, but the novelty has worn off. So I’m beyond pleased to see the green buds on the sugar maples dotting Janelle’s property. And looking out over the sparkling expanse of water, I’m excited for Ethan to discover the rocks and cool little critters that inhabit the shoreline in the years to come, even though it’s pretty much mid-August before you can wade in up to your ankles without risking hypothermia. Lake Superior is no joke.

  It’s not like Ann Arbor boasts a comfortable climate in the winter, but the busy college town is far more welcoming. I’ve kind of come to love it this spring. Janelle and I have gotten in the habit of staying on a few extra days when we venture down for Ethan’s appointments. We take the baby for walks down Washington Street and always hit the farmers’ market on Saturdays when we’re in town. We walk the campus. We explore the museum, the arboretum and the quad with its Hogwarts feel. I have to pinch myself, still hardly able to wrap my head around the fact that I’ll be a member of the incoming freshman class this September.

  Janelle surprised me when she offered to pay for my schooling in full, insisting that since I was now a state resident it wouldn’t be hard to swing. But I turned her down. In addition to everything she’s already done for me, she was going to be covering housing and childcare. I was determined to pay the tuition on my own. It was time to get my hands on my money.

  I could have arranged for the bank in Pittsburgh to transfer my funds to the small savings account I’d opened in Ann Arbor—that would have been the easiest and smartest thing to do—but I think there’s a glutton for punishment inside all of us. So Janelle and I set out at six that morning in July, taking the four hour connecting flight through Detroit that would land us in Pittsburgh. Lawrence stepped up to watch Ethan, and although I hated leaving him in anyone else’s care, I left that morning free of worry, knowing Lawrence is just as safety conscious as I am.

  Ethan wasn’t out of the woods, but now at nearly fifteen months, his doctors are pleased with his progress. He’s scheduled to see his specialists every four months now, and if all goes well this year, he’ll graduate to six-month follow-ups. He’s on the small side for his age, was slow to sit up independently, and is now just beginning to pull himself up to a stand using the coffee table for support, but he’s been meeting his language and learning milestones right on target—I’ve been studying those child development books since the day he was born.

  The car rental was ready when we landed, and the business at the bank in downtown Pittsburgh took no more than an hour. I walked out with a check for fourteen thousand dollars tucked into my wallet. Along with a grant for single parents Mrs. Ryan helped secure, and a “nontraditional family” scholarship of one thousand dollars I got for writing an essay of the groveling variety, I’d be able to cover my freshman year. I planned on earning merit scholarship money with my kick ass grades and taking out loans when necessary to finance the rest.

  It takes less than an hour to drive from the bank to Mason Motors. I was going to do this alone, but when I told Janelle about my plan to visit my father, she insisted on coming along for the trip. Solid move on her part, knowing full well that seeing him was not her idea of a vacation. It wasn’t mine either.

  The building was massive in my memory, with its endless sea of shiny new trucks and cars surrounding it, but now it seems less imposing. Compared to what I’ve seen outside of this small town, my dad’s business doesn’t impress. And I guess Liza was the one who handled the seasonal landscaping and other decorative touches, because Independence Day is just around the corner, but unlike years past, you’d never know it. There are no red, white and blue displays of patriotism to be seen.

  I take a deep breath to calm my nerves when we pull into the lot. It’s the middle of the afternoon, and I’m praying I don’t see any familiar faces when we walk in. I love my son more than anything on this earth, but the idea of making his existence known to the people of my hometown coats me in shame. In that moment, I am not an incoming freshman at one of the most competitive state universities in the country. I am not a competent young woman who has taken on the responsibility of raising a medically fragile child, and done a damn good job of it too, thank you very much. No, I am nothing more than an unwed teenage mother. Nothing more than that sixteen year-old girl who was too stupid to know that taking antibiotics to combat a mild case of back acne would render the stolen birth control pills she was taking all but useless. I fight off my insecurities and take strength from Janelle when she squeezes my hand.

  Christian is on the phone. His mouth hangs open, momentarily stunned when he sees me. He resumes talking with his eyes fixed on me. His look isn’t angry or shocked. No, he plays it off like he’s devoid of emotion. I mirror his expression as I take him in. He looks the same: a good looking man but one who isn’t putting enough effort into his appearance. He’s still got the makings of the pot belly he was growing before I left, and he looks like he could use a woman to shop for him. His tie clashes with his shirt, and he’s wearing a brown belt in contrast to his black shoes. He presses a device on his desk, and within a minute my father appears.

  Like the business itself, my father seems less imposing as he walks over to greet his daughter and his sister with a smile. It’s the same smile he uses to greet prospective customers. I’m expecting him to say, “What can I help you folks with today?” so I’m surprised when he hugs me. It’s a stiff hug. He doesn’t pull me in close.

  “Charlotte,” he says as he pulls back to look at me. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”r />
  I smile back at him and shrug my shoulders.

  “Janelle.”

  “No hug for me, big brother?” She teases with a smile, but there’s an edge to her voice.

  He gives her the same awkward hug. “So what brings you two here today?”

  What a weird question. It’s as if my father has never considered the possibility that I would someday come home. He carted me off without even saying goodbye, has gone almost two years without once making contact, and now stands here and acts like everything is copacetic. He doesn’t ask about my life, or ask: Hey, what’d you ever do about that pickle you got yourself into last year? His refusal to acknowledge me pisses me off.

  “We came back to clear out that bank account mom started for me.”

  “The account we opened for you?” Talk of money piques Christian’s interest. He’s still on the phone, or pretending to be, but he’s listening. “That was money I put aside for you. Money I wanted to go towards your education.”

  “It is going towards her education.” Janelle looks to me and winks before looking back to my father, her chin raised in defiance. “Charlotte’s going to be a freshman at the University of Michigan this September.” There’s an awkward pause before she prompts my father, “You should be proud.”

  He doesn’t hold much love for his sister, that’s as plain as the look on his face. “Don’t tell me what I should be, Janelle.” Turning to me, he says, “I am proud. And I’ll see about the account. I need a few days to look into it.”

  A few days? There’s one person in the dealership at the moment, so some mad spike in sales isn’t tying him up. What an ass. He thinks he still has control, has some power over me, when he has none whatsoever.

  “You don’t need to look into anything. I’ve already been to the bank. I turned eighteen in January, remember?”

  He smiles but his jaw is visibly tight. I want to press him: Did you remember my birthday? It shouldn’t hurt but it does. He wasn’t a terrible father—I never went without, I wasn’t abused—but he wasn’t a good father. He’s not a good man. And looking over to Christian, I recognize the same qualities in him, and know I’ll never reach out to either one of them again. I don’t want them in my life, don’t want them near my son. I don’t want Ethan exposed to their warped brand of masculinity.

  I look my father in the eye and take a deep breath. “Just figured we had a few hours to kill before we flew back, so I wanted to take a spin around the old neighborhood. It was good to see you again, Dad.” Christian still hasn’t greeted me. He’s doing his best Mark Cuban in the middle of some epic deal impersonation. To spite him I call out, “Good to see you too, Christian,” before turning to walk out the door.

  I hold my breath until I reach the rental car. I need three tries before successfully jabbing the key into the ignition with my hand trembling. I see Janelle exit the building then, her face hard as stone as she makes her way to the car.

  “I’m not gonna say it,” she says as she buckles her seatbelt.

  “He’s an asshole,” we say in unison a moment later and then turn to each other laughing.

  “I cannot believe that man’s sperm had anything to do with producing you.”

  “Eww, Janelle. Don’t mention my father and sperm in the same sentence.”

  “Can you believe how arrogant he is? Acting like he had to give you his blessing and permission to get your own money?”

  “I want to deposit that check the minute we get home.”

  “Charlotte, the funds were electronically transferred. That paper is just a receipt. Don’t worry, he can’t get his hands on the money.”

  “Thank God. He still has that way about him, you know?”

  “Intimidating?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s all about the show, there’s no true substance there.” She rests her hand on mine as I shift into drive. “I shouldn’t talk that way about him to you. It isn’t fair.”

  “It’s all right, Janelle. I’m not exactly his biggest fan right now. Can you believe he never even asked me what happened?”

  “He knows.”

  “He does?”

  Oddly, I’m not shaken up by the news. I’m focused on driving now. I have several places I want to see and checking those places off on my list is of greater importance to me than my relationship with my father.

  “I called him when you were in the hospital, the night before you and Ethan were having surgery. It didn’t feel right not to let him know. I didn’t know what was going to happen.”

  “What was his reaction?”

  “He was mad at me, of course!” She shakes her head. “He does love you and your brother, but he doesn’t have a healthy way of demonstrating love. I’d like to say your mother’s stroke was the reason, but he was never an emotionally giving person.” Janelle looks over to me to gauge my reaction when she says, “I gave him a picture of Ethan before I left just now. It pissed me off that he hasn’t ask about him in all this time.” She lets out a cheerless laugh. “I guess I have a flair for the dramatic…Handed the picture to him and said, ‘Just in case you’ve been wondering about your grandson. He’s healthy and doing well, by the way. And Charlotte’s a great mother to him.’ I added, ‘You raised her well,’ just to stick it to him.”

  “You’re badass, Janelle.”

  “Damn straight.” She turns to me again. “You’re not mad I gave him a picture of Ethan, are you?” When I shake my head, she lets out a relieved breath. “Now where are we heading? I hope there’s a DQ in this backwards town.”

  “There is, but you’re bringing my cone out to the car. I want to stop by a few of my old haunts, not walk into an impromptu reunion.”

  We drive by my house, even though no one is home. I don’t even know why I want to see it. Looking at the flaking paint and the dead flower beds makes my father’s stiff hug and Christian’s cold reception cut even deeper. I don’t care, I don’t care. I’ve been repeating the words to myself the entire ride over here, knowing the need to say the words is proof that I’m lying.

  Next stop is Daisy’s. She lives just a few blocks over. There are no cars in the driveway and the mailbox is stuffed with flyers, envelopes and magazines keeping it propped open. Was I planning to knock on the door if someone was home? I’m not sure. I want to know how she’s been, who she went to prom with, where she’s going to school. I want to know if she’s still close with Sarah. I hope she is. I hope Sarah is the friend Daisy always deserved. I miss her. I wonder if she ever thinks about me.

  Janelle sits quietly as we make our way over to the other side of town. I pass the turn off for the dirt road that used to take me and Simon down to our secret spot by the river. I pass Tyler’s trailer, speeding up slightly when I see the door open and Tyler steps out onto the landing with some girl who is not Skylar. I have to remind myself that it’s been nearly two years—things change. I slow to a stop when we approach Simon’s trailer, pulling over a good twenty feet away.

  “Who lives here?”

  “Simon.” I correct myself. “He used to live here.”

  Should I knock? Say hello to his mother? I won’t tell her. I’ll just make like I’m passing through town. Just ask her to tell Simon I said hello the next time she talks to him.

  “Just give me a minute,” I say as I go to let myself out of the car. I’m not kidding myself. I’m knocking on his mother’s door in the hopes that I’ll get something, some nugget of information. Wondering about what he’s been up to and who he’s with has been gnawing at me since the day he left. It’s too tempting. I can’t leave without at least trying. But as I go to close the car door behind me, a man and a young child step out. A woman with a swollen belly follows. I take in the scene, noticing for the first time how different it all looks. Trash bags are piled up on the side of the trailer with gaping holes in them, proof that the local raccoons are being well fed. A bent and discarded screen lies in the dirt below the window. The wreath that used to hang on the door is gone.<
br />
  “Excuse me…I’m looking for Mrs. Wade. Does she still live here?”

  He doesn’t answer, just eyes me with suspicion. His woman pipes up, “I’ve never heard of her. We moved in this past winter.”

  I smile at her and then smile at her surly man, hoping to soften him, willing him to be kind to his child and to her. “Thank you. You have a nice day.”

  She gives her man a cautious glance and then smiles back at me. “You too now.”

  It’s ridiculous, feeling sad for this pregnant woman, someone I’ve never laid eyes on before today. Maybe I see myself in her, see my personal worst case scenario. But no, even if I’d told Simon, even if he was trapped here and life became only work and raising Ethan with me, I could never see him turning into a version of that man. Poverty never defined Simon. His quiet dignity was one of the many things I admired about him.

  Pulling into the DQ parking lot, I tell Janelle not to get me anything. My eyes follow as she walks inside and orders at the counter. I don’t recognize the girl at the register, who looks to be no more than fourteen. And Janelle is the only customer. I came here telling myself that I didn’t want to be spotted, but now feel an overwhelming sense of disappointment.

  I am invisible, a ghost wandering through the streets of my hometown. It’s as if I fell off the face of the earth and no one cared to ask why. Deep down, I was hoping for someone, for Daisy or Garth or Sienna to see me, to press me for details about my life. To grab me in a bear hug and ask: Where have you been, girl? We’ve missed you! I’d hug them back, no matter who it was, happy for any link to my past. Then I’d give them the heading off to college highlights, not the baby with a congenital heart condition tale of woe. And voilà, the people of this town would know that I still exist. Maybe someone would get word to Simon. Tell him where I was going to school, give him something to go on. Give him a way to find me.

  Sulking, I text Janelle to get me a chocolate dipped cone, needing to drown my sorrows in some ice cream now that I’ve fully acknowledged what this trip was all about. And if connecting with Simon in a cowardly, through the grapevine-kind of way truly was my end game, I didn’t accomplish a damn thing.