by Cassia Leo
Rachel to help me with the planning when we get back from Vegas. I’m sure I can get a lot done before next semester starts.”
“Let’s talk about the wedding later.”
“What do you want to do right now?”
“I’m not going to lie. I was stressed as fuck today at the PT appointment. I kept thinking of you and hoping you were okay. I just want to take a long, hot shower and lie in bed for the rest of the day. We can pack for Vegas tomorrow morning.”
“I can handle that.” I slide off the counter, feeling a little guilty for allowing him to carry me here with his knee the way it is. Sometimes, I forget about it because he never complains. But he insists it’s getting a lot better since he started therapy.
As soon as we’ve showered, we lie down in bed and I pull the red songbook he gave me out of the top drawer of my nightstand.
“I promise I haven’t peeked at the last page. I just want to read while we lie here. Is that okay?”
He grabs the book from me and lays it on his nightstand. “Just tell me what you want to hear and I’ll sing it to you.”
He hops out of bed and grabs his acoustic guitar off the wall. He sits on the edge of the bed and I slide off the bed so I can sit cross-legged on the carpet in front of him.
His eyes are locked on mine as he sings each word to me, his voice soft as a lullaby and I’m mesmerized. Bombs could be going off outside our window and I’d never know.
I may be the melody of Chris’s soul, but Chris is my harmony. He is the one who fills my heart and soul with peace. I’m so glad he will be standing next to me when I see my father on Monday.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chris
Trying to keep a secret from someone you live with, someone who knows everything about you, is like hiding under a box with pinpricks for windows. If you put your eye next to one of those holes, you can see everything on the outside, but no one can see what you’re hiding inside.
Every time Claire says something about Rachel’s wedding, I want to shake her and say, “Can’t you see what’s going on right under your nose?”
“She said she’ll have my dress waiting for me in our hotel room. I can’t believe I don’t even get to try it on again before the wedding,” Claire says as she packs some face soap and creams into her makeup bag. “I mean, the dress looked okay at the fitting, but it was so rough. What if it looks hideous or the seamstress messed up? I just think it was a bad idea to rush this wedding. She and Jake have been together more than seven years. Why did they have to get married on New Year’s Eve?”
I grab her hairbrush out of the top drawer and hand it to her so she doesn’t forget it. “Maybe they didn’t want to wait anymore. Don’t you ever feel like going to the courthouse and getting married without anyone knowing?”
“Not really. I want your mom there at the very least.”
“I think they’re doing the right thing. They’ve put it off for too long as it is. They’ve been living together for more than three years,” I reply as I follow her into the bedroom.
She stuffs her makeup bag into her suitcase and zips the suitcase closed. “We’ve lived together for more than three years. That doesn’t mean I want to rush to set a date for the wedding. Anyway, the point is, if I hate this dress, Rachel is going to owe me big time.”
I grab her suitcase off the bed and set it on the floor. “Are you ready to go?”
Her eyes widen as she realizes this is it. “No, I’m not ready, but I’ve got no choice. I have to see my sister.”
“And you’re sure you don’t want to at least try to call before you show up?”
“I don’t want to give him any opportunity to put on a mask. That whole letter reeked of someone with something to hide.”
I can see that she’s trying to be strong despite her growing anxiety. I smooth her hair back and kiss her forehead and she lets out a deep sigh.
“Everything is going to be fine.”
We arrive at my mom’s house to pick up a pair of heels Claire ordered for the wedding. She had them delivered to the house in case they arrived after Claire and I left to California. When we pull into the driveway, Joel is rolling my mom’s red suitcase down the walkway toward us.
“What the fuck?” I mutter.
“Be nice,” Claire insists as I get out of the car.
“What’s going on?” I ask as Joel approaches me with the suitcase.
“Your mom is almost ready.”
“We’re just here for the shoes. My mom’s flight isn’t until tomorrow.”
Joel raises his eyebrows as if this is out of his control. “She said she was going with you two. She wants to be there for Claire.”
My mom comes strutting down the walkway with her coat on and her purse over her shoulder.
“Mom, what are you doing? Claire and I are going to California alone.”
“She’s my daughter. I’m going with her whether you like it or not.” She kisses Joel on the cheek and he shrugs apologetically as my mom climbs into the backseat.
Claire hops out of the car and insists that my mom take the front seat, but my mom doesn’t budge. I place her suitcase on the backseat next to her and she doesn’t look at me. She’s pissed. I didn’t tell her about the letter from Claire’s father until last night. I didn’t want to give her anything more to worry about, after everything we went through with Abigail. But she did not appreciate being kept out of the loop.
The silence inside the car is making me uncomfortable. I reach for the stereo and Claire reaches for my hand to stop me. She shakes her head imperceptibly and I sigh as I pull my hand back.
“I’m happy that you’re coming,” Claire says.
I crane my neck a little to get a better view of my mom’s face in the rearview mirror. She looks more worried than angry.
“I just can’t believe you two have been keeping so many secrets from me.”
After a brief, but still agonizing nonetheless, silence, I ask the question that needs to be asked. “Did you book yourself a room at the hotel?”
Claire smacks my arm. “God, Chris.”
“What?”
I don’t want to share a hotel room with my mom. I had plans for Claire tonight.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll get my own room.”
Claire throws me a look that could make my nuts shrivel up. “Jackie, I’m sorry we waited so long to tell you. I just didn’t want to bring it up in case I changed my mind. I’m still not sure I’m making the right choice, but I’m happy you’ll be with me.”
My mom spares a tight smile. “Is there anything else you two are keeping from me? Do you have a sixth toe or an evil twin I should know about, Chris?”
“Well, Mom, I didn’t want to tell you this, but… I’m pregnant.”
Once again, Claire smacks my arm.
“Shit! Take it easy on the arm. I need that to perform.”
“Are you pregnant, Claire?”
“No!” Claire shrieks. “You see what you started?”
Claire ignores me all the way to the airport. After we park the car and check our baggage, we get in line for the security check and I can’t help but smile when she takes off her shoes and puts them in a plastic tray to be scanned.
“Why are you smiling?” she asks as we push our trays down the steel table toward the conveyor belt.
“No reason.”
“You’re such a jerk.”
I laugh as she slides her tray onto the conveyor and gets in line to be scanned. “You’re so fucking adorable when you’re pissed.”
My mom slides her tray after mine and gets in line behind me. “Stop antagonizing her,” she warns me. “She doesn’t need you to be cute; she needs you to be supportive.”
Once we get on the plane, I try to switch seats with my mom so she can sit next to Claire, but she insists on sitting alone so she can read. After takeoff, Claire orders a bottle of water and I consider asking for a Capri-Sun, just to see if I can get a smile out of her, but
I have a feeling it would just annoy her right now, so I settle for water.
“I’m sorry for the comment about being pregnant. I think I’m just nervous about this trip and I’m deflecting.”
She glances at me then stares at the water bottle on her tray table. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it, and it was kind of funny, but I’m still upset. And I know it’s stupid to be upset about not being pregnant, but I think I’m just stressed about the trip and I’m probably PMS-ing. I’m sorry if I’m being a bitch. I just feel so… angry today. I’m afraid of what I’m going to say when I see my father.”
“You don’t have to be afraid. Anything you say to him will only be a reflection of how you feel. You deserve to speak those words. He wasn’t there for you.”
Suddenly, I feel angry, too. I’m angry for Claire and for myself. I never talk about my dad because, as far as I’m concerned, he’s dead. I don’t want to know what kind of man abandons his own child. I think of the lengths I would have gone to for Abigail, if I knew it were in her best interest, and it makes me want to kill any one who would willingly make their child feel unwanted. And Claire and I have always felt that way.
Everyone thinks about how lucky Claire was to find us when she did. No one ever thinks about how lucky we were to find her. Claire filled a gaping hole in our hearts. I’m not surprised my mom wanted to be with us today.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jackie
No matter how hard you try, you can’t shelter your children from suffering. And the suffering is what allows them to experience true bliss, so maybe I shouldn’t be so upset that Claire and Chris were going to visit Claire’s father without me. But I feel as if they’re slipping from my grasp, and so quickly. I don’t know what to do other than be there for them.
Chris’s plan to have a surprise wedding for Claire is beautiful. When Claire came to me and told me she wanted to propose to Chris, I couldn’t believe how alike they are and yet they’re still able to surprise each other. As happy as I am to see them preparing to spend the rest of their lives together, I really wanted to have the experience of helping them plan their wedding. I should be happy for them, but it’s hard to be happy when you realize your children no longer depend on you.
After we take our luggage to our hotel rooms, we meet in the hotel lobby and the color is drained from Claire’s cheeks. She clutches Chris’s hand as she stares at the hotel entrance with a faraway look in her eyes and it breaks my heart.
“I’m going to pick up the car,” Chris says. “You two can stay here. It’s cold outside.”
He kisses her cheek before he sets off across the lobby toward the hotel entrance. Claire squeezes her hand into a fist then wiggles her fingers, like she’s grasping for a phantom limb.
I grab her hand and look her in the eye. “Honey, you let me do the worrying. You’re going to go in there and tell him everything that’s on your mind and demand the answers you deserve. And don’t you worry about how it will all turn out. Because no matter what happens, you are loved. You are cherished.”
She throws her arms around my waist and I hold her tightly as I think of the day that her caseworker, Carol, called me to ask if I could take in a fifteen-year-old girl. Carol gave me a complete rundown on Claire’s past.
Her mother had died of a heroin overdose when she was seven. She was kicked out of her first four foster homes for locking herself in the bathroom for hours at a time. They didn’t know why she was doing this, but it doesn’t take a degree in psychology to know she was afraid. After that, she got thrown out of a few more homes for physical altercations with the males in each of those foster homes. She ran away from the foster home she was in before she came to us. She lived behind a grocery store for eight days before she was discovered and taken to the police station, which was when they called me.
Every fiber of my being told me to say no to Carol, but a tiny shred of guilt wouldn’t allow me to turn her away. I feared what this teenage runaway would do to Chris. Would she introduce him to drugs or sex? Would she assault me or my son? I had the normal prejudiced thoughts that most people recognize as survival instincts. But looking back now, I realize I was prejudging her. Claire didn’t bring the turmoil I thought she would bring. And I wasn’t the one who got through to her; it was Chris. Through his music, he opened her heart and calmed her spirit.
I honestly believe that Chris and Claire may have known each other in a former life. I couldn’t imagine two people more perfectly suited for one another. So I will hug her and comfort her and I will assist him in keeping his surprise wedding a secret. I will do anything for these two to find the happiness they are destined for.
I give her one last squeeze before I let her go and this puts a smile on her face. “Chris and I will be right there waiting to knock some sense into this man if he so much as looks at you wrong.” I lock my arm in hers and we head outside to meet Chris. “Don’t forget that I was a cheerleader in high school. I won’t hesitate to give him a swift cartwheel-kick in the face.”
Chris asks me to drive the rental car so he can sit in the back with Claire, and I’m happy to do it, but I’m not happy with Chris sitting in the backseat and barking directions at me. And the way these people drive in California makes me want to never get behind the wheel again.
“Get off on Washington and make a right,” Chris says.
“My hands are going numb,” Claire whispers.
“Take deep breaths, babe,” Chris replies.
The sound of her panicked breathing makes me nervous. I take the turn onto Washington Street too fast and the tires skid a little.
“I don’t feel good,” Claire says. “Please pull over.”
Before I can even pull into the Bank of America parking lot, the sounds of her retches make me cringe. I pull into a parking space and she throws the door open to vomit onto the asphalt. I jump out of the car and hold her hair back as she finishes spitting out the last remnants of the cookie she ate on the plane.
“Chris, go into that nail salon and get something to clean up the backseat and some water for her to drink.”
I help her sit back down in the driver’s seat where it’s clean and she leans forward as she wipes the tears from her face. “I’m sorry. I’m just so nervous about meeting him. I felt like my heart was about to pop out of my chest.”
“Are you feeling better now?”
“A little.”
“It’s not too late to change your mind, Claire.”
I don’t tell her that I think seeing her father is a mistake. I don’t tell her this because I could be wrong. But my experience with Michael leaving Chris and me has taught me that you can’t make someone love you.
“I’m not here for myself,” she says as she looks up at me.
Something about her face looks different and I don’t think it’s the flush in her skin from vomiting.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? We can go back to the hotel so you can rest and we’ll all come back here after the wedding.”
She shakes her head. “No, I don’t want to go back. I want to get this over with.”
I take a deep breath as I prepare to reveal a secret I’ve been keeping from Claire for many years. “Claire, do you remember the day you came to me and asked if your caseworker had told me anything about your mother or father?”
She looks confused for a moment, then, “Yeah. That was a couple of days after you found out about me and Chris.”
“Yes, after the big fight. You asked me that question and I told you I didn’t know anything more than you knew, but that wasn’t the truth.”
She frowns as she anticipates what I’m about to tell her. “What do you mean?”
“When you came to us in April, your caseworker, Carol, told me that you didn’t know your father and your mother had died of a drug overdose when you were seven. Months later, when I found out you and Chris were dating, I called Carol to dig a little further into your history.”
“Why?”
&nb
sp; “You have to understand that you had lived with us for just over six months at that point. I wanted to protect both you and Chris.”
“Protect us from what?”
“I was afraid that you may have been sexually assaulted in a previous foster home and I wanted Chris to take things slow with you. I knew you’d had problems with some of the men and boys in your other homes. I wasn’t sure about the details. I didn’t want you or Chris to get hurt.”
“And what did you find?”
“I found that you had done an excellent job of keeping yourself safe in the foster care system.” For some reason, these words make her cry. I can only imagine it’s the years of loneliness that she’s recalling. “Claire, Carol also told me something about your mother. She told me that your father and mother carried on a brief, but consensual, relationship when she was sixteen and he was twenty.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would the neighbor know all this? Why would Henry tell me she was raped?”
“Claire, honey, you remember your neighbor, the one you used to call Grandma?”
“I remember, but why would my mother tell Henry that she was raped?” As soon as she asks the question, her face falls as she realizes she already knows the answer to this question. “Henry was in love with my mother?”
“Henry helped your mother set up the trust fund for you. Your mother was sick, but she did everything she could to ensure you would be taken care of after she passed.”
“You mean, after she killed herself.”
“What’s going on?” Chris asks when he arrives with a bottle of water and sees Claire crying.
The concern in his voice both worries me and comforts me. I know Chris would take on all of Claire’s pain if he could.
“Do you still want to go? Or do you need some more time to think?” I ask Claire and Chris looks confused.
“I don’t know,” she says, wiping her face as she stands from the driver’s seat. “I think I need a minute.” Chris hands her the bottle of water and she takes a few small sips. “Can you walk with me?” she asks him and they set off through the parking lot toward Washington Street.
I watch them leave and my heart aches for them. They’re not kids anymore, but they still have so much to learn about the world. I hope this visit brings Claire the closure she so desperately needs.
Chapter Thirty
Claire
Chris and I walk in silence for a few minutes until we reach a gas station. We walk through the station parking lot, holding my breath as we pass the dumpsters, and find ourselves at a café behind the gas station. I’m not at all hungry or in the mood for coffee, so I take a seat in one of the chairs outside the café and Chris sits across the small table from me.
“You want to tell me what happened back there?”
“Your mom shared some information about my dad with me. I guess he didn’t rape my mom. At least, that’s what my old neighbor told my caseworker.”
He reaches across the table and grabs my hand and I hold on tightly. “Do you believe what your neighbor said?”
“I don’t think she would have any reason to lie. She was the one who found me… and my mom. I don’t remember her that well, but I remember I was over the moon the few times I went to her house because she had a real granddaughter who I played with a couple of times. I think her name was Misty.”
“Yeah, I remember you telling me about her. I hope you know that I won’t be upset if you decide to back out. I came here for you. If you want to go back to the hotel, that’s what we’ll do.”
I pull my coat tighter as a large system of dark clouds settles above us and the purplish dusk quickly transforms into a gray night. I can smell the rain that