by C. C. Hunter
“You sound upset,” he says.
“I’m okay.”
“You want me to come over?”
“It’s late. Mom wouldn’t like it.”
“I can wait an hour, and you can sneak out the window.” There’s a tease in his voice.
I smile, remembering. “I don’t think Mom’s going to be sleeping tonight. If she caught me, she’d freak.”
“I kind of think she already has tonight.” He understands more about my night than I’m letting on.
“Yeah,” I say.
Silence fills the line until he says, “I found the nanny.”
“What?”
“I found her on Facebook. Then I found her number in the yellow pages.”
My heart races. “Did you talk to her?”
“I called. Spoke to her niece. She said her aunt’s in Mexico and won’t be back for three weeks. She gave me her address. She lives about an hour away from here.”
“Did you tell her what you wanted?”
“No, I said I wanted to talk to her about someone we both knew. I gave her my number and said she could call me. But the niece acted like she might wait until she’s back.”
Felix climbs up on my chest. Buttercup is licking my arm. They can sense I’m upset.
“We need to make a plan.”
A knot forms in my throat. “I hate thinking about this It’s giving me emotional whiplash. I feel sorry for the Fullers. I feel sorry for Emily. Then I remember I might be Emily. Then I feel sorry for my parents. Part of me wants to be Emily so it’ll mean I wasn’t thrown away. Part of me is scared to be Emily because I’m afraid wanting it means that I don’t want the parents I have.” My voice rises. “And yeah, right now with the whole divorce and depression shit, I almost don’t want them, but … It’s like a hurricane of different emotions hitting me all at once. And then there’s you.”
I take a breath. Close my eyes.
“Me?” he asks.
“Yes.” It’s like the night with Dad—I can’t shut up. “You … know everything about me, and you never tell me anything. I know your past hurts you, and I want to help you the way you’re helping me. Why don’t you trust me?”
There’s silence. One beat. Two. Three.
“I do trust you.” Frustration tightens his voice. “You know more about me than anyone, other than the Fullers or previous foster parents who read my report.”
“Then why don’t you tell me the rest of it?”
Three beats of silence passes.
“You don’t understand,” he says.
“What don’t I understand?”
“Damn it, Chloe! You’re innocent. All the things that have happened to you aren’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re perfect.”
His words confirm what I’ve known all along: He doesn’t feel worthy. “What do you think you’re guilty of? Whatever it is, you’re wrong. You were only eleven when your father died!” She immediately recalls Paul’s words. They say he killed his dad. Shot him right in the heart. She doesn’t believe it. She doesn’t. Yet, she recalls his story about the car accident and how something didn’t feel right.
“I was old enough to know better.” Pain laces his words. Then, he says, “Shit. I got to go. Someone’s coming.”
I’d’ve believed it was a lie if I didn’t hear Mrs. Fuller’s voice saying, “I saw your light on. You okay?” The sound is muffled, as if he set the phone on his bed, but it’s still audible.
“Just couldn’t sleep,” Cash says.
“Me neither. I was going to make some Sleepytime tea. You want some?”
“Sure,” Cash answers. The phone clicks silent.
I’m left holding my phone to my ear. Holding questions in my heart. But knowing, knowing with everything inside me, that Cash isn’t a bad person.
24
I head to school early on Thursday morning. I’m worried about Mom. She didn’t get up. When I poked my head in before I left, she barely said goodbye. I wish she’d start working.
Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, I hope to see Cash before school. Remembering our conversation about his secrets, I’m nervous he’s upset with me.
On the ride, Lindsey’s talking nonstop. She’s comparing David to Jonathon. David comes out looking better, but the fact that she’s talking about Jonathon tells me she’s not over him.
“So what do you think?” she asks.
I must’ve tuned her out, because I’m clueless to what she’s asking.
“Sorry, I’m half asleep,” I say. And I am. I didn’t have another nightmare last night, but I woke up thinking about it. Thinking about the Fullers, the nanny, and the face. “What do I think about what?”
“Double-dating on Saturday night?”
“Oh,” I say, but think no. Between my not wanting to leave Mom too much and Cash’s schedule, I get so little time with Cash, and I’d like it to just be us.
“Please say yes.”
Now I feel guilty. “I’ll see what Cash says.”
We get to school. Lindsey heads out to find David. I hang in front of the school, hoping I’ll see Cash pull in.
When his gray Jeep arrives, I watch where he’s parking and walk that way.
He’s setting up his camera when I get there. He told me about his car getting keyed and how he suspects Paul and hopes he’ll catch him doing it again on film. He also told me he promised both Mr. and Mrs. Fuller he wouldn’t get into another fight. I’m worried about that. Cash is really pissed. He loves his Jeep.
He motions me inside.
I crawl into the front seat. “Hey.”
He leans in and kisses me. The kiss feels desperate. When we pull apart, his gaze meets mine and I can read his mind, he’s begging me not to ask about his past. And I won’t. Because he has to want to confide in me. Being shut out still stings.
“Darlene accepted my friend request.”
I’d been so worried about his secrets that I forgot about her. “Did you look at her page?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“There’s no mention of her being engaged, or any picture of expensive jewelry. Do you want me to pull it up on my phone?”
I hesitate. “Does she have pictures of my dad?”
“Yeah. And you’re right. She dresses provocatively. You want to see?”
“Always nice to know my dad might be marrying a slut.” I exhale. “No, I don’t want to see it.”
“You don’t know it was an engagement ring.” He reminds me.
“I know.” My phone dings with a text. Of course, it’s Dad.
Have a good day.
I show Cash. He says, “I’m sorry.”
I want to text Dad back and say something ugly, but I don’t. Something ugly would eventually require an explanation. And because I know he’d be pissed at Mom for the credit card business, I can’t. However, I don’t answer Dad’s text. I can’t even bring myself to send an emoji.
I remember Lindsey’s request about double-dating. I ask Cash about it. His expression says he doesn’t want to. I’m about to let him off the hook, when he suddenly says, “It could be fun.”
I’m in first period when I realize why Cash may have said yes. We won’t be alone and he won’t feel pressure to tell me his secrets.
Is he going to back out of going to the park this afternoon? Why can’t he talk to me? He says he trusts me, but I’m not convinced.
The bell rings and I’m going to my locker when I hear my name. I glance back and see it’s Paul. I consider walking away, but my gut says he’ll just follow.
He comes and stands in front of me. Too close. I step back. “What?”
“I have a party to go to tomorrow night. I thought you might like to come?”
I’m so shocked, it takes a minute to understand he’s asking me out. “Uh…” I try to come up with a response, but when I can’t think of one, I just spit out, “No.”
“Why not?” he asks.
Because you
’re a bully. Because I don’t like you. Because I’m dating Cash.
“You really dating that foster boy?” he asks when I don’t answer.
I really don’t like him. “Yeah.”
“He went to juvie. He’s no good.”
I tilt up my chin, feel my lips thin in anger. “Obviously, I don’t agree.”
He leans in. “So you like bad boys.” He puts his face in mine. “I can be bad.”
I stare right into his eyes. “You’re a dick.” I step back.
“You’ll be sorry,” he says. “Take my word for it.”
I watch him walk away, fist clenched, shoulders tight, anger making my head buzz. My first thought is to find Cash and tell him. Tell him I’m glad he punched the guy in the nose. My second is that I can’t. Can’t tell Cash. He’d confront him. There’d be another fight.
* * *
Mom’s still in her pj’s, stretched out on the sofa with Felix, when I get home from school. So she didn’t walk. But at least she’s awake. I recall abandoning her last night after she told me about Dad’s jewelry purchase.
“Hey.” It’s sad how easy it is to push things under the rug.
“How was your day?” She sits up.
“Okay,” I lie, my thoughts on Paul.
“Just okay?” Mom asks. “Something happen?”
“No,” I lie again, and hand her a pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.
“What’s this?” she asks.
“I stopped by the store, and I know you like them.” Buttercup barks at the back door. I let him in.
“Thank you.” Mom opens the candy and sinks her teeth into it. “So good,” she says around the mouthful of chocolate. I notice her eyes look bloodshot, as if she’s been crying. My heartstrings are tugged. I need her to get better. I need to stop feeling as if I’m walking on eggshells every second I’m around her.
I need it because I want to ask her about the adoption. I want her to go with me to get the information. I want it, but looking at her now, I know she can’t handle it.
“Did you eat lunch?” I crouch down to love on Buttercup.
“Yeah…” She doesn’t sound sure.
I’ll bet she didn’t, and I decide to fix something fattening for dinner. Then I remember we’re low on food. “Did you go to the grocery store?” I ask afraid it’s a no.
“I kind of took the day off,” she says.
She’s been taking lots of days off.
“We can do it this weekend,” Mom says. “You can make yourself a sandwich. This is my dinner.” She holds up the candy.
I bite my tongue and remember when Mom cooked pot roast and parmesan chicken. When the house smelled like food and love. I want that Mom back.
“Cash and I are taking Buttercup to the park.” I stand up. Buttercup hears the word park and starts dancing.
“Okay.” Her tone lands on a negative note. I ignore it. No breaking eggs with Mom. Not when she’s so broken. Besides, I seem to reserve that privilege for Dad, or at least sometimes. He texted me again right after school, and I ignored that text, too.
I go brush my teeth and grab a blanket for the park. When I get back, Mom’s asleep.
I hear a car door shut and, thinking it’s Cash, I grab the caramel candies I bought him and stick them in my pocket.
I put the leash on Buttercup. Then with the blanket, the ball, and dog in tow, I head outside to save Cash from seeing my depressed mom.
When I make the front porch, I see it wasn’t Cash’s car door I heard. It’s Jonathon’s.
He gives me a smirk as he’s walking up to Lindsey’s porch. I give him one right back.
I hear Lindsey’s front door open, and she says something I don’t understand. Then Jonathon walks in.
“Well, shit.” I worry Lindsey’s going to screw up a good thing with David. But I don’t have time to fret, because Cash pulls up.
In fifteen minutes, we’re at the park, sitting on a blanket. Buttercup, resting beside us, is already tired from Cash throwing him the ball.
We lie back on the blanket. His shoulder is against mine and he’s holding my hand. I look over and he’s staring up at the sky.
“I see an elephant.” He points up.
I smile. “Where?”
“There. See the trunk. It only has three legs.” He laughs. “But there’re a lot of three-legged elephants out there, right?”
I stare up. “I see it.”
“I guess you get this.” He pulls out a pack of Skittles. He leans up on one elbow. “Let me find you a red one.”
“I got you something, too.” I pull the caramels from my pocket.
His grin widens. “You brought me candy.” He says it like it’s some big deal, like he didn’t just pull out a pack of candy he’d brought for me.
“Yes.” I open the package and remove one, and then I take the plastic off. “Open up.” I put the candy in his mouth.
He moans with pleasure. “Sorry. But this is better than Skittles.”
“Nope.” I pull the bag from his hand and find a red candy.
We’re lying there, eating candy, staring at the white puffy clouds. I remember Paul, and I almost feel guilty not telling Cash about it, but I know it might end badly.
I feel him staring at me. I lean my head to the side. “What?”
He eases over and his lips touch mine. The sweet and tart taste of Skittles and caramel blend with the kiss.
When we stop, our eyes open, meet, and hold. The park sounds float around us, people talking, a dog barking, Buttercup snoring, and a few birds singing, but somehow it feels like it’s just us.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Chloe. It’s that … this—” He waves a hand between us. “—this is so good. I like how it feels. I like that it has nothing to do with my past. What happened then is bad, and this is good. It’s so damn good and I don’t want that to poison this. Does that make sense?”
I stare into his green eyes, and I swear I see into his soul. I see the empty spot there. The one like I have. “Kind of,” I say. “But I don’t think anything could poison this.”
He kisses me again.
My phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket and frown. “It’s my dad.”
“Answer it if you want,” he says.
“No. I’m not ready to talk to him.” We lie back and look up at the sky. “Did you look to see if Darlene posted anything about a ring?”
“Yeah. She hasn’t.”
We get quiet again, and I enjoy being this close to him. My hand is in his. His shoulder, his arm, his leg are pressed against me. I feel tingly all over and I wish I had more of him against me.
He stirs. “Yesterday afternoon, before I went to my college class, I drove to the nanny’s house.”
I swallow. “Why? You said she wasn’t home.”
“She’s not. But just so I’ll know where she lives. I thought about calling the niece again. But I don’t want to sound too eager. It might make her suspicious.”
“I think she’s going to be suspicious anyway,” I say.
“You don’t know that.” But he kind of frowns.
I roll over on my side and face him. “Are you going to be disappointed if I’m not Emily?”
“No. I’ll be surprised, because I think you are, but not disappointed. Why would you think that?”
I inhale. “I don’t know. It just feels like you want me to be her.”
“Honestly, it would be better if you weren’t. You know with my dating you, but … I think you’re Emily.” He touches my face. “How do you want it to turn out?” he asks. “And forget being afraid of hurting your parents.”
I dig deep for my answer. “In one way, I want to be her—to know I wasn’t given away—but in another way, I don’t want to be her. I always used to think if I could figure out who my real parents were that I might … be able to figure out who I am. Now, it kind of feels like … that by discovering who I would’ve been in another life, I’ll lose part of the person I am. I know that
doesn’t make sense, but—”
“It makes sense,” he says. “But I don’t think it’s going to change who you are.”
* * *
“Mom, I’m home,” I call out when I walk into the house. I stand there, hoping I’ll smell food cooking. I mean, yeah, I kind of knew it was a long shot, but hey, I could hope my mom suddenly woke up, went grocery shopping, and decided to be a mom.
Mom doesn’t answer. “Mom?”
I move into the living room; the sofa’s empty.
I walk toward her bedroom. The door’s ajar. Mom’s in bed, and the light’s off.
“Mom?” I lean against the doorframe.
I get nothing. “I’m going to order Chinese for dinner.”
Nothing. I could’ve spent more time with Cash.
My phone dings with a text.
I look at it. It’s from Lindsey.
Please come over!
I noticed Jonathon’s truck was gone when I came in. She’s probably wanting to talk about his visit. But I swear, if she’s thinking of going back to that creep, I’m giving her hell.
“Mom, I’m going to Lindsey’s. I’ll order Chinese when I get back.”
Mom doesn’t even move.
“Sounds good, Chloe. I’ll see you when you get back,” I answer as if I were her. Then I mutter, “Thank you for being the adult around here.”
Angry, I head to Lindsey’s.
Before I get off my porch, my phone rings. It’s Dad again. Nope. Not dealing with that now. I’d rather deal with Lindsey and her Jonathon issues.
* * *
It was almost six when Cash pulled through the gate into the Fullers’ subdivision. On Thursdays, it was usually just him and Mrs. Fuller. He’d texted her about an hour ago and let her know he might be running late. She’d texted him back, saying she was leaving the grocery store, and asked what he wanted for dinner. He’d told her to surprise him.
When he got to the house, there was a black sedan parked in the driveway. The garage door was open. Mrs. Fuller’s car was inside, but the trunk was open and there were bags of groceries there. He thought she’d gotten home earlier. He grabbed some bags and headed inside. Stepping into the kitchen, he heard her talking in a high-pitched tone.