“Yeah, actually, you do. Hey, will you turn around and look at me?”
I turned and leaned against the door. “What, Trevor?”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on. I just want to go for a run.”
He laughed drily. “You have no idea how typical this is of you.”
“Do you want to start tossing insults at each other the moment we’re in a room together? Didn’t you just get here? I didn’t even know you were coming over.” He shook his head as if I were an awful person. I took a deep breath and softened my voice. “Isn’t there a game on? I’ll go for a run and get takeout and be back in a bit. You can hang out here. When I get back, we can eat and watch the game together. How does that sound?” Was it weird that I had never told him I didn’t enjoy watching football, even when he was the quarterback?
“That’s fine,” he said. He plopped down on the couch and turned the TV on.
I ran to the cove. The children’s pool, as they called it, was formed by a wall that was originally built to break the waves and create a safe swimming environment for small children. But it was roped off halfway up the beach because about two hundred seals had made it their home. I sat on the steps going down to the pool, letting the cold breeze whip through my hair. There were no people here, only seals loafing on the sand. It was exactly what I needed.
I typed Jase’s website into my phone and scanned it for details once again.
J. Colby lived in L.A., but he was currently on a book tour. There was a menu page for his tour dates and cities. I clicked the page link, and lo and behold, I discovered he was going to be in San Diego the day after tomorrow. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I said out loud. One of the seals looked up and barked at me. “Sorry!”
This was all too coincidental.
I stood up, jogged up the stairs, and took off running. By the time I was out of fuel, it was dark and I was sweating profusely in the cold air, breathing so hard I knew I had to stop. I walked to a taco shop, picked up food, and headed back to my apartment, where I was grateful to see Trevor asleep on the couch with some football game blaring in the background.
I knocked lightly on Cara’s bedroom door. “Come in,” she said.
She was sitting at her desk, typing away on her laptop, as per usual. She was nothing if not a dedicated writer. I stood in the doorway and kept my voice down so as not to wake up Trevor. “How’s it going?” I asked.
She smiled. “Good. I wrote a lot today. What about you? How are you? You seemed a bit loony this morning.”
“I’m okay. Sorry about that thing with Trevor earlier.”
“No biggie. Are you still reading that book?”
I nodded.
“That fucking author’s hot,” she said. “I’ve been internet stalking him.”
I laughed. “Yeah, he is.”
“You googled him too?” she said, smiling.
“Uh, yep. Uh-huh.”
“He’s going to be in San Diego the day after tomorrow.”
“I saw that,” I said.
“Let’s go meet him and get the book signed.” Her face turned bright red.
“I don’t know. You can go.” Time to change the subject. “Hey, I left some tacos on the counter. I think I’m going to bed. I don’t feel great.”
“Oh, okay. Should I just leave Trevor out there?”
“He’s fine,” I said, and then I went into my room, shut the door, and cracked the book open again.
From All the Roads Between
At the kitchen table the next morning, I watched as my dad poured whiskey into his coffee. “Did Susan leave?” I asked.
“Who wants to know?”
“I was just wondering.”
“Yeah, she left.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“Mind your business, Emerson.”
I was feeling bold that morning. Maybe because I was a woman now and I felt like I needed answers. “Where’d Mom go?”
He sat down next to me and took a deep breath. For a moment I thought we were going to have a heart-to-heart. I stared at a large brown stain on his white T-shirt as I waited for his answer.
“Your mother’s a fucking whore.”
I glanced down at my fidgeting hands underneath the table. He grabbed the whiskey bottle, poured a healthier dose into his coffee, and then slammed it on the table. “Did you hear me?! I said your mother’s a fucking whore!”
“I heard you!” I yelled. I stood and kicked my chair out. He gripped my arm so hard that it forced me to sit back down.
“I’m not done,” he seethed through gritted teeth.
“Dad, please.”
“She’s Satan.”
“You’re being irrational.”
“Big word for a twelve-year-old.” I couldn’t take my eyes off the disgusting wad of spittle forming in the corner of his mouth.
“I’m thirteen.”
“Since when?”
“Since today. Today is my birthday, Dad.” He let go of my arm. There was nothing he could say to me because he didn’t know how to be a human anymore. He couldn’t be kind because it hurt him more than it hurt me. I could see confusion and guilt in his eyes. Good, feel like shit, you bastard. You deserve it.
I slithered away quietly and went into my room and cried. The tears turned hot with anger, and soon I found myself packing a bag. I would ask Leila if she’d take me in. She’d said she’d always wanted a daughter. I could go live with them and cook and clean and help her take care of Jax and Brian.