Chapter Sixteen #2
Sure enough, ten minutes later, Mr. Hughson drops us in front of the vegan Froyo store and leaves to find parking.
Lucy and I head inside toward the counter.
I refuse to look at her; my arms are crossed over my chest, and I’m focusing on the different flavors and topping combinations I might like.
That being said, this is vegan Froyo. It’s probably going to taste like shit.
“I’m sorry,” Lucy mumbles next to me as the door behind us opens with a swing. “I didn’t know what to tell him. You can leave if you want to.”
“What are we having, kids?” Mr. Hughson puts one hand on each of our shoulders and peers curiously at the flavors on display. “Lucy, you love strawberry, right?”
She bites her lip, her shoulders slumping. “Um, yeah, when I was nine.”
Mr. Hughson’s face falls. “I just thought…Well, whatever you want now, it’s on me, all right? You too, Meera.” He pats me on the back and pulls out his wallet.
Lucy looks like she’s on the verge of tears, her body so sunken and small that even my inner Mean Girl can’t make me walk out of here. So I put on a weak smile and turn to the employee at the counter. “I’ll have the Tahitian vanilla with rainbow sprinkles and some marshmallows, please.”
Lucy takes a deep breath, juts her chin out, and follows my lead. Mr. Hughson gets a strawberry oat-milk milkshake for himself, and once we have our orders, we get a table by the window, and I pretend like it’s totally natural for me to be sitting here with Lucy and her father.
“So, Lucy, you look so pretty, all grown up,” Mr. Hughson says, pushing his shake aside. I can’t figure out if he got something strawberry to appease nine-year-old Lucy or if he just likes that horrible pink color.
Lucy stares at him from above her cup of matcha Froyo and licks a chocolate chip off her spoon. Her face is blank, nonchalant, but the trembling of her shoulders tells me she’s terrified.
“Yeah,” I chime in, turning to Mr. Hughson, “most people grow up a lot in eight years. Lucy just had the advantage of growing up pretty.” As soon as I say that, my face burns red.
Mr. Hughson laughs, but Lucy’s gaze flies to me, and she sucks in a breath. I return to my yogurt, shoveling the frozen dessert into my mouth. I’ll take brain freeze over saying the wrong thing any day.
“How’s everything at school?” he goes on, seemingly unaware of how confusing this all must be to Lucy. “How are your grades? Do you play any sports? Catch me up on everything.”
She nods meekly, staring at her half-empty cup. “I have straight A’s. I’m the cheer captain. I did track last year.” There’s a smidgen of green Froyo on her lip. I’m about to tell her when her tongue darts out to lick at it. I look away just as she catches my eye.
“That’s fantastic, Lucy.” Mr. Hughson is all smiles. “And is there anyone special in your life?”
We sit in silence for a few seconds. Lucy is still staring at me, her mouth moving without any words coming out. Just as I start to answer his question for her, she turns to him. “Why are you here, Dad?”
“Oh, well…” Mr. Hughson shifts in his seat, and the leather cushion makes a fart-like noise. If this were any other moment, if I were with absolutely anybody else, I would have laughed.
“Well?” Lucy says, voice elevated.
“You haven’t answered my calls, and your mother’s too angry to have even a polite phone conversation,” he finally says, slapping a hand to his face.
“And she has every right to be angry,” Lucy points out, her fists clenching. “You dumped her after twenty years together. You were all she had. All we had.”
Mr. Hughson’s voice trembles. “I’m sorry. I know I was wrong to give up custody of you, but I miss you, Lucy. I’ve been trying to make amends for so many years.”
“You mean the past couple of years,” Lucy says. “Where were you before that?”
I shrink in my seat. Shit, I shouldn’t be here. I should not be here. Fuck.
“I moved to LA for work. I kept asking your mother if I could see you, but she told me to stay away.” Mr. Hughson looks close to tears. “She didn’t want you to see me after how everything turned out between us.”
Lucy is slack-jawed for a second before she speaks.
“How what turned out, Dad? I was nine when you left, and Mom never talks about you or what happened, except that you fell in love with someone who wasn’t your doting wife and the mother of your child.
And she gets to be furious, honestly. A good man would never do what you did, and you know it. ”
Oh shit, this is going into emotional-family-secrets territory. I need to get out of here. As I’m about to get up, Lucy puts an ice-cold hand on my wrist and shakes her head. I sigh and sit down again.
Mr. Hughson breathes out sharply. “I admit, I was…emotionally unfaithful to your mother. It was a mistake I never intended to make—”
“But you did.” Lucy’s words are quiet, her gaze solemn. “Dad, I don’t want to talk to you without Mom knowing. It’s unfair to her. Why don’t you give her a call, and we’ll set a time to talk? All three of us? You can say your part, and then you can leave.”
“But I don’t want to leave so soon—” he starts to protest, then bows his head. “All right. I’ll call her again and tell her we met. Can I at least drop you off at home?”
Lucy stands up and dumps her half-eaten Froyo in the trash. There’s that inner cheerleader bitch. “I’ll walk.”
She’s almost out the door when I realize I should get up too. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Hughson,” I say, and rush out, following her. I yell her name until she stops at the next intersection. When she turns, her tear-stricken face is red. “Lucy, I’m so sorry—”
The force with which she hugs me nearly sends me stumbling back, but I regain my footing just in time.
I wrap one arm around her and pat the top of her head, not saying a word.
I have no idea how to offer words of comfort to her, not just because we haven’t been friends in a long time, but because I don’t want to say the wrong thing and hurt her more.
This doesn’t seem like the time for positivity or advice; I should just let her cry.
She resurfaces a minute later and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thank you for that. Seriously.”
I shrug, hands now in my pockets. “I hope you’ll be okay soon.”
“Me too,” she mumbles. “Can you…walk me home?”
I hesitate, but I know she needs someone right now. Even if it has to be me, of all people. “So…did you know he’s back in town?” I ask as she leads the way.
Lucy lowers her gaze to the cracks in the sidewalk. “I didn’t. He’s called a few times over the years. I never picked up. Why should I?”
I nod, falling into step beside her. “He’s been a bad father. He doesn’t get to see you thrive anymore.”
She lets out a sarcastic laugh. “I’m not thriving. Far from it.”
Oh. I blink. Is this about NYU or something else? I heard she’d gotten wait-listed. Maybe my Plan is working better than expected. Somehow the thought makes my head ache. My inner Mean Girl needs to get a hold of herself.
“Do you think your mom will—”
“Can we talk about something else?” she asks, exhaling. “Like, um, do you have any birthday plans?”
My head jerks back. I turn eighteen next week, right before spring break. I don’t want to think about why she still remembers her ex-bestie-turned-enemy’s birthday, so I answer honestly. “I haven’t thought about it. With how busy Café Kismat has been lately, I might just end up working all day.”
What she says next surprises me, especially when she chuckles as she says it. “Remember when you wanted to throw a big party the year your birthday was the same weekend as Holi, but your parents said no?”
I do remember. Holi, the Indian festival of colors, usually happens between March and April, depending on the Hindu lunar calendar.
This year, the festival already happened three weeks ago, but now that more people know my name, maybe a late Holi birthday party wouldn’t be the worst idea to solidify the success of the Plan.
I’m so close to winning, I can feel it, even though my last few attempts have backfired.
“Should I ask my parents if I can do that this year?” I muse aloud as we reach her house. “I’m older now, and they wouldn’t even have to be around to supervise.”
She smiles at me—a real Lucy Hughson smile, one that warms me down to the tips of my toes. “You should. It would make a great party. Your friends would love it.”
As she unlocks her front door and waves goodbye, I hesitate, my hand halfway up to wave back. “Lucy, wait.” I bite my lip and say the words I never thought I’d say again, unsure why I’m even saying them: “If the party happens, I’d really like it if you came too.”
Her expression shifts from joy to confusion to something almost bittersweet in the matter of a split second, and she slowly nods.
“I’ll try to make it. See you. And…thanks again.
” She shuts the door, and I continue on my way home, my head swaying with the weirdness of today and what it might mean for the Plan. What it might mean for me.