Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
EVE
“ E ve!” My mom stands and waves as soon as I enter the restaurant.
I smile at the hostess waiting at the stand. “I’m meeting my mom.”
She smiles back. “I figured. Are you graduating tomorrow?”
“I am.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I say, and then head for our table.
I haven’t seen my mom since the end of winter break, back in January. She smells like her lavender laundry detergent and rose perfume. I inhale the floral scents deeply as we hug.
She touches one of my curls after we let go. “Your hair looks nice.”
“Thanks. I’ve been wearing it down more.”
My mom nods. “Less breakage.”
“Yep.” I nod too. “That’s why.”
She tilts her head, studying me a little more closely. “You look happy, Eve.”
“I am,” I tell her.
My mom smiles as we sit down.
“The flight was okay?” I ask.
“There was an hour delay, but otherwise it was fine. I had plenty of time to check in at the hotel before meeting you here.”
I nod. “Good.”
A waitress appears to take our drink orders and list off the specials.
Once she leaves, I spread my napkin in my lap. “How’s the salon?”
“Good. Busy. Everyone wants a spring makeover. My May candle arrived. Lilac.”
I got my mom a candle subscription last Christmas. Each month is a different scent, and she always tells me what it is.
“How’s Jenny?”
“She has kindergarten graduation in a few weeks, which is hard to believe. I told her your ceremony would be a little more elaborate.” My mom smiles. “If flight prices weren’t so crazy, I’d have brought her. John would have loved to be here too.” She pulls out her phone and shows me a photo of my half sister clutching her dad’s leg. “I took this of them after Jenny’s dance recital last night.”
I smile at it. “Wow. She’s getting so big.”
“She sure is.” My mom sips her water. “Do you have any photos of your apartment?”
I still, taken aback by the question. I texted her after I signed a lease for an apartment in Greenwich Village last week. But we haven’t really discussed it, maybe because there’s no longer anything to say. I made my decision.
“Just a few that were part of the listing,” I answer.
I unlock my phone and pull up the real estate site, chewing on my lower lip as I slide it across the table for her to look at.
I lucked out, I think. The location is perfect, right by the High Line. And Marissa, my new roommate, seems super sweet. We talked on the phone for an hour before I committed to the apartment. Her current roommate is leaving the city to go to law school in Boston, so she has an open room. Most of the apartment is furnished, so I won’t have to buy much once I move. Marissa let me know a nearby coffee shop she loves was hiring, so I called and got a barista job lined up. Hopefully it will only be temporary, until I can find something art-related, but it will be enough to pay the bills and leave me with time to paint in the evenings. The manager of the coffee shop even said she’d be open to letting me display some of my paintings for sale.
“It looks really nice, Eve,” my mom tells me.
“Thanks, Mom.”
She passes my phone back to me. “John has a cousin who lives in Stamford he’s talked about visiting before. Maybe we can make a trip this fall.”
“I would love that.”
I knew my mom wouldn’t keep me from moving to New York. That it was a decision I would get to make on my own.
But I underestimated how it would feel to have her support. It’s like a weight is lifting off my shoulders. Like I could fail, and I wouldn’t have to hide it from her for fear of an I told you so .
“What do you recommend here?” My mom opens her menu. “Everything sounds so good.”
“I got the tortellini last time. The pizzas are pretty popular too.”
“Hmmm.” She keeps scanning the menu. “Maybe I’ll get a pizza.”
The waitress returns a few minutes later and we place our orders.
“So, remind me what the schedule is for tomorrow,” my mom says. “I should be at the stadium at nine?”
“The ceremony doesn’t start until ten thirty, but we can’t reserve seats. I’d try to get there at nine just in case, yeah, but if you’re running late, it should be fine.”
“Nine it is. And we’re getting lunch with Hunter and his parents afterward?”
“As long as that’s okay?”
Hunter’s mom suggested it. I’ve never met his parents, but based on the way Hunter talks about them, I’m sure they’re lovely.
“Of course,” my mom says. “I’d like to meet them. And Hunter, of course.” She plucks a piece of bread out of the basket. “Is there anything I should know about the ceremony?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve never gone to a college graduation before, so…”
“I haven’t either, Mom. I’m pretty sure you just have to sit and try to stay awake during all the different speakers.”
“Okay. I’ll stop for coffee on the way.”
I laugh. “Sounds good.”
My phone lights up with a text from Harlow asking if I have extra boxes in my room. I reply yes , and then notice the time.
It’s exactly eight p.m.
I stand, accidentally knocking my napkin off the table. I pick it up before grabbing my phone off the table. “I’ll be right back, Mom. I just need to make a quick phone call.”
I catch a glimpse of her puzzled expression before I walk outside.
I’ve been putting this off, telling myself it didn’t matter. But I want to enjoy tomorrow, not sit and listen to inspirational speeches and regret not telling my dad why him showing up would’ve mattered.
If he had a good reason for not coming, it would be one thing. If his kid was sick or there was an emergency at work or some other urgent situation had come up, I would have understood.
But he chose not to come.
And you can’t make someone care, the same way you can’t stop caring yourself.
My father answers on the third ring. “Eve. This is a surprise.”
“Because it’s not a Tuesday?”
He hesitates before replying. “Because you stopped answering my calls.”
“Yeah, I did. Any idea why?”
A longer pause, as the hostility in my voice registers. It’s not a tone I’ve used with my dad before. I’m always agreeable and accommodating, trying to be the smallest burden possible.
“Life doesn’t work out the way we always want it to, Eve. I have responsibilities. A job and?—”
I scoff. “Mom has a job, and she showed up. She’s always shown up.”
“Your mother has a much more flexible work schedule than I do.”
My father hasn’t grown up. He may have gotten older. He may have had more kids. But, at his core, he’s still the same self-centered seventeen-year-old who left my mom on her own.
And I’m finished accepting his excuses.
“They set the graduation date two years ago. And plenty of parents who aren’t self-employed are here.”
My dad sighs. “Eve, I know?—”
“No, you don’t know. You don’t know anything about me, because when we talk it’s about sports and then I ask about your other kids. And you know what? That’s fine. That’s all you could offer.” I suck in a deep breath, forcing my burning eyes to remain wide open and straight ahead. “I called to tell you I’m mad. I was mad when you told me you weren’t coming tomorrow, and I was too…whatever to tell you. I was mad when you never showed up for birthday parties or my eighth-grade graduation or any of my art shows, and I always pretended I didn’t care. I’ve always been mad, and you were never there for me to be mad at. So I’m calling to tell you to stop calling. I’m done with the charade of pretending I have a dad. You never wanted me. Congratulations, Dean. You have one less responsibility, and only two kids.”
For the first time ever, I hang up on my father.
And then I stand on the sidewalk, breathing heavily, simultaneously proud and sad. I needed to say all of that. But now that I have, I can’t take any of it back. And if my dad listens, and never calls me again, that could have been the last time I heard my father’s voice. That doesn’t feel like a success.
I pull in a deep inhale, let it out, and then head back inside.
“Everything okay?” my mom asks as I sit down.
“Yeah,” I reply. “I just… I needed to take care of something.”
Maybe one day, I’ll tell her what I just told my dad. But I don’t want to bring him up now. This weekend isn’t just a celebration of me. It’s a testament to all the opportunities my mom gave me, all the obstacles she overcame. Not only did my father choose not to come, he chose not to contribute. Pretending he doesn’t exist, same as he did to us, feels appropriate.
My pasta and my mom’s pizza arrive a few minutes later. I can’t recall the last time my mom and I ate dinner alone, just the two of us. It had to be well before I left for college. Before she met John or had Jenny.
As we eat, she tells me funny stories about clients at the salon. I try to talk her into listening to C is for Crime . The final episode is releasing on Friday, so she won’t have to wait for the big reveal the way Hunter and I have all week.
After my mom pays the bill, she pulls a pink envelope out of her purse and sets it on the table. “I wasn’t sure when to give this to you. It’s from your dad.”
I still. “What?”
“He came to the salon last week.” My mom purses her lips. “It wasn’t the most…pleasant of conversations, but it was a necessary one. Long overdue, probably. I know—I know I’ve always discouraged you from having a relationship with your dad. Most of it was to protect you from disappointment. But part of it was to punish him, and that…” She sighs. “I’m sorry about that.”
I stare at the envelope like it’s a live bomb that might explode.
“I think he wanted to be here, Eve. But…I don’t think he knows how to be. And that’s up to you, whether or not you want to teach him. How many chances you’re willing to offer. Only you can decide that, and I’ll support whatever you decide. I promise.”
Curiosity flares as I reach for the envelope hesitantly.
My dad has never sent me a card before. I don’t even know what his handwriting looks like.
The first page I pull out of the envelope is a folded drawing. Two tiny people and one person four times their height. The two shorter stick figures are labeled Noah and Lily . The tall one is Eve .
I set down the drawing and pull the card out.
When I open it, a check slides into my lap. A check for a lot of money, with my dad’s name in the top left corner. The note on the inside of the card covers both sides, written in a slanted scrawl.
Eve,
On Saturday, you’ll be a college graduate. You’re 22, about to head out into the world, and I won’t be there to see it.
I’m sorry. I know those are just words, and I know they change nothing.
I’m sorry I missed so much. I’m sorry that I was so selfish. I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to say I’m sorry.
When we first started our calls, I thought it was better to pretend that they’d always taken place. I thought it was better to talk about my other children, so it seemed like I had some idea how to be a father.
You’ve stopped answering, and I don’t blame you. I was surprised you ever did. You’ve given me many more chances than I ever deserved.
Lily wanted me to send you this drawing. She wants to be an artist like her big sister.
Happy Graduation.
Love,
Dad
I stare at the card. My eyes burn, but no tears form. Almost like I want to cry, but I’m not sure if I should.
I just decided what my dad’s role would be in my life—nonexistent—and then he had to go and do this.
When I glance up, my mom’s staring at me sympathetically. The conflict must be clear on my face.
“He was really hot in high school, honey.”
A surprised laugh bursts out. My mom has never talked much about her relationship with my dad. All I know is it was brief and ended badly.
“And I wouldn’t change a thing, Evelyn.” She reaches out and squeezes the hand that’s not holding my dad’s card. “He might have been a terrible father, but he’s not a terrible person. I got that much right, at least.”
I squeeze back. “You got a lot right, Mom.”