Chapter 28 Dane #3
Not knowing what to say to that, I sip some more of my coffee and wonder some more about what the guy at the next table over is up to. Maybe he’s scrawling code for a corporate takedown straight out of Mr. Robot. That would be awesome.
“I didn’t know Connor liked men,” Lori says.
“Took twenty years of chasing guys who would never want me to finally get one right.”
“Does he love you?”
I gulp, staring down at my cup. “Yeah.”
“Well, that’s the most important thing in the end.”
When I look up, she’s still smiling. “Nah. ‘Cause he was the most important thing in my life even before he loved me. ‘Cause he never gave up on me. Even when I gave him every reason to. That’s what makes him special. That’s why he’s worth getting kicked out over.”
“Your father kicked you out?”
“Does that surprise you?”
Her lips fold. Instead of answering, she says, “You could come here. You could stay with me.”
I blink at her through the awkwardness. “I told you. I’m getting a place with Connor in SD. I’ve got school there. Soccer.”
“They have schools here. They have soccer here.”
She’s serious. “I have a month left of my semester. Connor is getting his master’s degree down there. I can’t just stay here. Only reason I’m up here now is because Connor almost died and needed to see his folks. I didn’t intend to see you at all. I was hoping I wouldn’t.”
“I understand,” she says solemnly. The cup in front of her is still full, and I hope she won’t make us sit here until she finishes.
Mr. Whitlock mentioned chili dogs for dinner, and I’ve been craving them ever since.
“But you’re always welcome. Whenever—if ever—you need someplace to go, you can come here.
You can come to me. Or, you can call me, and I’ll come to you. If you ever need me.”
Something about that last bit makes me chuckle.
“If I ever need you? Are you for real? I needed you when I was eleven, and you left me. I’ve needed you for years.
I cried for you every night for years. I hated myself for years because I was such a terrible kid that not even my own mom could love me. ”
“I did love you. I did,” she insists, voice going quieter the wider her eyes get, and the farther she leans in.
“I have loved you ever since I found out I was pregnant with you. And you were so far from terrible, Dane. You were perfect from the moment you were born. I should know. I was there. Not even your father can say that. I had you, I held you, I named you, and I did all of that alone. You were mine. All mine. No one else’s. ”
I have to hold my breath and mash my lips together to keep the tears inside my head, and I rub my sweaty palms on my shaking knees just to occupy myself with an action besides running away.
“I don’t know how I can ever explain what was going on between me and your father when you were little,” she says.
“I don’t wanna know. I don’t care. Just how you didn’t care what sort of shit Artie put me through, or what he was gonna put me through.”
“I did care. I do. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, it’s too late. It doesn’t matter now. I’m grown now. I don’t need you anymore.”
The silence stretches longer than the others. Long enough for the tremors in my legs to settle and my heart to steady. Long enough for Lori’s voice to startle me when she uses it again.
“You wouldn’t have to hide with me,” she says, eyes full of tears.
“You can tell me anything. I’d never judge you.
I’ve done enough in my life to ever judge you for anything.
I just want to get to know you and be in your life as much as you’ll let me.
I want to see you again. Is Connor coming up for Thanksgiving? ”
“Probably.”
“Will you come with him?”
“I dunno.”
“What about winter break?”
“I dunno.” I shimmy my phone out of my pocket to check the time and find a text from Connor asking if everything’s okay. “I should get back.”
“Dane.” Lori reaches across the small round table and cups my elbow. “I hurt you, I know that. I want to make it up to you. We can start from scratch or hash things out. You can yell at me if you want—”
Whipping a sharp look across the table, I say, “You didn’t even recognize me. I was standing right there. Like, eight feet away from you, and you didn’t even recognize me. How am I supposed to hash that out with you? I’m your son. Your son, and you didn’t even know what I fucking look like.”
“Dane—”
Over this, I flee the table with just enough sense in my head to grab Connor’s sweatshirt off the back of my chair before I storm out into the autumn cold. Phone still in my hand, I tap the call icon beside Connor’s name.
It’s still ringing when Lori comes out of the shop, saying my name again. I turn my back to her, and as soon as I hear Connor’s voice through my phone, I ask if he’ll pick me up.
“Where are you?” he asks.
“I’m, uh—” I switch around to get another look at the name of this coffee shop, but Lori is right there, saying my name again.
“Dane, I can drive you back. He doesn’t need to pick you up.”
At the same time, Connor says my name. “Dane? Dane, where are you?”
My eyes go bleary. The LED sign above the coffee shop door turns fuzzy.
“Dane,” Lori repeats, grabbing my arm.
Giving up on the sign, I switch around fast enough to shake Lori loose and start walking. Into my phone, I tell Connor I’m looking for a street sign.
“Dane!” Lori’s still behind me, following me, filling my head with my own fucking name in her voice. “Dane, just wait!”
“What’s going on?” Connor asks in my ear. “Are you okay?”
“Dane, stop,” Lori says.
“Dane,” she says.
“Dane.”
“Dane.”
“Dane.”
I smack the side of my head like that’ll shut off the noise, but it keeps on coming.
Dane.
Dane.
Dane.
Dane.
Dane.
“Stop saying my name!” I spin around, my hands clenched and my phone dropping at my feet. “Stop fucking saying my name! Why are you doing this now?! It’s not fair!”
Eyes wet. Face hot. I bend down but can’t make out my phone from the black of the parking lot asphalt. I put my hands to the rough ground and feel for it.
“You don’t get to choose me now, after all this time. You don’t get to have me. I’m not yours. You don’t even know who the fuck I am.” My hands find something solid and sleek. The screen lights up with my touch.
“Dane—”
“NO!” I squeeze my phone in my fist and jolt up to glare at the woman who abandoned me all those years ago. But my glare never makes it. Not when my head crashes into something hard as bone. Pain zigzags across my skull, but it’s someone else’s wail I hear over the ringing in my ears.
Clutching my head where it hurts the most, I stagger to my feet, pocket my phone, and watch through hazy vision as my mother groans into her hands.
Some dude across the parking lot shouts about calling 9-1-1, and Lori pops her head up long enough to shout back, “Stay out of it! He’s my son!”
Time stops when I see the blood on her lip. My heart freezes, and my fingers itch the air between us.
“Mom.” Every step I take is like trudging through mud. “Mom, are you okay?” I lick my chapped lips and touch her face.
“I’m okay,” she says, her hands on my arms.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean it, Mom. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Fear driving me more than pain, I fold her into my arms. Holding her. Absorbing her. Putting her back into the vacant slot in my heart that’s been festering with loneliness since the last time I hurt her.
“I didn’t mean it,” I cry against her soft, whorly hair.
“I know you didn’t.”
It isn’t until I’m shut up in the passenger seat of Lori’s sedan that I realize I never hung up my phone. With Connor still on the line, panicked as hell, I finally tell him where I’m at. He says he’ll be here in five minutes, but with the way he drives, I’m banking on ten.
“Connor’s on his way,” I tell Lori as soon as she slips into the driver’s seat. She turns the engine on just for the heat and rifles through the console compartment until she finds a Kleenex packet.
I watch her scrub blood off her face and check the damage in her visor mirror.
“Maybe this was a mistake,” she says. “Martin told me to give you time, but I didn’t listen. I couldn’t let you leave without seeing you again. I don’t want you to leave at all.”
Without the energy to sit upright, I curl forward and press my forehead to the dash. “I just wanna go home.”
But where is home? Not Artie’s… The beach, maybe. A soccer field, or the warm cocoon of flannel bedsheets. Connor.
With Lori’s hand rubbing between my shoulder blades, I ask, “Why did you even have me? Tell me the truth. Artie didn’t want me. Thalia didn’t want me. Why did you have me?”
Tears gloss her eyes when she answers, “Because I thought it would make me happy.”
“But it didn’t?”
“No, it didn’t.” She scoops my head up with a hand on my cheek. “But that’s not your fault. After I had you, I loved you so much more than I cared about being happy.”
My chin quivers. I look away as I swipe my sleeve under my nose. “Not enough, apparently.”
It really is only five minutes before Connor’s Jeep pulls up beside Lori’s car, and we both climb out at the same time. Looking frazzled and relieved, Connor sweeps his arms around me and sticks his chin on my shoulder.
“You scared the hell outta me,” he says.
I kiss his head and nuzzle his hair.
He pulls back. Not his body, just his head, and just enough to look into my eyes. “What do you wanna do?”
I notice Lori coming around the hood. She stays a few steps back, a bloody tissue still in her grip. Then I look back at my boyfriend.
“Your dad said he’s making chili dogs, right?” I ask.
The corner of Connor’s mouth lifts in a hopeful smile. “Yeah. He’s whipping them up right now. Should be ready by the time we get back. Does that sound good?”
“Mhm.” I lean in and kiss that soft, inviting smile before glancing back at Lori. “Do you, uh, think it would be cool with your folks if my mom eats with us?”
His already wide eyes go a tick wider. “Of course. Yeah, of course.”
To my mom, I ask, “You like chili dogs?”
“Um, y—yes. Sure. Absolutely. I love chili dogs.”