Chapter 11 Alex
ALEX
We stopped at a sandwich shop with weathered shingles and a deck lined with picnic tables.
By then, I’d calmed down a little. Still, the violent urges I’d had earlier had left me wrung out like a dirty dishcloth.
Gillian, fortunately, seemed to be keeping it together.
Bella seemed to be in a similar daze as I, but somehow we managed to get out of the car and follow Gillian inside the small restaurant perched above the cliffs.
We made our way outside, finding a table with a view of the ocean.
Bella and I sat on one side of the table, and Gillian on the other.
Bella kept her head down, brown hair covering most of her tear-stained face.
Soon, we had waters and menus.
I was still too upset to feel hungry and assumed the others weren’t either, but Gillian had been right to suggest lunch. We needed a breather before we went back to real life.
We ordered sandwiches. BLTs for Bella and me and a turkey and cheddar for Gillian. After the server left, we sat in silence for a moment, tension and uncertainty taking the place of words.
“I should text your brother,” I said. “Let him know you’re all right.”
“He knows too?” Bella asked, cheeks flushing.
“What did you expect?” I asked.
Bella shrugged and averted her gaze, looking toward the water.
Gillian tilted her head, looking over at Bella with sympathy in her green eyes. “Bella, can I share something with you?”
Bella lifted a shoulder. “If you want.”
“I grew up without a father. My mother was a mess most of my life—drugs and bad choices in men. My sister was ten years older than I, so she basically raised me.”
“Why was she so much older?” Bella asked.
“My mother got pregnant at sixteen with my sister. Her boyfriend didn’t stick around.
So it was the two of them. My mom struggled to take care of a baby alone.
She fell in with some bad people in the trailer park where we lived.
According to my sister, who remembered a lot even though she was so young, that’s when my mom started using drugs.
When Shelley—my sister—was ten, my mom hooked up with some random guy she met in a bar.
He was married. My mom never told me about it but Shelley remembered him coming by for a month or so.
Long enough that he got her pregnant. He bailed, of course, when he found out.
Said he couldn’t leave his real family and all that. ”
Bella exhaled a sigh but didn’t say anything.
“I was naturally curious about my father but my mom wouldn’t tell me anything about him.
After I begged her, Shelley told me what she remembered.
Fancy car. Shiny shoes. Boxes of chocolates.
He brought those with him whenever he came to see my mom.
Anyway, as I grew up, I asked more questions and eventually, one night when my mom was drunk, she told me his name and where he lived.
It was in a wealthy neighborhood of Sacramento. I took two buses to get there.”
“You went to see him?” Bella asked, eyes wide. “How old were you?”
“Fourteen. Just like you. By this time, my mom had died.”
“Oh.” Bella’s gaze didn’t leave Gillian.
“Like you, I had this hope that, if he met me, he would decide he wanted me after all.”
“But that didn’t happen?” Bella asked.
“No. I went up to his front door and rang the bell. It was this big brick house. I could hear the sound of children playing in a pool in the backyard. This man came to the door. Green eyes, like mine. But he was older than I’d expected—balding and overweight—flushed cheeks like someone who drank a lot. ”
“Did he know who you were right away?” Bella asked. “Because Darren knew me.”
“Because you look like your mom,” I said.
Gillian continued as if I hadn’t interrupted. “Yes, I believe he did. Regardless, I told him. ‘I’m Gillian and you’re my father.’ Then I just stood there, waiting for him to welcome me inside. But he didn’t. Instead, he acted like he had no idea who I was. Told me to leave or he’d call the police.”
I’d not heard this story before. My heart hurt, thinking of a young Gillian standing on that front porch, waiting for him to open a door into his life.
“That was the one and only time I saw him,” Gillian said.
“I felt like such a fool. As I said, by that point my mother was dead and I was living with my newly married sister and her husband. She was twenty-four and had managed to put herself through law school and take care of me at the same time. When I got home and told Shelley what I’d done, she cried.
She asked me what she’d done to make me want to find him. ”
“She blamed herself?” Bella asked.
“That’s right. I confessed to this fantasy that maybe he’d want me after all and then I wouldn’t have to be such a burden on her and my brother-in-law.
She assured me I wasn’t a burden, even though I knew how hard she worked to keep me fed and clothed and enrolled in ballet classes.
Regardless, she told me I would always have her and that we didn’t need anyone but each other.
My sister was there for all of it, like a mother to me.
Four years later, I earned a spot at a ballet academy in New York City.
I was about to begin my second year when I got the call that she’d died.
My sister and brother-in-law had been in a car accident.
Both killed instantly. In their will, they named me as their baby’s guardian.
So, at nineteen, I left school and came home to take care of my six-month-old niece. ”
“Why are you telling me this?” Bella asked. It could have come off as rude but my daughter’s tone was more curious than cruel.
“Because I get it. I understand what it’s like to miss someone so much it’s like physical pain. There’s not a day goes by that I don’t wish my sister was here. Even though raising Grace has been such a gift, I still wonder sometimes what all of our lives would have been like had Shelley lived.”
“Do you ever wake up in the morning and think for a second it was all just a nightmare?” Bella asked.
“Not anymore. But that first year after Shelley died, I did. And I had this little baby who needed me, and I was barely grown myself.”
Bella had never told me she woke up that way. This conversation was proving quite educational about both of them.
“I keep waiting to feel better,” Bella said. “And everyone seems to be moving on except me. Peter loves where we live. Dad’s … dating.”
“And it all feels like a betrayal to your mother?” Gillian asked.
“Yeah. Even though I know she’s not here and never will be again,” Bella said. “And that everything’s different.”
Our food arrived then, distracting us from the conversation. A seagull landed on the railing, eyeing the potato chips. I shooed it away. As it drifted into the ocean breeze, it squawked in protest of my lack of sharing.
We ate in silence, the chatter all around us a good buffer.
After a few minutes, Bella set aside her plastic plate and leaned her shoulder against mine. “Dad, I know you’re the one who wants me. Who’s been here. I’ve been acting awful. I try not to but then it just comes out. I’m sorry for all the things I’ve said lately.”
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight against me. “It’s all right. We’re going to get through this.”
“I miss her so much,” Bella said.
“I know, baby. I know,” I said.
“Don’t just erase her. Please.” Bella pressed her cheek against my chest.
“I’m not erasing her. But she wanted me to keep on living. She said I should be open to a new love should the right person come along. She told me that right before she died.” I chuckled. “She also said if I chose some skank, she’d come back to haunt me.”
Bella giggled. “That sounds like her.” She straightened, looking across the table at Gillian. “She was super tough.”
“Suffered no fools,” I said. “Kept us all in line.”
“What kind of sandwich would she have ordered today?” Gillian asked.
Bella looked out toward the ocean, and then up to the sky. “Cheese and avocado. That was her favorite.”
“With pickles on the side,” I said.
“Yeah, she loved pickles,” Bella said.
“Did you know your mom was the one who suggested Willet Cove,” I said. “Thought I should move you guys to a beach town, where life was quieter.”
“Really?” Bella asked.
“And you know I could never say no to her,” I said. “So here we are.”
Gillian met my eyes from across the table.
Instead of feeling threatened by memories of my wife and Bella’s mother, she’d asked about her.
A gesture that touched my heart and reminded me of why I’d fallen so hard for her all those years before.
This was a woman of character and generosity, without insecurity.
Considering the details of her childhood, it was almost hard to believe she’d turned out as she had.
“We should grill tonight,” I said. “You and Grace should come for dinner.”
I saw her glance in Bella’s direction to gauge her reaction before answering.
“Bella, how would you feel about that?” Gillian asked.
“I’d feel fine,” Bella said casually.
“Great. We’ll be there,” Gillian said.
I paid the bill and then we all got up from the table and headed toward the car.
I gestured for Bella to take the lead, but instead she grabbed my hand like she used to when she was small, then looked back to smile at Gillian.
That small act of openness nearly made me cry.
As hard as today had been, it had brought us together. I just hope it stuck.
That evening, I paced around the kitchen, getting in Sonya’s way as she prepared a marinade for the chicken. We had music playing and the French doors to the patio open, letting in the briny scent of the sea.
“Don’t be nervous, Senor Alex,” Sonya said. “Everything will be all right.”
“I just hope Bella behaves herself,” I said quietly, aware that the kids were upstairs.
“She’s humbled after what happened earlier,” Sonya said. “Poor sweetie.”