Chapter 48
tomorrow me problem
Cian
“Why am I anxious?” Sariah’s hand is in mine as I drive to her house. Her knee bounces. Her whole body seems to vibrate with nerves.
“If you’re not comfortable, I’ll turn around right now.”
She shakes her head, but her knee never stops its movement.
“One more thing off the list.” She turns to face me. “It’s a shit list, by the way. Let’s get a new one.”
“I’ll get right on that.” Flipping my blinker on, I turn onto Sariah’s street, thinking about the nerves I had that first night. That reminds me. She needs some new peonies. I’ll get right on that too.
“So is it this meeting or the fact that Renée is with my sister that really fuels your nerves?”
“Your sister with my daughter has we-went-to-Jackson-Hole-for-lunch vibes.”
I mime grabbing the words and giving them back to her. “Don’t even suggest it. She could. She would.”
“And Renée won’t discourage that.”
I hate to even think it, but Renée out of state and out of sight isn’t the worst idea as we figure out all the things surrounding us.
I pull into the driveway and put the truck in park. Sliding to face Sariah, I squeeze her hand. “Anything you want to do, I have your back. I will stand beside you or behind you regarding any decision you make. Today and forever.”
She leans over the console and presses her lips to mine. I take the opening and deepen the kiss, one hand going to the back of her head to keep her there.
All too soon she pulls back, holding my gaze. “Are you ready for this?”
“For you and us and our lives, yes. And yes to scratching another thing off our list. You?”
She shrugs. “I’ve never heard Rosie like she was today. I can’t shake that this’s somehow a turning point and things will never be the same again.”
With those ominous words, she flips around and opens her door, hopping out of the truck.
She isn’t wrong. Rosie might as well treat Freddie like the son she never had. The confusion on Sariah’s face is mixed with hurt, and if I’m not mistaken, hope.
Freddie is interesting, he’s engaging, and he’s nervous as fuck. Not shady, but it’s obvious he knows he’s being tested. And he’s worried about passing.
Sariah, though, seems like a guest in her own home. She appears to be looking at it through the lens of an outsider which does something to me.
“Freddie?”
His gaze whips to mine. “Yeah.”
“Mind walking outside with me?”
I expect him to seek permission from Rosie, but he doesn’t. “Sure.” Before he follows, he turns to Sariah. “I know this must feel quick to you and I’ll understand if you don’t agree. But I feel like I know you for as much and as often as Rosie has talked about you.”
He takes a few steps, but he backtracks and adds, “I have a sister who’s your age.
If she were in this situation, I’d probably tell her to decline.
Not because I’m problematic, but it appears more challenging than I’d want for her.
I probably shouldn’t say that to you, but I want you to know I get it.
It’s not easy. And I’ll understand either way. ”
He gives a quick nod and follows me out the kitchen door.
What the hell do I say after that?
I go with the easiest thing. The faster I can check things off my list, the better for me. “Tell me about your sister.”
“Queenie lives on the coast and is a chef. We grew up here in Denver with my grandmother, but she wanted beaches and mild winters. She got wet ones instead of snowy ones but seems thrilled with the life she created. I miss her, but I get to see her a couple of times per year.”
“If she’s there, what keeps you here?”
His eyes slide away. “I have some things I need to accomplish here before I’d consider leaving. And it’s home. I wouldn’t know what to do with flat land.”
“I understand that.” I place my hands on my hips with a sigh. “Rosie is… one of a kind. You have to know how vital she is to Sariah.”
He nods. “I know how vital Sariah is to her. How Sariah and Renée have contributed to her sobriety. I’m not looking to come between them.”
“What are you looking for then?”
“A fresh start. And a safe place to do it.”
I can’t fault the guy. “Not my place,” I start.
“Then best not to say it,” he finishes.
“I’m going to anyway because it’s my family we’re dealing with.”
He lifts his chin.
“Do you have the support system in place to make it when things get tough?”
“I’m working on it.”
Why I do it, I’ll never know. It’s not wise or reasonable, but nonetheless, I hold a palm out for his phone.
Programming my number in, I dial myself and then save his contact.
“You have me. I trust Rosie with the most important things in my life. If she trusts you, that tells me more than you know. You need me, I’ll be there for you. Just let me know when I can help.”
He extends a hand that I shake.
“Thank you.”
I simply nod.
Sariah
“And then we shoved off and flew,” Renée says, recounting her day with Ayla.
My brain is playing tricks on me because all I hear and see is a four-year-old version of my daughter talking about scaling rock faces and hang gliding off of Lookout Mountain.
Hang-fucking-gliding.
Jackson Hole for lunch seems like candy cane dreams comparatively.
“Look.” She produces her phone. There in all her glory is my daughter, wonder and joy smeared across her face, hanging off a winged contraption way too damn high above the earth.
“Ayla got it all on video and managed to get photos too.” She swipes and shot after shot is my girl. “Jack—that was his name—was really good and got us lots of hang time.”
Hang time. God help me.
“Did Ayla do it too?”
“No.” Renée shakes her head. “She said she couldn’t today, but she would next time. Besides, she wanted to shoot me my first time. Will you come with us and glide? It was so much fun. I mean, after the first few minutes. The jump was pretty scary.”
“Are you becoming an adrenaline junkie?” Dear Lord, please say no.
“I don’t think so.” She pauses, becoming thoughtful. She picks at the hem of her tee as she says, “It was nice to be in control, to be brave, and to choose. After last weekend…”
The sentence dies on her tongue.
I put a hand on her knee and squeeze. “Ayla has a friend that might be worth talking to if it’s hard to process. I’d like you to consider it.”
She shrugs. “Are you going to?”
My smart daughter has revealed something in me I didn’t want exposed.
I don’t want to. Not that there’s anything wrong with it. I would rather just push through and deal. “Does it matter?”
“Not really. Ayla and I talked about Joanie today. She says Joanie has been great and makes her think.”
“How’d that come up?”
One shoulder rises and falls. “I don’t know. I told her what I told you–that at least I got to decide today…”
I’m met with another pause. It takes everything in me not to push. When she doesn’t finish, and it’s been several long moments, I do. “Last weekend was terrifying. The idea I couldn’t save you, I couldn’t protect you. It was my worst nightmare.”
She extends a hand. “I’ll go if you go.”
Checkmate.
I would never withhold from her anything that would be for her good. Fuck me, I’m going to therapy.
I take hers and we shake. “Okay. Let’s let Joanie shrink us.”
“I don’t think they say that anymore, Mom.”
“When did you get so wise, Renée?”
“Sometime in that rickety plane over South Dakota, I decided making smart choices was going to be my thing. That and fabulous toenails.”
We both look to her feet. “Then we need pedicures. I have some things to tell you. We can do that while our feet are being pampered.”
Her shrewd eyes land on me.
I continue before the worry can form. “None of it is bad. Maybe it’s weird, but nothing like what you’re thinking. Just things you need to be informed of and things I want to hear your thoughts on.”
She shrinks with her exhale. “You sure?”
“I apologized for not telling you about my history. Frankly, I never wanted you to know. I never thought you’d ever, ever see how I grew up. It was a mistake. I promise I won’t keep anything like that from you ever again. Better, I don’t have anything more like that I could keep from you, so…”
“Okay. And everything’s okay?”
“You’re safe. We’re safe. Stuff can be weird, but not be worth worrying about. Now, I need to change, and we both need Boba, don’t you think?”
Her eyes go wide and light up. “For sure.” She slides off the sofa and heads for her room.
I head for the kitchen and scratch through the Freddie line on Cian’s to-do list and the one that says therapist. He’s also marked off “Mom.” I need to ask about that.
I circle the one that discusses teenage girls. And add one to the bottom of the list—Find Ruth. I don’t know how, but we have to. She was in our care.
Rosie and I didn’t discuss the girls today. She left them at her house while she, Freddie, Cian, and I all met at my house. How I failed to ask can only be testament to how out of my element I was. Out of my element in my own home.
A home I need to pack… That’s a tomorrow-me problem. Today-me is getting a pedicure.
Renée and I get our bubble tea and, during our pedis, I tell her about Cian asking about houses and schools. She perks up at the same time she wilts. Teenage girls are conundrums personified.
“I want your input. Let’s look at where you want to go, not just where you’ve always expected to go. The three of us will make the decision together.”
“But it’s my life.”
“Absolutely. It’s why you get a vote. At fourteen, I had run away from home and didn’t understand a lick of technology or the outside world. You know far more than I did, but I know the real world better now than you do. So I’m looking out. Got it?”
“But Mom.”
“We all get input. You have a take. So do I. Ci might know something neither of us does or have ideas we should listen to. He gets a vote. Not the final say.”
In her exasperation, she stamps her foot and water splashes everywhere.
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry,” she sputters at the tech who’s been working with her. “I’m sorry.” She covers her face with her hands and slinks down in the chair.
“I’m sorry,” I add, though fixing it is harder. It’s not the water on the floor, but the gross tub water that hit the tech in the face that’s the problem. Ick.
The woman rises and heads to the back.
“Née.” I wait for her to face me. “Teachable moment—” I start despite her groan.
“Actions have consequences. We’ll tip her well, but that doesn’t mean that momentary frustration didn’t ruin her day.
It absolutely sucks and I’m not making light of it.
When you start driving, think of this day.
That could kill in a car. It could brutalize if it were words to a classmate.
Not getting your way is an annoyance, not a death sentence. ”
“I know.” Her voice is petulant; her hang-gliding mood is gone.
Might as well rip off the Band-Aid and pile on the challenges. I explain Freddie and how RoRo has taken him under her wing like she did me, that she’s asked about me renting the house to him, that he seems a familiar spirit to our ragtag family dynamic.
“Will he be at family dinners?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?” I answer her question with a question of my own. “I’d say no, but who knows. RoRo has only done this once before, and it’s how we became family.”
“Too much is changing.”
“A lot is changing. Some of that got you hang gliding today with Ayla. Change is inevitable. And it’s not all bad.”
“I want to stay at my old school to finish out middle school.”
“Why?”
“Because of my friends. Because of my teachers. We’ll all split next year. At least I can have eighth grade with my class.”
I nod. “Let’s see if we can make that work.”
Yeah, it goes by home address. Yes, it skirts the line of ethics. My daughter has been through enough. It’s a good school. It gives me more time to find the right house for us. And it’s one thing that doesn’t require change for me or Renée.
We finish up. My daughter chooses a glittery, vibrant orange for herself and flat minty green for me. We tip extra for Renée’s outburst. We’re almost to the car when a voice stops me.
“Ms. Ocotea?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Special Agent Harold Greenwater with the FBI. May I have a moment?”
What the fuck is happening now?