Chapter 8
Fawnie
None of this was supposed to happen, so maybe I can look at everything that has, as a bonus.
It doesn’t feel like a bonus.
It feels like I want to do all the things that I promised Shadow I wouldn’t. Oh, and I never should have name dropped him last night. What right did I think I had to use Finn? Or start kissing him?
“Ugh, Bubby, I’m such a disaster.” I roll over in bed and come face to face with my snoring, elderly cat.
For the past few years, she’s started sticking her tongue out when she sleeps. Whether it’s going to be barely peeking out, or lolling is anyone’s guess. She’s snoring loudly on the pillow opposite mine. It’s her favorite place to sleep since I moved here.
“Please convince me not to text him.”
She snores even louder.
“I’m not going to do it. I’m going to clean up the kitchen, pack up those cookies to go to the clubhouse, and make us both breakfast.”
Still nothing.
She won’t wake up until I bring her tuna salmon pate mix in and basically wave it under her nose. She’s never been a very food-motivated cat, but that stuff never fails to get her going in the morning.
I know what I’m having for breakfast. Coffee, and my pick of a cookie.
The doorbell rings, chiming through the bedroom. Bubby doesn’t wake up, but I freeze. I’m in my usual oversized t-shirt and thin pajama pants combo.
Is it Shadow? Did he come here this morning to talk?
That’s a silly thing to think. For one, it’s daylight. For two, uh… we basically had enough closure that he wouldn’t show up first thing this morning. It’s not like he ran out of cookies and decided to come back for more. I gave him a week’s supply.
I throw on a pair of jeans that are hanging out on the end of the bed.
I wrestle my t-shirt off, throw on a black tank top, and wrench the first sweater out of the dresser that I can find.
It’s my old college crew neck, washed and worn so many times it’s thin enough for summer wear.
I finger-comb my hair on the way to the door.
It’s probably my dad, come by to surprise me.
I run through the kitchen and pull it open.
I gape at the woman on the other side. “Mom?” I one hundred million percent did not see this coming.
As soon as I recover, I cross my arms and lean one shoulder on the doorframe.
I know my mom so well that my question doesn’t come out as a guess.
I know it’s true. “You drove all the way across the country to drag me home?”
I haven’t been in Hart all that long, but Mom looks different.
Her sandy blonde hair is combed back severely, which only highlights the shadows under her blue eyes and the deep creases bracketing her lips.
She’s always dressed nicely, but the white blouse she has tucked into a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and her knee high boots, only serve to make her look too thin. Far thinner than when I last saw her.
“I’ve called you so many times that your voicemail is full.
I’ve texted you and you won’t get back to me.
What else was I supposed to do? I know that you’re mad at me for wanting you to stay in Ohio for college, and for keeping you from your dad.
You think it was wrong, but I was only trying to protect you.
He left me and took up with another woman.
He left the church for a biker club. He gave up all the good things that we had.
Is that the kind of man who would make a good father, a proper father, to a young girl? ”
“Mom!” I step outside, grab her upper arm, and jerk her in through the open door.
I slam it shut. My face is scalding hot.
I’m so embarrassed that she’d start airing that out on my doorstep after she freaking came all this way.
“Wait. Did you fly?” I rush to the kitchen window, part the blinds, and sure enough.
There’s a fancy, shiny rental car parked down in the alley.
Makes sense. It’s a thirty-three hour drive here from Ohio. I’ve done it three times now, and it is long.
Mom nods. “I wanted to buy us return tickets, but I wasn’t sure about Bubby, and you have your car here.
” She grasps my shoulders and practically shakes me without shaking me, going for the good old sense knock.
“You’re coming back with me, though. You moving here?
It’s a mistake. It’s going to make everything more complicated for school and then there’s—”
“Mom.” I gently brush her hands away and walk to the counter. I grab a peanut butter cookie and munch on it, filling my mouth so I have a moment where I’m not going to say something I’ll regret.
“Why on earth do you have all these cookies?”
“Baking. For the clubhouse.”
That gets her going. I wince as her face gets red. Not like mine did. She’s pissed. “You can’t be serious.”
“Yeah. I am. This is honestly why I haven’t answered your calls or listened to your voicemails.
I don’t have anything to say that you want to hear.
You won’t listen to what I want. I want to be here.
I want to have a relationship with my dad.
I want to get to know the guys at the club because they’re good people. ”
“They’re no-good bikers and I’m not going to get started on that whore—”
I cut her off before she has a chance to rant about the person she always saw as the other woman, even though there was nothing between my father and Rita until after he left Mom.
“I want to have a friendship with Rita and the boys. They’re his family too.
I want you to make peace with that. I’m an adult and these are my choices.
I’m here because I want to be here, not to hurt you or make you mad or be defiant.
” I’m through with not being pissed. I can’t help myself.
“You might have been cautious for a while. I could have accepted that. But keeping Dad from me for years? Not letting me tell him about the fire that I almost died in? Not giving me any of his birthday or Christmas cards? That was just so fucked up.”
Mom’s eyes bulge. “Don’t use that language, please.”
“I’ll use whatever language I want!” I slash my hand through the air, but it’s the one holding the cookie, so crumbs fly all over the kitchen.
“Just like I’ll stay where I want. I’m an adult and you can do nothing about it.
You aren’t going to change my mind by clinging to your own bitterness, fears, and brainwashed ideas.
Just because someone thinks differently than you do doesn’t make them a bad person.
You knew dad. You knew that no matter what happened, he never would have stopped loving me.
He wasn’t going to corrupt me. You didn’t even bother to think! ”
That’s a full stop, hard pause.
Mom is pretty quiet. The kitchen feels worse than a warzone.
Wordlessly, I fill the coffee maker and get it going. I dumped out the cold pot last night, so there’s no clean up this morning.
By the time I turn back around, Mom is sitting in one of the kitchen chairs. She has her knee crossed over the other. She’s upright. Defensive. We’re so far from finished with this conversation.
I keep my distance, leaning hard against the counter.
“All I ever did was think about what happened,” she says, her voice more calm and even than I thought it would be.
“About your dad, about you, about all of us. I tried to reason. I tried to forgive. I tried to do the right thing. It wasn’t all about bitterness and prejudice, as you seem to think, in all your wisdom and experience of nothing happening to you in your very sheltered life. ”
That’s a lose-lose for me,” I say carefully. “If I’m sheltered, it was you who kept me that way, and if I point that out, then I’m an ungrateful brat. I’m the bad daughter who lost her way. I’m just going through a rebellious phase. I’m the one too stupid to see the bigger picture.”
“You’re not stupid, Fawnie, and I know you’re not ungrateful. Maybe I was wrong. If you need to hear me say that, then I’ll say it.”
Okay, what?
Bomb blast number two. Or are we at three? Does Mom showing up here at all count as the first one?
“I want you to believe it, not just say what you think I want to hear.”
“I do believe it. I never meant to drive you away.” She covers her face with her hands and does something I’ve rarely ever seen her do.
She cries.
Her shoulders shake with her sobs.
I don’t know why she’s always felt the need to hide her emotions, but this is one of the first times that Mom’s ever cried that wasn’t behind a closed door. Other than the night of the fire, obviously. She held me and wept.
“Mom.” I pat her shoulder. I’m not uncomfortable.
I just don’t know what to do to make any of this better.
I don’t know how to be the parent. “You didn’t drive me away.
It’s a big country and an even bigger world and I want to see some of it.
Like I said, I want to get to know my dad again.
” I rub small circles between her shoulder blades.
“If you’re here and you can admit that you were scared and that what you did was wrong, and you want to rebuild, we can start.
If you apologized to Dad and honestly meant it, I know he’d forgive you.
I would too. Dad might have changed his life because he needed to, but he never changed the shape of his heart.
It’s always been the biggest one I know. ”
Mom raises her head. Her cheeks are tear stained and her face is flushed. I have no idea what to expect. This whole morning has been so crazy. This whole week has been wild. I’ve heard truths and told truths. I’ve learned more about myself in a few days than I have in years.