Chapter Thirty
Karina
I found myself at my father’s house by choice. What a complicated emotion regret is. I had gone from declaring that I was never going to see my father again to driving to his house after work. I hadn’t called ahead, so I was relieved that his truck was parked in the driveway and the interior lights of the house were on. It was so hard to make sense of what I was feeling when it came to every aspect of my life. Everything had changed so rapidly, and I couldn’t get a grip on it. Before I could mentally spiral any longer, I got out of my car and walked up the sidewalk and onto the porch.
Estelle was the one who answered the door. She was dressed casually, in dark jeans and a white scoop-neck top. Her hair was down, like she had let the air dry it, which surprised me, but it looked effortless and pretty on her. I wanted to tell her that, but my father’s voice sounded out between us.
“Who is it?” he asked, clearly in a bad mood. The tone of his voice sent me straight back to my childhood. It had been an awful idea to come here. What the hell was I thinking?
“Karina,” Estelle and I responded in unison.
“Oh.” He stood next to Estelle and looked me up and down, taking in my work clothes. I felt underdressed and suddenly insecure. I hated that one look from him could do that to me, no matter how old I was.
“What’s wrong?” he asked me, softening the smallest of bits.
Shaking my head, I held my hand up. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, I just . . . I don’t know. I wanted to come over. I should have called or something before but—”
“You can always come here, no need to call ahead,” Estelle said. The look she gave my father felt like she was coaching him or reminding him, like she was forcing him to agree with her.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t come here. I assumed something was wrong because you never just come here out of the blue,” he said.
What the heck was my plan now? To sit in the living room and watch TV with him and Estelle? To ask about the weather? His health? My head ached at my own stupid, spontaneous choice to come here.
“Have you eaten dinner?” Estelle asked as she closed the front door behind me.
“No, actually.” I hadn’t eaten since the morning when Kael handed me a piece of toast as I left for work. I’d overslept, my body tired from organizing and rearranging every inch of my house all night.
“Why don’t we order some pizza?” she suggested, looking at my dad, who would never in a million years turn down pizza.
“Not Domino’s,” he said, as always.
It had been years since I’d thought about his boycott of Domino’s, and it made me laugh a little that he was still holding strong to such a petty thing. When I was in middle school I won a certificate for a free pizza for reading the most in my class over winter break, and when my parents took me to get my prize, they wouldn’t accept the coupon. My father argued with the manager for nearly an hour while my mother doodled all over their wooden table with a hairpin, carving thin swirls into the wood. I sat quietly, no longer wanting the pizza at all, but wasn’t used to my father fighting for me over anything, so gladly sat there waiting for a resolution. We left with no pizza and went straight to Pizza Hut, and my dad vowed to never eat Domino’s again in his life, which he’d apparently kept up with.
“I know, honey.” Estelle smiled, making me wonder if he had told her the story. If we’d had a normal relationship, I would ask her or tell her about it, but we didn’t, so I relived the memory myself as we moved to sit down in the living room.
Estelle called Pizza Hut herself, which felt nostalgic. No one called places to order food anymore; apps and laptops and iPads were the way now, but I kind of liked that she called even though it took forever for such a simple order. While we waited, I could tell my dad was uneasy, not sure what to do with me. This was different than the forced family dinners; I’d come here of my own free will. He kept glancing at me, then at the football game on the TV, then back to me.
Once the pizza arrived, I stood up from the couch to go to the dining room.
“Let’s eat in here. I’ll grab some plates,” my father suggested.
I’m sure to most people it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, but I had never seen my dad or Estelle eat in any room of the house other than their dining room. The casual pizza, to eating in the living room, to my dad being the one to offer to get the plates? Was he worse off healthwise than he was acting? It sure as hell seemed like it.
“I heard Mendoza’s been healing better than expected,” my dad said when we were done eating.
“Yeah, thank god,” I agreed, wondering if my father even cared about Mendoza or any of the soldiers under him or if he was just making conversation with me.
“Karina . . .” The tone of his voice sounded a bit like he was choking. “When I got that call, hearing that you and your brother were in danger—” He paused. “I understand that you don’t see me as a protector and barely as a father, but it was the scariest moment of my life. I never wanted you to be affected by this part of military life, and I always expected you to stay away from it the best you could, like your mother.”
“Dad . . .” I was just as fumbly and speechless as he was. We had never had a conversation like this before, and I thought I even saw a gloss of tears in his eyes as he found his next words.
“I will do everything in my power to make sure Phillips is off the streets and locked away somewhere. He won’t be coming near you or Elodie again. And if he would have succeeded in killing my son or my daughter, I would have ended his life myself.”
The intensity of my father’s words and the way his mouth twisted was overwhelming but felt good, a relief that he actually gave a shit about us. Or maybe I was being na?ve, I didn’t know, but it felt better than nothing, which was what I’d expected.
“How are you feeling, Karina? You must have been so scared,” Estelle asked me, holding a paper towel in her hands, tearing at the edges with her eggplant-hued painted nails.
“Thanks again for taking care of me after it happened,” I told Estelle. “I’m okay. I think? Yeah, I’m okay.” My response was jumbled, but it was how I felt.
Her eyes widened in concern. “If you need to talk to anyone, I have some friends who work in mental health, all across the spectrum, so don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Friends?” I blurted. It was absolutely meant to be an inside thought.
Her laughter surprised me. “Yes, I know it’s hard to imagine, but I do have friends. Not many, but I do have some.”
Her lighthearted response to my insult made me feel a little better. I was genuinely surprised at the idea of her with friends, or with anyone who wasn’t my father. From my perspective, it seemed like her life began and ended at the front door of this house, but I was glad to know that wasn’t true.
“Thank you for the offer. I’m still processing what happened, but thank you.”
“I’ll make sure Mendoza and his family are taken care of,” my dad added. “He saved your brother’s life.”
I felt a little sick, the memory still fresh in my mind. It played through like a film on an IMAX screen. Gloria’s screams and the blood soaking the floor, everyone scattering, Kael . . .
“I’m going to get some air,” I said as my chest heaved. Without looking at my dad and Estelle, I stood up, the room slightly blurry, like the lines of everything were fuzzy around the edges. When I stepped outside, the air was chilly, bringing a little more awareness to my mind. I sat on the swing, lifting my feet, waiting for my body to come down from fight-or-flight. I pulled my phone out to call Kael. His voice would calm me. The swing moved slowly as his soothing voice came through the line. I hadn’t forgotten about him knowing about my father’s situation, but right now none of that mattered.
“Hey, you okay?” he immediately asked.
“Yeah. I think so? I’m at my dad’s and he started talking like an actual dad, Estelle was offering me her therapist friends, it was a lot. I needed some air. I came out to the porch swing and just wanted to hear your voice.”
“I agree with Estelle,” he told me.
“Are you being sarcastic?” I kicked my feet up. I had left my shoes inside by the door and my socks had little penguins on them. I wiggled my toes, pretending to be a girl on the phone with her boyfriend, no life-changing events happening around her, no near-death experiences.
“A little, but I do think she’s right that you should talk to someone. What happened isn’t something you should brush off or ignore. I know you want to show yourself that you’re strong, but sometimes strength lies in admitting when you need a little more than yourself to lean on.”
“Hmm. I’ve been to therapists many, many times about my childhood and my mom and honestly, I’m not sure that it—” I blinked at a movement in the yard.
I was positive I was losing my mind. That Estelle and Kael were both right. Or had I fallen asleep at some point and was dreaming? The woman walked toward me, her eyes set straight on me. I wiped my eyes with my hands, sure as hell that it wasn’t possible that I was seeing what I thought I was. Or whom I thought I was.
My mom.
She was here?
In person?
At my father’s house?
“Karina?”
The way she said my name made it sound like she was the one who should be surprised to see me.
I pushed my socked feet into the concrete porch to stop the swing from moving. My phone slid off the edge and hit the porch, face down. I couldn’t move to pick it up. My mom hadn’t changed physically since I last saw her. Her already long hair was a few inches longer, now passing her waist. She was dressed in a long, colorful patchwork tunic and leggings with large wildflowers printed on them. The tunic had long patterned sleeves that flared out at the ends. She looked like she’d walked out of a photo from Woodstock, a bohemian flower child of a woman who was floating toward me. I wasn’t sure her sandaled feet were even touching the ground.
“What are you . . . why are . . .” My heart pounded so hard that it felt like I was shaking the ground beneath us. She’d finally, finally come back to find me. I couldn’t believe it, even though she was right there. I didn’t know why she’d chosen now, but I was so elated to see her that tears involuntarily poured out of my eyes like they were water sprinklers.
I jumped to my feet and confusion washed over me as her face shifted into a frown. Was something wrong with her? Did she come back to tell me that she was sick? Oh god, I thought, both of my parents were sick? My mind couldn’t keep up with the theories flying around.
“Is your dad home?” Her voice carried through the light wind. Her eyes went to the window behind me, the yellow glow of the light through the window casting a shadow onto her face.
“Yeah. And Estelle.” I realized my mom probably had no idea that my dad was remarried. “Estelle is—”
“I know who she is.” My mom’s lips turned into a smile but the shape of it made me take a step back, my knees knocking into the front edge of the wooden swing. There was something off about the way she was behaving. It didn’t seem like she was drunk or anything, just off. Or maybe I had created a version of her that wasn’t reality, but when I imagined our reunion, she was always running toward me with open arms and teary eyes, telling me how sorry she was while she stroked my hair and hugged me tight.
Instead, she stood at the bottom of the porch like she was a vampire who hadn’t been invited in. I was at a loss for words and waited for her to say or do something.
The door creaked open behind me and Estelle stepped onto the porch. I felt like the porch was spinning—it had to be a dream.
“Karina, who are you . . . Michelle, what are you doing here?” Estelle’s tone was one I had never heard from her.
“I’m here to see Dennis. To finish our conversation from the other day,” my mom replied, equally as hostile.
“The other day?” I interrupted. “You were here the other day?” None of this made any sense.
“Karina, could you please give us a moment?” Estelle asked me. I jerked my neck, snapping at her.
“Give you a moment? She’s my mother and I haven’t seen her in—” I trailed off, digesting the disinterested look on my mother’s face.
“Where is he?” my mom asked, not acknowledging my outrage and confusion. Was this the same woman who’d told me tales and hummed me to sleep? Maybe she was on drugs? Or suffered from memory loss? Nothing made any damn sense.
“He’s inside, but he will not be talking to you.” Estelle was firm, to which my mother laughed, covering her mouth.
“Is that his choice or yours? Dennis!” My mom shouted for my father.
He stepped onto the porch with lighting speed, rushing down the stairs, his finger pointing directly in my mother’s face.
“What are you doing at my house, yelling at my wife?” He was only inches away from her. Given the past, my instinct was to protect my fragile mother, but in the moment, she didn’t seem fragile at all.
I stood still, my world becoming more and more confusing by the second.
“We never finished chatting the other day. You said you would call me, but you didn’t,” my mother said to him.
A look of disbelief flashed across his face. “So you thought the appropriate response would be to show up at my home, again? I was very clear last time, and I’ll say it again. I don’t have anything for you.”
“Dennis, if we can just talk alone.” My mother was practically begging. What on earth could she possibly want from him? She hated him, or at least I thought she did. Was it money? A place to stay?
“I don’t have anything to say to you that I haven’t already said. You should explain yourself to your daughter, who looks as if she’s seen a ghost. She should be your priority right now.” Disgust echoed in his voice.
She looked at me, her expression unreadable. She seemed to be looking for some sort of escape, but I wouldn’t allow that. If she tried to leave, I would chase her, like I hadn’t been able to the first time.
“Mom . . .”
“We will be inside,” my dad said before my mom could respond. Estelle crossed her arms at her chest.
“I don’t think we should—” she began, but was interrupted by my mom.
“She’s my daughter. Give us privacy,” my mom snapped.
Clearly she had a major issue with my father’s new wife, even though my mom was the one who’d left him in the first place. I didn’t even know when she and Estelle had met, but it was clear they had.
Estelle’s worried expression stayed in my head as she went inside the house, leaving me on the porch with my mother. My heart was racing; I had so much to say to her. I had so many questions.
“This is probably a shock to you, seeing me like this. I had no idea you would be here, or that you’re even on speaking terms with your father. And I didn’t realize you were so close with Estelle.”
“I’m not close with her.”
Anger bloomed inside of my chest as I realized that her focus was on Estelle and me having a relationship with my dad, not that she missed me or was happy to see me. She hadn’t even hugged me yet.
“That’s what you have to say to me after all this time?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest.
She shook her head and took a step closer. I inched back without intending to, but I was shifting into fight-or-flight mode, completely on edge.
“I have so much to say to you, Kare. I have been so busy, on a journey to find myself and who I am. Without being your father’s wife or a mother.” She smiled as if what she was saying was the best news on earth and not devastating for me to hear. I was too stunned to speak. “After I left, I spent a lot of time alone with my thoughts. And you know what I realized? I was never meant to be a mother. Being a military wife, an officer’s at that, was not for me. I spent my entire life living for you guys and not for myself. I was a shell of a woman, miserable, and had no sense of self. But now, Kare, I know exactly who I am, and it’s wonderful.” She was beaming, a bigger smile than I could ever recall seeing on her face.
“Wonderful?” I choked out.
She nodded as the air left my lungs. Was I supposed to be proud of her and her fucking self-discovery, which made her feel like what she’d done was right? Was it right? It seemed like it’d been the best for her, but what about me and Austin?
“Yes. I hope you have this feeling someday, Kare. Of just complete peace.” She spun around at the bottom of the porch, her tunic rising up and dancing around her.
“Mom,” I began.
“Please, call me Michelle,” she corrected me. If heartbreak had a sound, the entire neighborhood would have heard mine.
There were no words for the pain searing through me. Shock, torment, rejection, envy of her carelessness—it was too much. I could taste the vinegar-like bile in the back of my throat. I swallowed it down, squared my shoulders, and tried my damnedest not to collapse in front of her.
“You’re totally fine with the fact that you abandoned your family without so much as a phone call or even a letter, only to come back here now and have the audacity to tell me how great your life is now that I’m not in it?”
She scoffed. Literally fucking scoffed at me, like I was the one in the wrong here.
“You sound like your father.” She half laughed.
Maybe she was on drugs? Or had she really convinced herself that her perspective was okay? She seemed genuinely happy and at peace; maybe her perspective was just that, hers. Did that make it okay? I wasn’t sure anymore.
“I’ve been traveling around the South for a while, deciding where to settle, and ironically, I started dating a soldier! Who would have thought? He’s younger than me, embarrassingly so, but he’s a good guy. And he’s stationed here for now, but got orders for Hawaii.” She tried to cover her smile with her hands, looking like a smitten schoolgirl. “I get to live in Hawaii, Kare. You know I’ve always loved Hawaii.”
“You’ve never so much as mentioned Hawaii in my life, but good for you?” I pushed my hands through my hair, tugging at the roots in an attempt to ground myself.
“You’re being a little judgmental.”
If I was a violent person, I would have slapped her across the face right then and there.
“I am judging you. Not because you’re dating someone or moving to Hawaii. I’m judging you because you basically told me that you’ve decided being a mother wasn’t for you, like it wouldn’t hurt or impact me to hear that. Like I’m supposed to just smile and be happy for you? As if I hadn’t spent the last six years wondering where you were, worrying about you, thinking you missed me. You haven’t asked me a single question, like if I’m okay or what I’ve been doing since you left. You haven’t even given me a hug.” My emotions took over and I couldn’t control my voice as it cracked, but I refused to cry even though it felt nearly impossible not to.
“I was just filling you in on my life, I thought you would be happy for me. I haven’t gotten the chance to ask you anything yet,” she said, manipulation covering her words.
“You’ve had years.”
“I told you I was finding my way. You really are like your father, always focusing on the negative, always demanding.”
“Stop saying that!” I screamed. “You don’t even know me! You chose not to, and you show up here for what? What do you need from Dad anyway? Money? Are you on drugs?”
My mother lunged toward me but I dodged her before she could touch me. “Drugs? Don’t you dare accuse me of being on drugs because you can’t accept that I’m happy.”
“All I’ve ever hoped for is that you’re happy, but this entire time I had this idea in my head that you were pining for me, missing me every day, hoping that I was taken care of, but in reality you’ve completely erased me from your life, memory, and future. I thought you were here to, I don’t know, apologize, or at least feel a little bit bad for all the pain you’ve caused.”
“I was also in pain,” she had the audacity to say.
“I was a child!”
“But you’re not anymore. You should be able to understand what I went through and why I had to leave and stay gone. I did what was best for all of us.”
The words clicked and I realized she was right. Her leaving was probably the best thing that had happened to me and my brother, even if it had hurt like hell and given us both different forms of trauma. I couldn’t imagine how much worse it would have gotten, and she had already left us in a house that was burning. As I was about to remind her of that, an orange hatchback car pulled up in front of the house. I couldn’t make out the face but there was a man behind the wheel. He called her name and she waved, smiling like we had been simply talking about the weather.
“You’re right. You are not meant to be a mother and should have never been one,” I told her.
“Karina, that’s harsh. I don’t want to leave on this note, but I have to go. Your brother has my number if you want to call me, but I assume you won’t.”
As pathetic as it was, I was still hoping for her to hug me, one last embrace before disappearing from my life again. But there was no embrace, no affection, no comfort. Just a narcissistic woman I had longed for when I shouldn’t have.
As she got into the car she waved at me, and I tried to memorize her face one last time before I broke down, crumbling onto the hard surface of the porch, crying not for me, but for the little girl who’d created her own fantasy of a mother she never had.
I didn’t hear the door open, but before I knew it Estelle was next to me, her arms wrapping around my shoulders as she hugged my shaking body. Flashes of my childhood ran through my mind; both versions of my mother were there as we danced around the living room, made beaded bracelets, braided my hair, then as she sat lifeless on the couch for days, screamed at my dad for working too much, told me stories of escaping and never coming back.
“Karina, I’m so sorry,” Estelle cried, stroking my hair.
I untucked my chin and looked at her. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face blotchy and full of anguish. She felt more for me than my mother did, and that revelation made me even more emotional. I hugged her back and the porch swing rocked in the wind, bumping into my arm and scratching it. I pushed it away, suddenly disgusted by it, but it swung back and almost hit me again.
“This swing! Fuck! I never want to sit on this again,” I told Estelle.
She looked at it, and back to me. “Let’s take it down?”
“Really? Don’t you like it?”
“I like you more. And I’ve always hated that fucking thing, if I’m being honest.”
Estelle being the person to comfort me was not what I’d expected, but I welcomed it. I stood up, brushing my work pants off.
“How exactly do we take it down?” I wanted to smash the thing into a million pieces, but logically, I didn’t know what to do unless she handed me a hammer.
We looked at one another and shared a laugh. Both of us were still wet from crying, but we stood there laughing as my father joined us. He was beyond confused as he took in the sight of two half-mad women on his porch laughing and crying at the same time.
“Honey, can you take this dreadful swing down for us?”
“Are you sure?” He looked at me, knowing how much I had always loved that thing. I nodded, never wanting to see it again.
A part of me healed as my dad got his toolbox and began to take the swing down. Estelle kept rubbing her hand along my back, a movement that I think would normally have made me uncomfortable, but it didn’t. It felt nice, calming. I couldn’t wrap my head around what had just happened or process the years of abandonment I had felt, only to have that feeling multiply by a thousand within the last ten minutes. My conversation with my mother had lasted less than five minutes; she couldn’t even be bothered to stay longer than that. The sound of the wooden swing falling onto the porch was music to my ears.
I felt so stupid for putting so much emotional value on an object, somehow tying my mother’s memory to the stupid thing. Now that it was on the ground, it looked so worn and useless. It felt like a metaphor for my life, or what I thought my life was.