Chapter 113
Maple
@Amelieeeetalking, TikTok
So is Jake the photographer also Blake the modeling agent? I’m so confused #findMaple
‘What?’ Dad’s eyes widen – the man who’s always been my dad, who saved my life, and the life of this man who might also be my dad. He looks at me, then at Brandon. Color drains from his face. ‘Is that why you’re here?’ he asks. ‘Did you really come to save her?’
Brandon nods, but his face cracks and he drops his eyeline to the floor.
‘My life has mostly been a car wreck,’ he admits quietly.
‘Big dreams about making it in Vegas, all crushed. Lost nearly ten years to booze and drugs. Finally got myself sober, but all I’ve really got to be proud of is volunteering at a homeless shelter once a week. It’s not much, is it?’
He goes quiet for a while, then finally lifts his head and looks at me.
‘But then I pick up some work on a photoshoot, and everything changes. I recognized your mom first; she hasn’t changed that much in fifteen years.
Then I looked at you in that glass box, really looked.
And yeah, the math worked out, but it wasn’t that.
It was like I’d seen you before, but in photos of my mom when she was a kid.
’ He bites his lip. ‘The likeness is crazy.’
‘That’s why you dropped the equipment,’ I murmur, remembering the moment, how I laughed to hide my discomfort.
Then I think about his mom. I have sat at my vanity so many times wishing I had honey blond hair like Mom, or strawberry blond like Dad and the twins.
When all along there was someone out there who I did resemble. Another grandma.
‘Then of course I had to know everything about you,’ Brandon continues.
‘And it was so easy. Your whole life was right there on YouTube. And when I realized you were this smart, beautiful, funny girl who cared about people you’d never met …
’ He smiles and there are tears in his eyes now.
‘But I went about it all wrong. Pretending to be a modeling agent called Blake, getting family photos that didn’t make it online, trying to meet you without your mom there.
I guess I thought you’d refuse to see me if I was honest about who I was.
‘I even messaged you direct a couple of times,’ he admits in a gruff whisper.
‘Asked you to meet me at Kilby Court in Salt Lake City, where I watched your mom sing on the night we … Anyway, I shouldn’t have done that either, pretending I had intel on Ella to convince you to come.
I would have helped you find her though, I promise you that. I’m not like him.’
I think I remember those messages now, alongside so many others from strangers.
How I read them as bullshit and deleted them straight away.
I wonder how I would have reacted if I had gone to meet him, if he’d pointed to the stage Mom sang on, then told me he was my biological father. Would I have given him a chance?
But who knows because that’s not what happened. What really happened is that he drove out to the desert to rescue me with no weapon and not much of a plan. He was brave and stupid and hopeful and unprepared. Just like me.
Brandon looks at me for a moment longer, like he finds it hard to pull away, then turns to my dad. ‘And I owe you an apology.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘I hated you calling me a pedophile on YouTube, I felt disgusted to be given that kind of label. But you were a dad looking out for your kid; I should have recognized that.’
‘Especially now I’ve saved your life, you mean?’
Brandon’s face spreads into a sheepish smile. ‘Yeah, especially now.’ He takes a few steps toward Dad, then holds out his hand. Dad looks at it for a moment, then reaches for it.