Chapter Thirty-Two Elsie
Chapter Thirty-Two
Elsie
After ditching her mom at the break room, Elsie jogged down the corridor, pausing just long enough for the sliding doors to open out into the parking lot.
Her heart hammered louder than her footsteps.
She’d only offered to get the guitar as an excuse to buy herself time.
The minute she’d seen her grandfather’s pale face and sunken eyes, tears had started building up inside her. Any second now, they would overflow.
Outside, she grabbed the back of an empty rocking chair, hung her head, and dragged in gulps of the muggy evening air.
Even the scent of honeysuckle couldn’t chase away the fear of death.
The whole trip—as well as her life this past year—had been too much to bear.
But the time had come to speak with her mom, and she wouldn’t be able to make it through the conversation if she started out already sobbing her head off.
Part of her wanted to use the keys in her fist to crank up the van and escape.
After all, she had clothes and a cooler full of food.
Eyes on their vehicle, she straightened, pausing only long enough to still another empty rocker from swaying.
Grammie would be proud of her for that. The ritual helped calm the mayhem inside her enough that she could start walking at an even pace.
Maybe that was the point of those superstitions, to force a person to stop and regain focus.
She needed to simply retrieve the guitar and go back inside.
Maybe she would even sing one of her poems she’d put to music as her gift to Ace.
Or ask him about his favorite songs. She wished she’d taken the time in the past to find out those sorts of things, but she’d been so wrapped up in keeping her guitar playing private from her mom. That seemed so silly now.
Rush hour traffic rumbled and honked in the distance.
The first buzz of night bugs swelled from the hedges.
She thumbed the key fob just as an Uber driver pulled away from the entrance.
What a sad state of affairs for the person who had nobody to drive him or her to a hospice center.
A twinge of guilt stirred in her gut over feeling so ungrateful for her relatives.
Grammie had flown toward a hurricane to help Elsie, even when her own life was teetering on the edge of massive loss.
The sedan sped away, revealing a man pulling a small rolling bag, and she had to blink her eyes twice before she registered . . .
“Dad?”
So much for the power of the stilled rocker. She must have kicked the one beside it into motion to have brought this bad mojo into her life.
Seth stopped, then looked over quickly. “Baby girl, it’s so good to see you.”
His bag thunked over the curb as he made long strides toward her. An ambulance pulled out of the emergency bay and tore off down the street. Once the siren faded, she blinked and yep, it was still him. She hadn’t hallucinated from stress.
“Dad, what are you doing here?” She backed up a step, her calves thumping the van bumper.
“I was worried about you after our conversation earlier.” He hauled her in for a quick hug.
His familiar aftershave made her think of happier times getting an extra-large Icee at the gas station . . . while he bought lottery tickets. “How did you get here so fast?”
“I flew.”
“At the last minute?” What a freaking big waste of money. While she and Grammie and her mom were rationing out quarters for the vending machines and eating pimento cheese sandwiches, her dad was living it up.
“I used some of my winnings and caught a direct flight. Of course they only had first class left, but nothing except the best when my girl needs me. I really am worried about you.”
She blinked back those tears welling up again because for the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt like her father cared about her. “I’m sorry to have scared you so much you would abandon your big winning streak.”
He frowned, his forehead crinkling. “Elsie, you’re my number one priority. Even in Biloxi, I was only thinking of how I could help you have a better future. Are you upset because your grandfather’s dying?”
“In part. Yes, I am sad”—she was heartbroken—“about that. But there’s more. I’ve gotten into trouble and I don’t know how to fix it.” The words tumbled out like a ball of yarn falling down the steps.
“Hey, hey, now.” He took her hand and tugged her toward those two empty rockers. “Have you talked to your mother? Or your grandmother?”
“I . . . I’ve tried. But they’re so worried about Ace.” She dropped into the first chair, her throat going tight and the sunset blurring from her tears. “Mom’s losing her father. Grammie’s gonna . . .”
“You’re losing your grandfather. It’s okay to let people support you. Or even just grieve together.” He paused, waiting. Then finally continued, “Are you going to tell me the other part of what’s worrying you?”
The confession caught in her throat, but not in the way it had with her mom. She’d struggled to tell her mother for fear of disappointing her. Now she couldn’t explain to her father because she didn’t trust him. Which sucked. “I’ll figure it out.”
“What if you can’t? Promise me you’ll reach out for help, okay?”
Like how her dad had ever asked for help for his gambling addiction? He was one to preach. “I will talk to Mom or Grammie soon. In fact, Mom and I have just been waiting for a quiet minute.”
Would that even be possible now that her dad had shown up? Her mom would keep her cool over his arrival. But Grammie? She would probably blow a gasket over him swooping in unannounced after all the evacuation work.
Right now, Elsie was Team Grammie.
Seth started his rocker in motion. “Whatever you decide, I know it’ll be for the best. But about college . . . You really should enjoy your senior year. Why rush leaving the nest? I’ll miss you if you’re not home.”
She wanted to take his reasoning at face value, but she’d caught his act before, all full of advice for how she or her mom should live their lives when he had no interest in putting in the effort to help anyone’s dreams come true except his own.
“Dad, the money is mine to go to college,” she said, her voice rising enough that even the guy with a hearing aid four rockers down glanced her way. “If I go to court, there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“Elsie . . .” He paused, twisting his class ring. “You can’t go to college now.”
“You already said that.” Exasperated, she forced her voice to stay softer this time.
“No, I mean you can’t. There’s no money.” He clasped her wrist, his face full of remorse she’d seen dozens of times in the past.
Like when she’d wanted a car after she’d gotten her driver’s license. And when she’d wanted to go on the class field trip to the Florida Keys. Although in hindsight, class trips hadn’t turned out too well for her. “What about my college fund . . . ?”
“Divorce is expensive, splitting assets and setting up a second place to live.”
The truth was so obvious she couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t figured it out already. Some pathetic corner of herself had still been holding on to the hope her father would come through for her, that he would protect her. “You gambled it away.”
Her stomach sank. She could only imagine how many more times her mother had felt this way, facing someone she loved who made excuses for serving his own ends while robbing his family.
“Only some of it,” he rushed to assure her. “The rest went to setting up my new apartment. Then I tried to replace it in Biloxi. I was doing good making some of the money back, but then you called and I dropped everything to come here.”
She wasn’t buying his excuse for an instant.
He’d probably lost the bulk of it ten minutes after he hung up the phone or he’d gotten tossed out of the casino.
Even if he’d been on the best winning streak ever, he hadn’t raked in enough to replenish her college fund.
That he’d stolen from her in the first place.
“So then you spent whatever winnings you have left paying for a bougie hotel and a first-class plane ticket. All show. No substance.”
“Now that’s harsh.” He clamped a hand on his polo shirt, which reminded her too much of that jerk Chester who’d made excuses for his obnoxious son at the wreck.
“That’s not harsh. That’s accurate. Mom put money into that account. My account.” She jabbed a finger on her sternum. “Grammie and Ace even added to it on my birthday and Christmas every year. That was my money. Not yours.”
He put on an air of fake guilt—he’d had plenty of practice. He was almost convincing, except he always threw it off like an itchy sweater the minute he left. “You know I’m sorry.”
“I know that you’re a pathetic loser.”
She pushed out of the rocker and didn’t even bother stopping it from moving. Bad luck had already taken root in her life with a vengeance. She fished the van key out of her pocket to get the guitar, and maybe even to lock herself inside until he left.
For good.
Except the thought of never seeing him again hurt too, and she hated him for that as well.
“Elsie, honey,” her dad called. “Where are you going?”
“To get my guitar,” she shouted.
That answer had been true a few minutes ago. Now it just provided a plausible excuse for her to go to the van. Her fist clenched around the key until it bit into her skin.
Once upon a time, she might have given anything to have her dad’s undivided attention. Now she knew who the real role models were in her family, and she wouldn’t let herself be conned ever again.