Chapter 46
CHAPTER
brUCE AND MACKENZIE had a fight. A loud one. Circe called an Uber and left the house. She’s seen what Mackenzie posted—Aletheia made sure of it.
We settle on the couch with Sally, her head on my daughter’s lap. I consider powering off my computer and iPad, both Circe’s and my phones, but nothing I’m going to say is a secret.
“Do you think it’s true?” Circe asks.
For the past month my daughter couldn’t stand me, has just started to thaw, and now she’s counting on me to make everything better. Being a mother is a juggling act and freaking hard.
“I mean, maybe someone hacked into Mackenzie’s account,” Circe continues, “made that stuff up? And there was an article in the SF Post.”
“I didn’t know you read that paper?”
“I don’t. Someone anonymously emailed a link to me.”
Aletheia. Fury that she’d hurt Circe like this makes me boil.
Circe frowns. “It was about Mackenzie and how she’s some sort of con artist, and dad … and you. About what a jerk he’s being in the divorce. Dad was crying,” Circe adds. “I’ve never heard him cry.”
I want to be empathetic. But. What I can manage is sympathy for my daughter. She’s always put her dad on a pedestal. He taught her to bike, swim, ski, took her on fun vacations, and was never the one to make rules or say no. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“Is he? A jerk to you?”
Teens can seem so wise and naive at the same time. Does she think I want to live in this crappy apartment? “We don’t agree on my value,” I carefully reply, then change the subject. “What did Mackenzie say?”
“First, she said it was a hacker. She even told Dad it was probably you.”
My eyebrows twitch. “Me?”
“I know. Ridiculous. Dad shot that idea down. Then Mackenzie admitted to it and said that it was all a joke—stuff you write to your BFFs. That they’re jealous, and she was trying to make them feel better about being single while she’s wildly happy and about to marry the man of her dreams like a fairy princess at the stroke of midnight.
” Circe pulls Sally closer. “I don’t think Dad believed her.
And that stuff about an old man? Extortion?
I think Dad might call the wedding off.”
“Maybe they’ll work it out,” I offer.
“Do you want them to?” Circe asks. “I mean, if they break up, you and Dad could get back together.”
As a kid, I used to fantasize that my dad didn’t know about me; that when he found out, he’d search, like Demeter did for Persephone, find Mama J and me in our tent, and have a limousine whisk us away.
We’d live in a house with two floors, eat dinner together every night on real plates, not paper, with metal forks instead of convenience store plastic.
My father would read me stories from books we owned and tuck me into bed in a room with pink walls and new toys.
Every child wants security and an intact family.
I reach for Circe’s hand. “Your dad and me? That’s not going to happen.”
She pulls free. “I get that he was a dick. Men get their heads turned by hot women.”
How does she even know that?
“Deep down Dad’s still a good guy.”
I’m not so sure. “Honey, we’re never getting back together.”
Circe’s chin trembles. “Why not?”
There are so many things I could say, none of them complimentary. “There was a time when I would’ve done anything to make sure we didn’t divorce; that you had us both under one roof. But that wouldn’t be fair.”
“What’s changed?”
Life doesn’t give you anything, Penny. You gotta take what you need.
“I have.” Mama J was wrong to make me steal. But she’s right that when nothing is given, getting what you need is up to you. “Whatever Bruce and Mackenzie decide, you’ll still have two parents that love you and two homes to live in.”
“What if that tax thing is real. If Dad goes to jail?” Circe asks, her voice catching.
“It’s not. He would never risk lying to the government and going to prison.” I keep my voice firm, but inside I’m badly shaken. Aletheia could still make that happen.
“Dad is so sad.” Circe starts to cry. “It’s hard enough that you’re alone. I worry about you all the time. Now Dad will be alone, too.”
Sometimes our children surprise us. I never imagined Circe worried about me. I slide close, pull her into a hug, and she lets me hold her like she did when she was seven and skinned her knee falling off a bike. Back then things were so simple. Butterfly kisses, a bandage, then ice cream.
“Mom, I need to tell you something,” Circe says quietly, “about the naked photo.”
But I already know. She sent it to six boys, at the exact same time. It’s why I didn’t want Aletheia to dig further. Was I afraid of what she’d do to my daughter? Yes. I meet Circe’s gaze. “I already know. But can you help me understand why?”
“Wess liked me first, before Char. But when I wouldn’t, you know, he said I was a baby, and he went after Char.
She had sex with her last boyfriend. Guys talk.
” Circe sniffles. “I thought … I thought if the guys Wess hangs with saw a sexy photo of me, wanted to date me, he’d get jealous and dump Char and choose me.
I’m a horrible friend. What’s wrong with me? ”
When you know better, you do better.
Will Aletheia punish my daughter for this?
I resist the fear threatening to overwhelm me.
Circe hasn’t let me in for a long time. This is too important to mess up, so I focus and choose my words carefully.
“Nothing is wrong with you. We all want to be wanted. It’s the human condition.
Recognizing that need but making different choices based on whether doing something about it is healthy?
That’s part of growing up. So is realizing your worth isn’t tied to boys, friends, anyone.
That it comes from the standards you set, the type of people you choose to befriend, and how you treat others. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah.”
Circe has gray smudges beneath bleary eyes. “Hey, bug, you look kind of tired. Want to lie down for a bit? Sally loves to snuggle.”
“Okay.”
Once Circe has gone to her room, Sally in tow, dread seizes me. How the hell am I going to stop Aletheia?