Page 57

My mouth fell open.What?She was serious?

“It’s an esteemed award, I know. But I think you truly have a shot here,” she said. “It doesn’t hurt to try.”

I don’t know why, but it felt like she was handing me a lifeline that day. Another sliver of hope in a world opening itself up to me. It meant a lot, just that she’d thought my pictures were that good.

So I nodded, a smile pulling at the edges of my lips, and filled out the papers she’d handed me.

I was a little high in the clouds when I walked through the front doors of my dad’s house after school that day. He was finishing up a call in the kitchen, his deep and steady voice traveling through the walls. I went to make my way upstairs but paused, turning on my heel and walking into the kitchen on a split-second decision instead.

I sat down at the table directly across from him and cleared my throat.Now or never, Jess,I swallowed. “I’d like to take you up on your offer…for counseling…if it’s still on the table,” I said, my heart racing a mile a minute.

He slowly slid his glasses down his nose and set them on the table in front of him. I hadn’t noticed before, how alike we looked. Our dark hair and dark eyes, the small freckles over the bridges of our noses. The features of my own face I could see in his older, worn ones. I guess it was the first time I’d actually taken the time to truly look at him.

And in that moment, he seemed…relieved.“Of course,” he said. “Of course it is. I’ll call and make an appointment for you right now.”

I could’ve left it at that, said mythank youand walked away; at the time, I probably thought that I should’ve. But I still found myself asking him, “Was Mom always like that…an addict? When you knew her? When you guys were…together?” I realized that I didn’t even know if they everhadbeen together. How sad was that?

But my mom didn’t talk about much of anything of importance with me, and especially not the topic of my father. I’d learned a long time ago to drop the subject of him altogether. So, I honestly didn’t know what their story looked like.

Had my dad been an addict too, at some point? And this was some old, sad and worn tale of two junkies who got together and accidentally had me? Or did he know a version of my mom I never knew? A sober version of her I’d imagined so many times but had never once truly seen?I honestly couldn’t picture it.

He took a long time to answer me, long enough that I found myself fidgeting in my chair, uncomfortable that I had asked in the first place.

But then he took in a deep lungful of air, squeezing the space between his neck and shoulder with one hand as he looked me in the eyes. “We grew up together—your mother and me. So, no. She wasn’t always an addict. But we both…grew up in our own difficult situations. Your mother had a lot to be angry about; we both did…

“I’m not proud to tell you that we both ended up in the wrong crowd together, trying idiotic things we never should’ve been touching at any age, let alone at fifteen-years-old, to try and numb ourselves.

“We made some terrible, irreversible choices, and not a day goes by that I don’t feel partially to blame for what happened to your mother. And to you.” His eyes glistened with genuine emotion as he looked at me, as we sat across the table from each other and held the first conversation we’d had in seventeen years.

Way to dive right in, Jess.But was there an easier way to do this? I didn’t think there was.

“I didn’t know about you, Jessica,” he said carefully. “Not until the day she passed away.” He shook his head. “…I didn’t know.”

I believed him. I could see it in his eyes, in the hurt that bled through them. I could feel it in the way he grasped my hand and held onto it firmly, unwilling to let go.

And if I’d had any tears left to cry that day, I know I would have.

Forty-nine Before

“WE NEED TOget a dress stat,” Jaymes said, plopping down next to me in the grassy quad after stealing a bite of my burrito.

I rolled my eyes, pulling said burrito out of reach. “For what?” With Jaymes, who knew what he was about to say. I could imagine any number of things coming out of his mouth next:So we can strap it on a mannequin and throw it in the ocean and watch people panic.

For me, duh…I’m going to wear it to church this Sunday and ask to be baptized. See how many people freak and start praying for me.

A fishing net. A floatation device. A parachute.

Any of these things would have been fathomable in his mind, I’m sure, but instead, he said, “The dress is for you. We’re going to prom.” He looked so sure of himself—and that statement—that it made me laugh.

“Ha. Funny. No we’re not,” I countered, shaking my head and effectively wiping the smug grin from his face.

“Aww, don’t be like that, babe.” He turned me to face him, the knees of our crossed legs touching. “Picture it.” He swept his palm through the air between us before reaching down and clasping his hands around my knees. “Booze. Grinding up on each other.” He pulled me closer with a wicked grin. “You know, the superficial high-school right-of-passage we can’t allow ourselves to miss.”

I honestly couldn’t tell if he was joking. Especially when he looked at me like he was dead serious. But his dark eyes still twinkled with mischief.

I shoved his arm and laughed once under my breath. “Not that I think you’re serious…But I’m okay with missing out. Honestly. Besides, there’s always next year if I change my mind.”

“Yeah, for you!” he shouted with an insufferable smile. “And I’m fucking serious. I won’t let you rob me of this, Jess. These aremymemories you’re messing with, and besides, you’re my girlfriend.” He shrugged. “You’re obligated. The second you agreed to be my girlfriend, you agreed to this, so you might as well give in to me now.”