Page 9 of Happy Ending

It’s even more stupid to think he sent a letter—IN TWENTY TWENTY-FIVE—because he couldn’t even be bothered to ask my mom for my number to send me a heart-dropping message like a normal douchebag from this century.

Even worse, the letter is dated January 23, two days before today, meaning he paid extra for priority shipping. So he can pay extra to make sure this emotional bomb gets to me as fast as possible, but couldn’t even scrounge up enough money to pay for child support?

Tears quickly fill my eyes and drop poetically onto the wrinkled paper, which I didn’t realize I had been crumpling in my hands while reading.

My mind races to the future in the hypothetical situation that I did visit him in Maryland or bump into him down South.

Would he expect me to call him dad and run and jump into his arms, screaming that I missed him and was glad he came back into my life?

One thing is for sure: he is not my dad.

Maybe he was for the past nine years while he was away.

Maybe I referred to him as “dad” because I liked how easily the word rolled off my tongue, pretending to be a normal kid who just happened to have a dad she never saw.

Sure, dads leave and abandon their families, but dads don’t barge into your life after years of not giving you or the family they gave up a second thought, boasting about their beautiful new life that was only possible without you.

No, this was Roy. Roy, the man who left his family because love and stability just weren’t exciting enough for him.

Roy, the man who abandoned his only daughter, who already had abandonment issues from her biological parents, but finally felt wanted by him .

Finally found a home with him, until he abandoned her, too.

Shoving the crumpled letter into the drawer of my bedside table, I reach across the bed where I threw my phone. Tears stream down my face as I hurriedly type in Laine’s name, my vision blurred.

The phone rings out, each beep feeling twice as long as usual. When the ringing finally stops, I sniffle into the phone, trying to pull myself together.

“Laine?” I mutter softly.

There’s no response, so I pull the phone away from my ear only to find the blurred call failed screen. Frantically, I click call again, hoping to at least hear it ring out. Instead, the line goes silent, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

16

Laine “L aine, hija, come upstairs!” Mother calls for me at the

top of the steps. I race to the kitchen, tying my hair into a messy bun as I run up the stairs.

At the table, I anxiously spot two bowls of cereal ready and waiting for me, just like the last time my mother tried to sit me down and tell me all the ways she was planning on uprooting my life again.

“Tell me, Laine, have you spoken to Father Robert about getting involved with the youth group?” Mother asks through a mouth full of crunchy Wheat O’s.

“Yes, he says he’s happy to have me, and since I’m a senior, I’ll make for a good mentor to the younger kids.

” I parrot back to her exactly what Father Robert told me.

“Good! I’ve also been speaking with the other moms, and one of them has a son in your grade who’s in the youth group.

I want you to meet him, and he can guide you in this position.

He’s been at Holy Trinity since preschool.

” “Mother, it’s okay. I can handle some kids on my own.

” “It’s not just handling, hija! You’re new to the church and the school.

He knows how things are run.” A smirk grows across her face.

“Plus, he’s a cutie!” I scoff and get up to clean my dish, wanting this conversation to end as soon as possible.

I don’t need a reminder of the future son-in-law I’m potentially robbing my mother of by being with Drew.

“Go shower and wear something nice! We are meeting with him and his mother today.” Mother calls after me as I try to escape to my room.

When I get to my room, I pick up my phone and long-press the side button until the logo contrasts too bright against the black screen.

I’ve been turning my phone off recently to clear my head, and I figured that maybe turning it off and focusing on my art project would also turn off the overbearing thoughts that linger in my head.

Unfortunately, I’ve found that switching off my phone and giving my mind complete silence only amplifies the buzzing of unwanted thoughts.

When the screen lights up, I see a missed call from Drew late last night.

She’s been calling a little extra recently, and I can’t blame her.

I’ve been pulling away right when things were going well.

I can’t say I’m proud of it, or that I’m even doing it on purpose.

And it is true, I have been really busy with Holy Trinity stuff, especially with my mother pushing me into leadership roles in a house I’ve barely taken my shoes off in.

I mean, I just memorized the route to the bathrooms last time we went to mass.

I can’t blame the distance solely on Holy Trinity, though.

I’ve been purposely missing some of her calls and keeping myself busy so I don’t have as much time to be around her.

To get closer to her. To let myself fully love her, even though it may be far too late for that.

But just as I experienced before with her, what is built quickly can be broken just as quickly, and right now our bond feels so sacred.

The more time we spend together, the more chances we have to ruin it.

I can’t take that risk, but I also can’t risk the opposite.

I can’t risk her becoming so much to me that it kills me when we have to inevitably split, and I can’t help it if Holy Trinity gets to us before college does.

I shoot Drew a text asking to meet at the playground later tonight.

I figure I owe her this much at least. It’s not like I don’t want to see her either.

I want to see her so badly. I want to feel her warm skin against mine, and I want her to hold me and tell me everything will work out.

I want to feel like all my problems are small, and time stops like it usually does when I’m with her.

I want to lay my head in her lap and fumble with the itchy grass beside my ear as she runs her fingers through my hair and tells me that neither church nor college could pull us apart.

That we’re stronger than any external force.

I want her to tell me she found a magic stopwatch somewhere that can take us to another dimension, and we can live timelessly there forever, just me and her.

******

People are shuffling around everywhere when we get to Holy Trinity. The band members are polishing their instruments and running cables back and forth in preparation for Saturday mass tonight.

Pastor Robert is jubilantly talking with some mothers in a corner. The children of those mothers are running up and down the stairs of the stage playing what I think is a game of either tag or King of the Hill; I can’t tell.

The sun is shining through the Shaun-The-Sheep-designed stained glass, and the vibrant, colorful rays of light shine directly onto the microphone center stage.

Mother waves over at someone in the distance, and I follow her in that direction, my steps subtle and quick-paced behind hers.