Page 43 of Under My Skin

Chapter Forty-Three

LUCY

Where the hell is that cat? I kneel to search under my bed the second time, thinking I must have missed him somehow, but there’s no Pudge in sight.

An exasperated groan leaves me as I get to my feet.

I don’t have time for this. Last night, I checked every flight search engine I could think to use, but nothing came up unless I want to drive across the state to another airport.

There must be a flight to Denver today. Chances are it’s just full, and if there are any cancellations, I want to be first in line for a ticket out of here.

Using my phone’s flashlight, I check every corner of my closet. It’s not even like there’s a lot of stuff in here after cleaning it out, but I have no doubt he’d be able to still find somewhere to hide.

My phone lights up in my hand with a text from Allison.

Allison:

Did you book your flight?

I’m surprised the phone doesn’t scream out with how tightly my fingers wrap around the screen. Too much is going on at once, and I feel like the smallest push could set me off.

Like not being able to find my fucking cat.

I close the closet, and there’s a light knock on my bedroom door. “Yes?” I say, already sounding out of breath.

The door cracks open, and my mother pokes her head in. “Hey, honey. Do you want some breakfast?”

“I can’t.” I gesture to the empty cat carrier on my bed. “I need to go, but I can’t find Pudge.”

My mom offers a faint smile. “Oh, your father has him on the couch. I guess he was scratching at the door this morning while you were asleep.” Her face falls. “Wait, you’re leaving? When?”

Since when does Pudge love other people? “Right now,” I say as I gather my things. “I need to go to the airport and see if I can catch a flight.”

Her eyebrows pinch, and she’s already covered in paint this morning. Or maybe they’re old paint stains. It’s hard to tell at this point. I’m sure everything she owns has the mark of an artist somewhere. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” I answer without thinking. Then my shoulders sag, and I shake my head.

“No.” I might be angry with her, but she’s still my mom, and something about her asking if I’m okay has my eyes burning.

I bite the inside of my cheek to try to keep the tears at bay, but there’s no use, especially when she rushes forward and wraps her arms around me.

“What is it? You can tell me.”

Her voice floods me with comfort, and as much as I want to keep our secrets tit for tat, I cave.

“My roommate accidentally set my apartment on fire, and I have to go home to see how bad it is. Allison and Dina shouldn’t have to deal with it.

I still haven’t found a new apartment. Simon is pissed at me, and Everett—” I pull away from her and look down at my phone.

“Shit, I forgot to text him.” Unlocking my phone, I go to his message from last night and quickly respond.

Everett:

Are you okay?

Lucy:

Not exactly. Just overwhelmed. I have to go back to CO.

As soon as I look back at my mother, she takes a deep breath for me. “Okay. That’s a lot.” She takes my bag and the empty cat carrier out of my hands and sets them gently on my bed. “Let’s get you something to eat, and we’ll figure this out.”

But I don’t want to eat. I want to take action. I need to do something to check off one box of chaos at a time, and getting to the airport feels like the most important thing right now. “I really need to get home,” I protest, but she grabs me by the hand and guides me toward the hall.

“Family first,” she says simply, but I don’t understand why. My only issue involving family is Simon, and I don’t think he’s ready to talk to me.

As we head downstairs, I see that she was right about one thing. Pudge is literally curled up under my father’s arm on the couch as he gets some work done on his laptop. At the sound of our footsteps, they both look up at us, my father smiles, and the cat doesn’t even have the sense to look sorry.

“We need to call Simon,” my mother says to my father, and his face falls slightly.

“What? Why?” He shuts his computer and scratches Pudge behind the ears like it’s a nervous tick.

“Lucy needs something to eat, and then she’s going to the airport. She has to get back to her apartment to take care of something.”

“Oh.” My dad swallows. “Well, okay. I’ll give him a call. He’s working, though. Isn’t he?”

“Well, if you’d like him to be here, I suggest you call him sooner than later.” It’s the first time I’ve heard a level of coolness in my mother’s tone, and my eyes dart between the two of them.

“Right.” My father nods and gets to his feet. Looking at me, he adds, “I’ll be right back,” with a weak smile before excusing himself to the downstairs guest room.

My eyes stay locked on the closed door for another beat before I turn to my mother. “You guys are being weird.”

“Yeah, well,” she says without finishing her thought. “So, what will it be? French toast? Scrambled eggs? A bagel?”

“Whatever’s easy.” I point a thumb over my shoulder. “Why did dad go into the other room to call Simon?”

She sighs. “I don’t know. Your father has been dealing with some things lately. I think he wants to talk to both of you about it.”

My heart stutters in my chest. “In person?” It has to be something bad if he feels the need to sit both of us down. Is he sick? And if he is, how bad is it? How much time do we have? I hug my arms around my torso, but it doesn’t help me feel any more secure.

Mom shrugs. “It’s what he wants.”

Before I can ask a follow up question, my father walks out from the room he’s been using as his own. “Simon said he’ll be here in five.”

I study my father a little more closely.

I think he looks the same as he did the last time I saw him, but it’s been a few months.

Has he lost weight? Is his hair thinning?

Does he look frailer than I remember? I’m pretty sure the answer to all three are no, but maybe it’s just my mind playing tricks on me.

I’ve been preoccupied lately. Everything with the divorce, Everett, and my charred apartment has me in overload.

It’s possible I’m just overlooking something.

Shit. The divorce.

Is my mom leaving him when there’s something wrong with his health? I look back at my mother, seeming perfectly content as she whisks eggs in a bowl. I don’t think she’d leave him when he needs her most. None of this makes any sense.

I sit in silence, trying and failing to piece together what’s going on. By the time my mother sets a plate of French toast in front of me, I barely have time to register that it has strawberry eyes and a banana smile before Simon walks through the door.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Simon calls from the entryway.

He walks into the kitchen, and as soon as his eyes fall on me, his face hardens.

I’m not sure why he’s surprised. If I didn’t sleep at his apartment, where else would I have slept other than here?

He looks from me to my parents, the edge of his features softening into uncertainty. “Uh, you guys wanted me to come here?”

“Here,” my mother says as she sets a plate down in front of the empty seat next to me. “Have some French toast.”

Simon slowly sinks into the barstool on my left. “Thanks?”

I stare at my brother because we’re supposed to be allies in this situation.

We’re both about to get news dropped on us, and whatever it is, we’re supposed to be able to rely on each other to get through it.

He won’t acknowledge me, though. Instead of looking my way, he just digs into his breakfast. “I have to get back to work, so what’s this about? ”

My dad comes to stand by my mother in the kitchen, and Pudge does figure eights at his feet. Letting out a sigh, he bends down to pick up my cat. “I know. I’m sorry to ask you to come over like this, but Lucy has to get home.”

Simon finally gives me a sideways glance but doesn’t say anything about my early departure.

My phone lights up on the counter in front of me.

Allison:

Are you not answering because you’re on a plane?

Right. I forgot to text her back, too. My answering record hasn’t been great lately.

“As you both know, we’ve decided to get a divorce.”

Abandoning my phone, I lock my eyes onto my parents.

“You guys don’t owe us an explanation,” Simon says between shoveling bites of French toast into his mouth .

I give him an incredulous look. Of course they owe us an explanation.

“No, no. We do. I can see how this might seem like it’s coming out of left field. Plus, you kids are bound to find out eventually, and I’d rather be the one to tell you.”

I look between him and my mother. “Tell us what?”

My mom tilts her head. “That we got married under some . . . unconventional circumstances.”

“Leslie,” my dad practically scolds.

“What?” Mom asks with a shrug. “It’s true.”

I frown, my breakfast sitting untouched in front of me. “What do you mean?”

My father pinches the bridge of his nose. “You two know how strict Grammy and Papa were when I was growing up. You’ve heard the stories.”

“Yeah. It’s why you never took us to church,” Simon says casually.

“We took you to church,” my mother says defensively.

Simon rolls his eyes. “I don’t think a couple of Easter egg hunts count.”

“What does them being strict have to do with anything?” I ask, determined to get us back on track.

My father starts to pet Pudge at a faster rate.

Even Pudge looks mildly put off by the anxious strokes.

It only takes a few seconds for him to get fed up and jump down with a disgruntled meow.

I’ve been holding on to so much anger toward my parents for not being upfront about this, but now that they’re actually trying to talk about it, I feel bad for them.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad look so uncomfortable.

“Because,” he says, wiping a hand over his mouth.

“I knew they wouldn’t accept me for who I was—” He clears his throat. “Who I am.”

Simon stops chewing.

Time stops, and it feels like I’m seeing my parents clearly for the first time.

I guess that’s because I am seeing them clearly for the first time.

They’ve never been overly affectionate, but the love between them was so strong, I never thought twice about it.

They’ve always said the key to a happy marriage was to marry your best friend .

. . and that’s what they undoubtedly are—best friends.

My father takes in our blank stares and fidgets with his finger where his wedding ring once was, like if his impulse is to twist it back and forth even though it’s not there anymore.

“I’m sorry to keep this from you for so long.

I’ve just been having a hard time with all the change.

It’s something I’ve kept hidden for so long, saying the truth out loud is terrifying just as much as it is liberating.

” He rubs the back of his neck and offers a half-hearted smile.

The hard drive of my brain feels like it just got water on it. It’s still trying to function even though nothing will connect.

Simon blinks and finally swallows his bite. Looking at my mom, he asks, “And you knew? When you two got married, you knew he was gay?”

I gape at my brother. He’s just going to come out and say it?

“Oh, of course.” Mom says, giving him a reassuring smile. “I wasn’t tricked into anything.” With a laugh, she looks at my father. “Could you imagine?”

He smiles at her, and there’s so much warmth behind it. It’s the same way I’ve seen him look at her countless times. There’s no doubt that he adores her. I guess it’s just not in the way I thought he did.

“Why now?” I ask, finally remembering how to speak. “After all these years.”

My mother cuts in. “We agreed to get married because he was feeling intense pressure from his family, and we both wanted children. I was getting older and pretty much wanted to swear off men after my dating history, so it worked out.” She pauses to take in the sight of my brother and me sitting in front of her.

“But now you two are all grown up with your own lives, and I think it’s about time your dad finds a different type of happiness. ”

“And what about you?” I ask, suddenly more worried about my mother being lonely than anything else.

She waves off my concern. “Oh, I’ll be fine. I have my art, and I’ll still have my family. Things will just look a little different, and that’s okay.”

I nod dumbly, only vaguely processing her words.

They’re both . . . fine. No one is sick or dying.

No one betrayed anyone. They aren’t liars, at least not with malicious intent.

They’re fine. Their marriage is ending .

. . but they’ll still look out for each other, and they’ll be okay.

As sad as I am for the end of this chapter, it can’t compare to the ache in my chest at the thought of my dad having to change who he is for the sake of other people.

No one should have to hide who they are, especially from their family.

Simon stares down at his plate with his eyebrows pulled together.

I have no idea what he’s thinking, but if he’s not going to say something, I guess I need to.

“Thanks for telling us,” I say, my voice small.

I get up from my seat and walk around the countertop and give my father a hug.

It’s been a while since I’ve hugged him without it being part of a greeting or saying goodbye.

I just stand there, in the middle of the kitchen, with my arms wrapped around him.

It breaks my heart to think he didn’t feel accepted for such a large part of his life.

I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have felt like.

“I’m sorry,” I say, still keeping my head pressed to his chest.

He pets the top of my head and lets out a chuckle. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for, Lulu.”

There is, though. I’ve been so angry with him, and all he needed was a little more time. Instead of saying anything, I squeeze him tighter and hope he understands how much I mean my apology.

“Is that why you like Judy Garland so much?” Simon asks, and I roll my eyes as I break away from my father.

My mother laughs and so does my dad. A light laugh even gets pulled from me, and for a moment, everything feels incredibly normal. At least, until there’s a knock at the door.