As I wrap my arms around her and say, “Me too, Mom,” the metaphoric pieces of the puzzle come into view, like pieces in Tetris, falling and fitting. “Mom?”
She looks at mewith glassy eyes.
“Did Craig and Serena ever travel to Marquette?”
“I don’t know. I think sometimes for the holidays.”
The end of November is Thanksgiving.
“Thank you, Jillian, for not saying anything. Blue Gil has moved on. It’s time we do too.”
Chapter
Forty-Four
Seven months later
I siton the balcony of my new apartment. After I returned to California last summer, I needed a change. With the help of the studio, I moved closer to Burbank. Now, in Santa Monica, the Pacific Ocean glows in the distance as strands of my long hair float around my face. The February scene is drastically different than that back in Blue Gil. There was snow on the ground when I went home this year for Christmas. It felt right.
It was like Mom said, each trip is easier. She even shared the special ingredient of her chicken salad—a tablespoon of brown sugar.
That tidbit is an easier secret to carry.
I take a sip of my lemonade. Hitting send on mylaptop, I return the last edits to Liam with the specifics for the final scene in an upcoming episode, the one that has been giving us fits.
It’s funny how the saying is true: time does heal.
It heals physically and mentally.
I’ve kept my word to avoid blackouts. I haven’t consumed a drop of alcohol since the night of my attack. I’m still seeing my counselor once a week. She’s now on my short list of people who know most of my secrets. I told her everything about Craig, our baby, and Keith. I even told her about my family and about my sister and the game she may have been playing.
The one secret I haven’t told: who hit Craig that foggy morning.
I’ll never share that.
The counselor suggested that perhaps it is the prospect of Julie and her harem’s game as to why I don’t feel close to my youngest sister. A relationship that meant something to me was possibly nothing to her. As Liv said, Julie wasn’t Craig’s conquest. He was hers. Maybe one day, Julie and I will talk and set the record straight. I don’t think either one of us is ready for that.
She’s a freshman at KVCC. Mom said she’s starting to talk about Michigan State next fall.
Thankfully, I heard back from the attorney in Los Angeles, the one who facilitated the adoption. He not only assured me that my son and his family are safe, but after he contacted them, the parents agreed to send him quarterly updates.
My refrigerator is now covered with photographs.
They named my baby Ellis. He has Craig’s soft brown eyes and my red hair. At six years old, he has an infectious smile, one that is missing both of his top front teeth. I’m waiting patiently for an update when his front teeth will be present, seemingly too large for his grin.
Ellis’s interests include baseball and video games.
I know I have no right to an opinion, but I hope he avoids football.
The sound of my phone beckons me back inside my apartment. The name on the screen isLiam. At the same time, the security pad near my door indicates a visitor.
I hit the green icon on my phone. “What did we miss?” I ask in lieu of a greeting as I simultaneously hit the button to unlock the lower entry. I’m expecting a dinner delivery.
“Jill, have you checked the latest wire?”
The production company receives direct news bulletins that could later become an episode. Give us kidnapping, homicide, or any other crime, and we will do our best to make it entertainment.
“No, I’ve been concentrating on the episode we were discussing. And I’m about to eat.” I do a little dance that only I can see. “I ordered Fritto Misto.” Despite the restaurant’s unassuming appearance, their Italian food is some of the best, better than restaurants with much higher price tags.
