I don’t always trust Dante to do the right thing—if I did, I wouldn’t be here right now. But I can’t imagine him ever doing something like what my father did to my mom.
“No,” I say firmly. “Things between us, in that way, have always been…consensual. Maybe not loving, at least not in the beginning. But toward the end, there was love. I’m sure of it.”
“I’m so glad.”
My mother wraps me in a tight hug. I hesitate for a moment before lightly hugging her back. I can’t remember the last time she spoke to me like this. Or held me.
“But I still wish I could punch Dante right in the nose for you,” she goes on.
That gets a weak laugh out of me. “Me, too.”
“I know I wasn’t around to say it, but I do love you. And your sisters.” She squeezes me tighter. This time, I lean into it.
“I think on some level, I knew you did. That was what made you leaving so much worse.”
She just holds me close, as if she can put me back together through sheer force of will.
And maybe herself, too.
5
Frankie
Someone is breathing heavilyin my ear.
I sit upright, heart racing at the unexpected sound, when I realize it’s just Miggy with his head resting on the side of the bed, staring at me.
“Go away, dog breath,” I tell him.
He, of course, doesn’t listen—just gives me eyes of love. And all right, fine, heisfreaking adorable. Still doesn’t mean I want him waking me up with his foul panting in my face.
Groggy, I flop back down onto the pillows. Miggy. I turn my head and stare into the dog’s brown eyes. Miggy…where have I heard that before? Charlie, Frankie, Livvie…Miggy.
Huh.
The more I try to catch the thread, the faster it slips away, and then whatever thought I’m trying to form quickly disappears as the first wave of morning sickness hits me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to will the nausea away. I’m underslept, mentally drained, and not a single part of me aside from my stomach wants to get up right now, even though my alarm is going to go off soon anyway. My mother’s confession kept playing in my head long after I’d gone to bed last night, and it took me forever to fall asleep as I skated through an obstacle course of emotions, most of them heated and pointed in my father’s direction.
Bile rises in my throat, and I have no choice but to leap off the bed. I nearly stumble over the dog, who runs after me as I hurry into the hall. A familiar clench bands beneath my ribs and I barely make it to the bathroom before my first puke of the day.
Yay. Just how I like to start my morning.
I hear my cell phone alarm go off in my bedroom and I groan. Time to get ready for work—the last thing I want to do today.
I manage to wash my face, brush my teeth, and throw my hair into a ponytail while expending as little energy as possible. It’s going to take all my willpower to get through my shift. Lack of sleep and the mental load of my father’s nastiness are not mixing well with my pregnancy hormones.
There’s a note from my mother on the kitchen table along with an odd-looking fruit that resembles a small, light orange tomato.
Persimmons helped me when I was pregnant with you girls. Careful though, Miggy likes—
Before I can finish reading, the dog snatches the persimmon from my fingers and chomps it in half, quickly wolfing it down in two bites. Stupid dog. But he looks so damned pleased with himself that I can’t help laughing at him.
Oh well. Might as well barf up a banana as a persimmon.
Along with the banana, I bag up a sleeve of saltine crackers and a bottle of water for my drive to work. Breakfast of champions. Then I put Miggy in his crate and quickly slip into my polyester waitress outfit and clunky white tennis shoes.
I swear, I’ll never get used to the heat here. Within minutes, the uniform is sticking to my skin. My feet sweat and the hairline at the base of my neck is getting damp. Despite the air conditioning in the apartment, I constantly feel like I’m sweltering. I don’t know how anybody chooses to live here long term. Then again, I’ve probably been spoiled by Northern California.
