“I got my period.”
I sank into the armchair then, relieved. “Izz, that’s great. That’swonderful. Congratulations!”
“It’s not wonderful. You’re not here.”
“I know, honey, I’m sorry. But we thought there was a good chance it was going to happen this summer when you were in Maine anyway.” This was me trying to deflect the fact that I was an absentee mother out gallivanting in the South of France with rock stars while my daughter was experiencing her first true coming-of-age milestone. I sucked.
She was quiet for a moment. I was staring out at the lawn, the long drive winding down the hill, so much green.
“It got on the sheets,” she whispered.
“It’s okay, you can wash them. Use cold water. But do it now, okay. Don’t wait.”
“And I don’t have any, like, stuff here.”
“We’ll take care of that. Where’s Daddy?”
“He’s out running.”
“All right. He can swing by the drugstore before work.”
“I’m nottelling him.”
I could feel her getting worked up again over the phone. “Isabelle, he’s your father.”
“He’s aguy.”
I smiled at that, looking over into the alcove. A guitar case was propped up against the far wall. Hayes was in the same position on the daybed, eyes closed. I wasn’t sure if he was sleeping or just lying very still, listening. “Honey, he’s your dad. He’s not just aguy. I promise.”
“No, I’m not telling him.” She paused. “Youtell him.”
“Okay, I’ll tell him—”
“No, don’t tell him.”
I laughed. “Where’s Eva?”
“In the shower, I think.”
I hated going this route. I hated knowing that she would be the one to hug her first, to share knowing looks and nudges and traipse with her through the aisles of CVS in search of Always with Wings. Like some chummy big sister or cool aunt and not the intellectual property tramp who was fucking her father. But it was not to be avoided.
“Do you feel comfortable talking to Eva?” I asked.
She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess…”
“She’s not a guy.”
“She’s not my mom.”
That hurt and felt good at the same time. “I’m sorry I’m not there, Izz. Truly. I’m sorry. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Hurry up and come home, okay?”
Just then a black Range Rover came pulling up the drive followed by two smaller cars. Simon and Liam were back. The thought arose that maybe they could see into this window.
“I’ll see you Thursday, in Boston. And we’ll celebrate. Promise.”
“Okay,” she sighed. “Have fun. Don’t work too hard.”
