Page 21 of The Moment I Knew

“Uh… guys, hold on a sec,” I said. “My friend from student council is calling me. Might be important. I’ll be right back.”

Before anyone could ask questions, I was out of the booth, weaving between tables, trying to look casual as I almost jogged toward the door. I slipped outside, trying to look casual while the cold November air hit my face.

I swiped the button to answer and held the phone up to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, Imogen!” The voice was sugary and annoyingly cheerful, like a cartoon character who had swallowed a bag of sugar. Immediately, my stomach sank. “It’s Hilary! I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time!”

I froze for a second, fumbling with my words. If Hilary was calling me, then something could be really wrong. Like my-dad-is-dead wrong. “Uh… no, I⁠—”

“Oh good!” she chirped. “I just wanted to pass on a message from your dad!”

I frowned, a little heat rising in my chest. “Pass on a… why couldn’t he just text me?”

She laughed, high-pitched and airy, like bells tinkling. “Oh, your dad is so busy, honey. And his mind is all over the place—he’d forget his head if it wasn’t screwed on!”

“So… what’s the message?” I asked, trying to sound patient.

“Oh, Imogen! You are so lucky!” she gushed, the syrupy sweetness practically pouring through the line. “Your dad has a little surprise for you tomorrow! Isn’t that just wonderful?”

I rubbed a hand over my eyes, already frustrated by this call. “Uh… okay.”

“I’ll text you the details of where to meet him after school tomorrow, okay? It’ll be near where he usually picks you up. He’s got a lot of meetings going on, so you’re lucky he can manage this.” She laughed, but I didn’t laugh with her. “But you know how important you are to him. He is just such a good father.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, glaring at the sidewalk as if it were somehow in on her ridiculous energy. Sweet. Sugar-coated. Smothering. Annoying as hell. I could practically picture her fluttering around, pinching her nose at his work shirts, reminding him to comb his hair, counting his coffee cups… all while mooching off him and acting like she’s the reason he’s alive.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice flat. “I’ll be there.”

“Wonderful!” she trilled. “I can’t wait for you to see him! Oh, you’re going to be so surprised!”

Click. She hung up without a goodbye. I shoved the phone into my pocket, my stomach twisting. I leaned against the brick wall, taking a few deep breaths to calm down, like I had to do every time I talked to Hilary. Just a few more weeks, I reminded myself. A few more weeks then I was sure that I could convince my dad to dump her and go back to Mum. I gave myself another minute to calm down, then forced myself to walk back into the diner, sit with my siblings, and pretend like I wasn’t just chatting on the phone with our father’s mistress.

eight

Meeting up with my dad felt an awful lot like a drug deal.

I chewed on my lip and stared down at my phone as I stood on the sidewalk of the plaza, trying to look busy and not suspicious as I waited for him to show up. I was also completely freezing, since I was too paranoid to wear my red coat, which always drew attention. The last thing I needed was for one of my friends to spot me and ask me what I was doing here.

I eyed the Tim Horton’s at the far end of the plaza, wondering if I should go in and buy something to seem less weird while I waited, just as Dad’s silver sedan rolled into the lot.

My shoulders immediately loosened and a smile appeared on my face without me thinking about it. It was like that every time I met up with Dad—the fear of being caught clashing with the happiness of seeing him.

He parked a few spaces down, angled toward the curb this time, and got out almost immediately. No hesitation, unlike me. Right from the first time we’d met up like this, he’d been completely at ease and unconcerned about us being caught. I tried to convince myself it was just because he felt like we weren’t doing anything wrong by spending time together behind Mum’s back, and not because he was used to clandestine meetings. It was everything I could do in my life to ignore the lingering signs of how long the affair had been going on.

“Hey kiddo,” he said as he stepped up, shoving his keys in his pocket. “You been waiting long?”

“Not really,” I lied.

“Good.” He nodded, satisfied, and glanced at my backpack. “How was school?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

I shrugged. We’d already done this exact exchange on Saturday evening, sitting on a bench near the river, him buying me an iced coffee even though it was a cold November day and insisting I needed it “for studying.” He’d asked about my classes then too, had nodded in the same places, made the same sympathetic noises when I mentioned homework and exams.

He gestured toward the car. “You wanna sit for a minute? I’ve got something for you.”

Honestly, I’d been hoping he would want to go into one of the stores since I was freezing out here in just my uniform, but I guess the car would be a good enough second place.