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“I’m great.” The words flowed automatically. She’d said them so many times she almost believed them, even though a part of her was wondering why this was happening to her. What had she done to deserve it? She wasn’t perfect, but she wasn’t awful. She recycled. She’d given money to save endangered whales. She hadn’t yelled when Molly had spilled blackcurrant juice on her favorite sweater.
“If you ever want to talk—” He paused. “It doesn’t have to be to me. The hospital gave me the name of someone. A psychologist. I mentioned it a while back and you didn’t want to, but if you change your mind—”
“I haven’t changed my mind.” She couldn’t think of anything more awkward. No way could she tell anyone what was going on in her head. It was just too big. And there was no one she trusted. She couldn’t even write about this on her blog, and she spilled everything there. She called it The Real Teen, and talked about everything from periods to her views on global warming. It was anonymous, and that was so freeing. She wrote things she would never say aloud. Things she could never say to her dad, and things she could never say even to her friends. She’d done it for herself, and had been surprised to quickly gain a following. It had grown at a ridiculous rate, and now people left comments. Sometimes just an OMG I feel the same way, but occasionally a longer reply detailing the issues in her own life and telling Izzy how much her post had helped. It gave her a buzz to know she was helping people. She liked saying things that others were afraid to say. While her friends were posting selfies and talking about clothes and makeup, she talked about the serious stuff. Words had so much power. She didn’t understand how so few people seemed to get that.
She’d already decided she wanted to be a journalist. Not the sort that interviewed celebrities on red carpets about subjects that mattered to no one, but the sort who shone a light into dark corners. She wanted to tell truths and expose lies. She wanted to change the world.
Her father was watching her. “I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t.” She didn’t want him worrying about her. She didn’t want to be a burden.
“We should be talking about college. Maybe we should do a few campus visits.”
She tensed. “There’s plenty of time.” She didn’t tell him she was thinking of not going. She didn’t want to leave the family. “Can we talk about it another time?”
“Sure.” He hesitated. “It’s what your mom would have wanted.”
People didn’t always get what they wanted, did they? Except that, ironically, her mother usually had. Except for dying, of course. That hadn’t been part of her plan.
Her dad picked up the towels again. Izzy had a feeling he was looking for things to do.
“I’ll take these upstairs. Are you sure you want to cook for Flora?”
That was her name?
“I want to cook.” She’d show this woman that they were a close family. That there was no room for anyone else.
There was no way she was going to college. She was going to stay home and get a job so that she could keep an eye on things. Maybe she could monetize her blog or something. Other people did it. People got paid for waving stupid handbags in front of the camera. Why couldn’t she be paid for saying important stuff? People commenting on her blog admitted to things they never said in public. They were talking about things that were real. If she could get her traffic up, that would help. And employers liked people with real life experience.
“Thanks, Izzy.” Her dad reached out one more time to hug her and Izzy moved away. She didn’t trust herself not to crumble.
She saw the pain cross his face and felt her breath catch.
Was she a horrible person?
“Sorry. I need to get on, that’s all. I have to check Molly’s school bag for tomorrow, read to her and then I have an essay to do.”
“I’ll try to persuade her to let me read to her so you can have a break. I know I’m second best, but I’ll give it a go.”
“It’s okay.” She liked to feel needed and Molly’s love was like a balm.
“I’m worried you’re working too hard.”
“I like doing it.” She liked the fact that she was keeping things as normal as possible, even though it was far from the life they’d had. She liked being useful. Needed. Indispensable.
“I appreciate what you’re doing, and I’m pleased you’re going to meet Flora. And I’m not trying to replace Becca. I’m trying to keep living, one day at a time, which is all any of us can do.” He sounded tired. “Fortunately love isn’t finite. You don’t use it all up on one person. It’s like a river that keeps flowing.”
Some rivers dried up. And that was how she felt. She’d cried so much she felt permanently dehydrated. And her dad didn’t know half of what was going on in her head. He didn’t know all the stuff that had happened, and she couldn’t tell him.
“I’m not trying to erase your mother, Izzy. Far from it.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “You don’t think we deserve happiness? You don’t think your mom would have wanted us to be happy?”
Izzy didn’t know the answer to that. Her mother had always been the center of attention, always the star, whether it had been at a party or a school event. Becca Parker lit up every room she entered. People around her were dazzled by her brightness. Izzy had heard her parents described as a “beautiful couple,” and it was true they attracted attention wherever they went, and not just because her mother had always insisted on arriving late and last for everything. It had driven Izzy crazy, but she no longer remembered that. All she remembered was that everyone had paid attention to her mother.
“Everything is cool, but you should be careful.” She said it casually. “She’s probably after your money.”
“You think that’s the only reason a woman would want to be with me?” For the first time since he’d walked into the room, he smiled. “I’m not that bad a judge of character. Relax, Izzy. You’ll like her, and I know she’s going to like you. It’s all going to be fine.”
Seriously? He thought it was going to be fine?
