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“What was his reaction?”
“He was mad at me, of course!” She shakes her head. “He does love you and your brother, but he doesn’t have a healthy way of demonstrating love. I’d like to say your mother’s stroke was the reason, but he was never an emotionally giving person.” Janelle looks over to me to gauge my reaction when she says, “I gave him a picture of Ethan before I left just now. It pissed me off that he hasn’t ask about him in all this time.” She lets out a cheerless laugh. “I guess I have a flair for the dramatic…Handed the picture to him and said, ‘Just in case you’ve been wondering about your grandson. He’s healthy and doing well, by the way. And Charlotte’s a great mother to him.’ I added, ‘You raised her well,’ just to stick it to him.”
“You’re badass, Janelle.”
“Damn straight.” She turns to me again. “You’re not mad I gave him a picture of Ethan, are you?” When I shake my head, she lets out a relieved breath. “Now where are we heading? I hope there’s a DQ in this backwards town.”
“There is, but you’re bringing my cone out to the car. I want to stop by a few of my old haunts, not walk into an impromptu reunion.”
We drive by my house, even though no one is home. I don’t even know why I want to see it. Looking at the flaking paint and the dead flower beds makes my father’s stiff hug and Christian’s cold reception cut even deeper.I don’t care, I don’t care. I’ve been repeating the words to myself the entire ride over here, knowing the need to say the words is proof that I’m lying.
Next stop is Daisy’s. She lives just a few blocks over. There are no cars in the driveway and the mailbox is stuffed with flyers, envelopes and magazines keeping it propped open. Was I planning to knock on the door if someone was home? I’m not sure. I want to know how she’s been, who she went to prom with, where she’s going to school. I want to know if she’s still close with Sarah. I hope she is. I hope Sarah is the friend Daisy always deserved. I miss her. I wonder if she ever thinks about me.
Janelle sits quietly as we make our way over to the other side of town. I pass the turn off for the dirt road that used to take me and Simon down to our secret spot by the river. I pass Tyler’s trailer, speeding up slightly when I see the door open and Tyler steps out onto the landing with some girl who is not Skylar. I have to remind myself that it’s been nearly two years—things change. I slow to a stop when we approach Simon’s trailer, pulling over a good twenty feet away.
“Who lives here?”
“Simon.” I correct myself. “He used to live here.”
Should I knock? Say hello to his mother? I won’t tell her. I’ll just make like I’m passing through town. Just ask her to tell Simon I said hello the next time she talks to him.
“Just give me a minute,” I say as I go to let myself out of the car. I’m not kidding myself. I’m knocking on his mother’s door in the hopes that I’ll get something, some nugget of information. Wondering about what he’s been up to and who he’s with has been gnawing at me since the day he left. It’s too tempting. I can’t leave without at least trying. But as I go to close the car door behind me, a man and a young child step out. A woman with a swollen belly follows. I take in the scene, noticing for the first time how different it all looks. Trash bags are piled up on the side of the trailer with gaping holes in them, proof that the local raccoons are being well fed. A bent and discarded screen lies in the dirt below the window. The wreath that used to hang on the door is gone.
“Excuse me…I’m looking for Mrs. Wade. Does she still live here?”
He doesn’t answer, just eyes me with suspicion. His woman pipes up, “I’ve never heard of her. We moved in this past winter.”
I smile at her and then smile at her surly man, hoping to soften him, willing him to be kind to his child and to her. “Thank you. You have a nice day.”
She gives her man a cautious glance and then smiles back at me. “You too now.”
It’s ridiculous, feeling sad for this pregnant woman, someone I’ve never laid eyes on before today. Maybe I see myself in her, see my personal worst case scenario. But no, even if I’d told Simon, even if he was trapped here and life became only work and raising Ethan with me, I could never see him turning into a version of that man. Poverty never defined Simon. His quiet dignity was one of the many things I admired about him.
Pulling into the DQ parking lot, I tell Janelle not to get me anything. My eyes follow as she walks inside and orders at the counter. I don’t recognize the girl at the register, who looks to be no more than fourteen. And Janelle is the only customer. I came here telling myself that I didn’t want to be spotted, but now feel an overwhelming sense of disappointment.
I am invisible, a ghost wandering through the streets of my hometown. It’s as if I fell off the face of the earth and no one cared to ask why. Deep down, I was hoping for someone, for Daisy or Garth or Sienna to see me, to press me for details about my life. To grab me in a bear hug and ask:Where have you been, girl? We’ve missed you!I’d hug them back, no matter who it was, happy for any link to my past. Then I’d give them the heading off to college highlights, not the baby with a congenital heart condition tale of woe. And voilà, the people of this town would know that I still exist. Maybe someone would get word to Simon. Tell him where I was going to school, give him something to go on. Give him a way to find me.
Sulking, I text Janelle to get me a chocolate dipped cone, needing to drown my sorrows in some ice cream now that I’ve fully acknowledged what this trip was all about. And if connecting with Simon in a cowardly, through the grapevine-kind of way truly was my end game, I didn’t accomplish a damn thing.
* * *
Simon
Our bodies don’t line up the right way. It’s a petty observation I make nearly every time I’m with Diana. It’s the weirdest relationship and it endures. I have no real feelings for her, and I don’t get the impression that I’m anything more to her than someone to each lunch with and occasionally fuck.
I haven’t tried to go deeper with her, and she’s never once asked about my past or my dreams for the future. I used to think it was exactly what I wanted, but it feels crappy. The just sex-thing serves an obvious purpose but it’s not truly pleasurable.
Samantha looks on with an amused expression every time the three of us share the same space. She plays the role offriend who just happens to be a girlvery well, but it’s just that, an act. She’s biding her time, subtly persuading me with her beauty and goodness, just waiting for that day when I wake up and knock myself upside the head.Gee whiz, Samantha...You’re the one I wanted all along! How could I have been so blind?
After the concert, I took Samantha to an all-night diner and I was brutally honest with her. I know she has feelings for me and said as much. She didn’t contradict me. I didn’t want to hurt her. I wanted her to understand. So I told Samantha everything. Told her about my childhood, told her about Timmy, told her about Charlotte. Everything. Told her what I did, how I left. Told her I’m still in love with Charlotte.
“Can I see a picture?” she asked. I lied and told her I didn’t have one. Samantha’s one fault is the high opinion she holds of herself. I’m all for confidence, but it’s obvious that Samantha sees herself as a cut above the company. I didn’t want Malibu Barbie comparing herself to my girl.
It always made me sad, the way Charlotte saw herself as a plain Jane when nothing could be further from the truth. Is it just something you go through when you’re still figuring things out? When you’re young? The kind of confidence Samantha carries herself with, does it come with age? I wonder how Charlotte sees herself now.
I study the picture. The one I went to the trouble of printing out at the drugstore before I traded in my phone. It’s a selfie, the two of us sitting on the tailgate of my truck. We were just out of the water, Charlotte in her bikini. Her face is turned. She’s looking up at me and smiling. How could anyone see anything but the most beautiful girl on the planet in this picture?
Where is she now? I haven’t spoken to Garth since his wedding, when I called to congratulate him. I told myself that I wouldn’t but then caved in and asked about her. He had nothing new to report. There have been a few times I’ve broken down and seriously considered calling her father, but I know it wouldn’t get me anywhere. And I know I wouldn’t be doing it for her benefit. It would be selfish on my part.
