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“It’s like a five-hundred-dollar Home Depot gift card,” Dale said.
“No, it’s cash. Skippy said someone from City Hall already called him to make sure I show up.”
“We’ll be there. You can count on that,” Brian said. “I’m making burritos for dinner. Beef or bean?”
“Both,” Dale said. “Can I be excused? I need a nap.”
“Go,” Brian said, looking over at me. When she was out of the room, he gently grabbed my arm. “We need to talk.”
“Honestly, I’m talked out. Unless I’m doing something specifically that is bugging you, can you save it? I’ve given myself all the pep talks I can listen to in a day.”
“What resolution did you come to?”
“It’s too late to say anything. The only change that can be made is from me, and I don’t know where to begin except to forgive everyone.”
“You don’t have to forgiveeveryone,” he said. “You grandfather, for instance. That needs to be addressed head on and in front of your parents. No one else really did anything directly to you. They might not have acted on what you said, or they might have discounted it, but he said it right to your face. He’s a jackass.”
“I’m not sure how I’d do it.”
“Go there tonight and make sure Rocko and Margo are there so they can back you up, and just say it out loud. ‘I’d like to clear the air about something so I can move on…’ and then say it.”
It should have been Isabel. Lucy was the gifted one. It should have been Isabel.
For six years, I had avoided my grandfather. I might see him in passing. But we didn’t exchange a word. That seemed like a situation someone would have picked up on.Why isn’t Dad talking to Bella?Orwhy didn’t Grandad go to Bella’s high school graduation, or college graduation or any of the other opportunities since Lucy’s death?
Before I even decided to confront him, I chickened out. The same excuses rang in my ears. What good would it do? I didn’t miss a relationship with my grandfather. I knew my grandmother missed me, but she didn’t go out of her way to see me. She might hold back to keep the peace. That made sense to me.
Back in my bedroom, I grabbed my computer and went directly to Jasmine’s Bra Bazaar on eBay.
Chapter 4
Sunday passed without me answering calls or texts. Flynn tried many times, and I avoided him. It was okay, I rationalized. I didn’t owe him anything.
I called the hospital and left a message for the doctor who had seen me in the ER the night of the accident. She’d be in Monday, and I was assured she’d return my call. I planned on getting my letter and returning to work Monday night.
No one from the family, Margo and Rocko included, tried to contact me after the tree trimming ceremony, which was best to avoid. My mother posted pictures on Facebook, and I lurked on her posts. The caption—the first tree in six years. The family, including my aunts, holding up wine goblets and toasting the tree. It made me sick.
Comments from friends and family abounded:Lucy would have loved it.My heart is with you. Hugs and kisses coming your way. Beautiful family.
After reading several, I blocked my mother. Why did she feel the need to share something so intimate with a bunch of strangers? No one seemed to notice my absence in the pictures, and that made me laugh. I’d achieved my goal of disappearing.
At dusk, I got into my car to take a ride around town. I went past the car wash and, typical for a Sunday evening, it was empty. Workers were gathered around a half-barrel planter with a fake pine tree in it, smoking and drinking Coke. One man recognized my car and waved, shouting, “Yo, Bella!”
I waved back, smiling. This was my milieu. Not the famous plastic surgeon with the wealthy family.
As soon as the thought came to me, I knew it was wrong. Flynn and I had clicked right away. He made me so comfortable. I was looking for excuses to not see him.
After getting a coffee at a drive-through, I pulled into a parking lot that overlooked the Detroit River. A favorite childhood pastime of ours had been watching the ships coming into port. I sat there at dusk, sipping coffee, thinking of Lucy. She was always in my head, but usually not in a good way.
I needed to tell someone. After I’d avoided him all day, Flynn came to mind, and I keyed in his number.
“You’re alive!”
“I am. I’m sorry. I just needed time to regroup.”
“I completely understand. I was worried that you were getting cold feet.”
“Can you talk for a minute? I mean, can you listen? I need to unload.”
