'You could go see her yourself.' I knew he wouldn't. My
parents weren't enemies, but in my entire life they'd never
been anything like friends.
'Yeah. Yeah, I could do that.' He licked his lips, then
turned to me with a bright, hard grin. 'I don't think she'd
see me, do you?'
'I don't know.' I shrugged. 'Maybe you could just send her flowers.'
The easy way out. He nodded and hunched forward,
looking upward to the hospital building as though he was
trying to pick out which window was hers. Her room was
on the other side, but I didn't mention that.
'Thanks again for the ride,' I said.
'You know, I did love her, Paige. Your mother. I'm sure
she's said otherwise—'
'She's never said, either way.' I shifted, my hand on the
door handle. I wanted to escape this conversation before it
happened, but I didn't get out.
'She hasn't?' My dad looked surprised.
'She never realy talked much about you at al, Dad.'
This didn't make him very happy, and his eyebrows
beetled down. I caught a glint of silver threads in them,
too, against the blond. He sat back in his seat and turned
toward me.
'She had to have said something. I mean…I'm your dad.'
'She never gave me details,' I told him as gently as I
could. 'It realy wasn't my business, was it?'
Not to mention how squicky it would be to hear details
about the affair that had resulted in my birth. I'd known my
whole life who my dad was, and that I only saw him
sometimes. That he had a couple other families more
important than mine, and that he always had more money
that somehow never made its way into my mom's walet
the way it should've. But I hadn't ever asked for details,
the wheres and whys and whens. I'd assumed she loved
him. I'd never considered that he might have loved her.
'I did, though. Love her.' My dad cleared his throat. 'You look like her, Paige. So much now.'
He hadn't seen her in years, and I looked like him, but I
He hadn't seen her in years, and I looked like him, but I
smiled. 'Thanks.'
'She was so beautiful, you wouldn't believe it. She knew
just how to make a cup of coffee, too, my God, that
woman was a wizard.' He drifted into memories, no longer
seeing me.
I wasn't impressed with his recolection. She was pretty
and made good coffee. Nice. What about she was smart,
kind, generous, funny? That she made a wicked meat loaf
and could stretch a budget so thin you could see through it,
but stil come up with the cash for a new pair of sneakers
or a birthday cake.
