“Where is your place?” Grampy got closer.
“I’ll take you there. Let me grab my keys.”
“With all the drinks you’ve had? Don’t even play. You ride with me.” Grampy shoved him out the door.
Blake got in the passenger side and I managed to jump onto the back of the truck as they drove off. “Jesus. Where was Mom staying?” I asked myself as we made our way out of town.
I never knew Mom had a rebellious side. I remember she mentioned it at the funeral, but I guess I’d get to see it first hand. I couldn’t imagine her going after a bad-boy creep who hangs at bars during the day. She was better than that, and she was better than him. I eyed that guy sitting next to Grampy through the back window of the truck. I got bad vibes.
Grampy eventually rolled up to an old rusty trailer near the edge of a forest. I had no idea why this guy lived so far out of town. I don’t know if it was the dark, quiet forest, or the lonely trailer at the end of a sketchy road, but the place wasn’t exactly welcoming.
They both got out of the truck and made their way towards the trailer. There was a broken window patched with a black garbage bag. Classy. Grampy shoved the young man towards it.
“Okay, okay,” the young man said. He let out a breath, and opened the door. “Jayla,” he called. “Your fath—”
I saw Mom come out. Her hair was a mess and she was wearing a dirty grey hoodie.
“I seen you pull up,” she said. “Let’s skip the confrontation.” She looked uninterested in the boy and walked past Grampy towards the truck.
“Well, that’s that,” Grampy said to the boy.
“Wait. Are you going to drive me back to my truck? We left it at the bar.”
“The highway is a twenty-minute walk that way.” Grampy pointed. “You can sober up while getting your hitchhiking thumb ready.”
“Oh, c’mon!”
Grampy laughed and shook his head.
Mom climbed into the passenger seat and sat looking forward, not saying a word. I scrambled up in the back, and noticed when Grampy got in he didn’t say a word either. He put the truck in reverse and backed it onto the dirt road.
“Does that guy hit you?” he finally asked, once we were on the highway.
“What? No. Why would you even ask?”
“I have reason to believe he does. Why would you run away to this dirty, old, beat down trailer and—”
“Dad,” She cut him off. “Blake is a lot of things. But he doesn’t hit me. He never has, and he never will.” Mom gave him a serious look. I could tell she was pissed off that he had even asked.
Grampy shook his head and kept his eyes on the road. “Your mother is worried sick.”
“Why is she always on my back?” Mom shot back. “Because I broke curfew a few times? Because I hang out with Blake too much? All you guys ever do is nag, belittle, and get mad at me over stupid shit.”
“Because we want the best for you!” Grampy spoke over her. “We don’t want you hanging out with that loser—”
“He’s not a loser!”
I cringed when Mom said that. That Blake guy was, in fact, a loser.
“Oh, come on, Jayla. Yes he is. You’ve been living in a pigsty for three days. Why?”
She didn’t reply.
“Are you going to answer me?”
There was nothing.
He sighed loud enough for the entire county to hear.
“I was scared, okay?” Mom finally said. Her frustration turned to weeping. Grampy looked over at her, confused.
“What were you scared of?” he asked.
“Letting you down.” The tears kept coming down.
“Jayla, what’s going on?”
“I’m so sorry, Dad. I am so, so sorry.”
Grampy pulled the truck over on the side of the highway and held Mom’s hand.
“Jayla, what are you sorry about?”
Mom composed herself and finally told him. “Three days ago, I was already freaked out by the time I got home. Then Mom started losing her shit at me. I had to leave. I couldn’t be around her…or you.”
“What were you freaking out about?” Grampy looked concerned.
“Because I’m pregnant.”
My heart felt like it fell a thousand feet and hit concrete.
“What the fuck?!” I yelled. The pieces were falling together. Mom was pregnant in October 2002. I was born in June 2003.
That meant….
That Blake….
Blake Morrison.
Is my father.
This was the man I had been so curious about? I felt overwhelmed, heartbroken, and I was chasing each breath that came after.
Grampy sat there, frozen. Not sure how to react. The tears kept coming from Mom while Grampy’s face read blank.
“Do you hate me? Do you hate me?” she kept asking. “Say something!”
She pushed his arm but nothing came out of him.
“It’s true!” Mom cried. “All I do is let you down. I let everyone down. I am such a fuck-up. I just ruin everything!” She covered her face.
“Shhh.” Grampy held her hand. “You could never let me down.”
He embraced her while she cried into his sweater. He held on tight, resting his head on hers. Grampy hummed over the crying, and the hums eventually drowned out the sobbing.
Clay made everything fade. My heart was racing so fast I felt like I was going to throw up. I screamed as loud as I could, but all I could hear was Grampy’s humming echoing in my head. I kept thinking that I had seen my father, and his name was Blake Morrison. He used to have a trailer just outside of town. That thought kept running through my head.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Chapter 9
My first instinct was to get on the highway and drive to the trailer. I could remember the route Grampy took in the memory.
“Anna, that was years ago,” Clay said from the passenger seat.
“I know,” I said, driving back out onto Main Street. “But I mean, what if it’s still there?” Logically, I knew it was a stupid idea. But I
