“A lot. Are you okay? After everything that happened with Nan?”
She didn’t even know the other half of the story, and I wasn’t about to tell her.
“I think I’ll be fine. Tia helped me a lot when all of it went down. She’s a life saver.”
“Keep that one close.” Mom stuck her cigarette face down into the arm of the chair. “You know, your grandmother said something to me today.”
“Oh, yeah? And what was that?”
“She told me that the only way to let go of the past is to not hide from it. The only way to let go of the past is to face it. To not fear it, not let it bother you anymore. Then I thought about how your grandfather spent so much of his life running. Not from any of us, but from himself. He was never open about any of it. I had to pry his past from him. That man didn’t have an easy life, y’know.”
“I know,” I replied. “I found out some things.”
Mom looked at me. “Like what?”
“He had a sister, didn’t he?”
“He did,” Mom confirmed. “And he loved her so much. He didn’t talk about her often, but she was never far away from his mind. As brave as he was, he was mainly brave about moving forward. He was afraid to dwell on the past, because it hurt him—it hurt him real bad. He hid that part of himself because he was scared, and all he ever wanted to do was be brave.” She let out a breath. “He knew you were brave, and he always wanted you to move forward, even when we were away. He knew there was more out there for you.” She sighed and lit another cigarette. She inhaled and paused for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. “Nan told me the story of him coming to Canada,” she continued. “His mother was already older, and she died of pneumonia shortly after arriving from England. A couple years later, his sister was diagnosed with cancer. Grampy was so young, and they never really told him the details.
“We assumed his father passed away somewhere overseas. He wasn’t the type of man who would abandon his children. Your grandfather never had anything in this world, so he took it into his own hands. When he found out you were named after his sister, he cried. He let it out.”
She smiled at the bittersweet memory. “Aunt Annaka sounded like a strong young woman. I knew you could carry her name. I knew you could do it justice.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.
“He lost everything at such a young age,” she went on. “And the only way he knew how to deal with it was to hide it. He hid his past so deep inside him and it pushed people away. I always thought I’d be different—do better. But I ended up doing the same thing. I also hid a part of myself so deep inside that it pushed you away, Anna.” Mom paused. I could see a tear racing down her cheek. “You just wanted to know about your dad. That’s more than a reasonable request.”
“Mom, we don’t have to—”
“I owe you that, Anna,” Mom cut me off. “Your father. He’s still here. He wasn’t a good man. In fact, your grandfather despised him. So did your grandmother. But I learned he wasn’t a good man the hard way.”
Maybe, I thought, the seeking part was done. Maybe it was my turn to sit and listen, so I kept quiet, waiting for Mom to continue at her pace. From what I’d learned about my dad, he didn’t seem like that great of a guy. I guess my suspicions were now confirmed.
Mom took another drag on her cigarette before she started in on the next part. “He wanted me to move with him to Halifax, then Toronto. He wanted to start a family business. At least, that’s what he told me when I was pregnant with you.” She rolled her eyes. “He was broke, couldn’t keep a job or stable income. I told him I couldn’t rely on that. Not with you on the way. I couldn’t trust it. But he was determined to go. He didn’t have the money to go on his own, so he was relying on me to for money. One night he tried to break into the house. He wanted to steal as much stuff as he could to sell it. Grampy found him outside after he heard a window break. He had armfuls of their belongings, and he was trying to start up the truck that’s now yours.”
I was shocked. He broke into my grandparents’ house and tried to steal Grampy’s truck?
“Grampy went out to confront him, only to be sucker-punched.” Mom shook her head and stubbed out her cigarette. “But it didn’t end there. Your father hated Grampy. He kept punching him over and over and over. I remember I came out screaming at him to stop, but he wouldn’t. He pushed me to the ground when I got close.”
I couldn’t believe it. “What happened?”
“Well, your grandmother came up from behind and hit him so hard on the back of the head that he went limp. Grampy called the police, your father went to jail, and eventually prison. It turned out we weren’t the only ones who had been robbed; he had already stolen a car he was trying to sell, and had broken into Ms. Layton’s shop a week prior. You were born shortly after all that.” She looked at me in anguish. “I carried guilt for so long. Not because of you, but because I trusted someone who hurt the people I love. I trusted someone who hurt me, someone who would eventually let you down. I had to live with that guilt, and I was so ashamed that I buried it deep inside of myself.” She shook her head. “He sent me
