Ex and the Single Girl (35 page)

“
Stay out of it.”
I leveled my eyes on her. Her hand, which was about to touch my arm, froze in midair.

“
Excuse me?”
she said, lowering her hand slowly. If I had been in any other state of mind, I would have crumbled under her iron s
tare. As it was, I took a step closer to her.

“
This is none of your business, Grandma.”
Bev
’
s eyes flashed. I knew they would. “
That
’
s what you are, right? Why the hell do I call you Bev, anyway?”

“
Because that
’
s my name.”

“
Because you didn
’
t want to be a grandmother. Or a mother.

You wanted everything to be a good time, like were all a bunch of buddies. Well, you know what? I didn
’
t need a buddy. I needed a grandmother.”
I turned my focus on Mags, who hadn
’
t moved an inch. “
I needed a mother
.”

I pulled the cardigan away from my shoulders and gripped it in my fingers, staring at the vibrant red for a moment before handing it to Mags.

“
You never told me he wanted a relationship with me.”
She raised her eyes to mine and I met them, cold with rag
e. “
I take back what I said about being a buddy. You
’
re not even that.”
She said nothing. I spun around and stormed out the side door, banging it into the wall as I flew out, enraged. I didn
’
t realize Peter had followed me until I almost slammed the door
o
n him as I flung myself into my apartment.

“
Go back downstairs, Peter.”

“
No,”
he said, following me into my bedroom, standing in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. “
I
’
m not going to leave you when you
’
re in this state.”

“
What?”
I said. “
Georg
ia? Don
’
t worry. I won
’
t be here for long.”

His eyebrows knit together for a second as I tossed my duffel bag onto the bed. “
Where are you going, Portia?”

“
I
’
m going to Tuscaloosa,”
I said, throwing a small pile of T-shirts in the bag, then standing up and
pointing one finger at Peter. “
All this time, all this time she had me believing that he
’
d left. And she
threw
him out. It was her, it was her choice the whole time.”

“
I understand you
’
re upset,”
Peter began.

“
Upset? I don
’
t have a relationship with my fa
ther because of her lies and her...her...her
lies.”
I threw up my hands and gave up trying to find the words for what I was feeling. Screw words. I turned and pulled open another drawer, grabbing some jeans.

“
You shouldn
’
t drive like this,”
Peter said.

“
I
’
ll be fine, Peter.”
He watched me with soft concern. I tried to swallow my annoyance. “
I
’
m fine.”

He held his hand out. “
Wait for a half hour. It won
’
t take me long to pack.”

“
Thanks, Peter, but no thanks. Tell Vera not to worry”
I swiped my hand over the
top of my dresser, tossing hair stuff and deodorant into my bag. “
I
’
ll be back tomorrow.”

Peter shook his head. “
We
’
ll call when we get to the hotel.”
I slammed a drawer shut with my hip. “
Don
’
t you know when you
’
re not wanted?”

He smiled. “
No. And so far,
it
’
s working for me.”

He walked over to me, took the bag from my shoulder and tossed it on the bed.

“
Peter, I
’
m not playing games here.”

I made a move toward the bed. He grabbed me by my shoulders and moved me back.

“
Me, neither. I don
’
t want you driving
in this state of mind, and you shouldn
’
t be alone when you see your father. Now, I
’
m gonna go and I
’
m gonna pack and either you
’
re going to be here or you
’
re not when I get back. But I don
’
t think it would kill you to wait thirty fucking minutes and let s
o
mebody help you for once.”
I crossed my arms over my abdomen and stared him down. Was this the same mild-mannered Peter who
’
d let me push him out of my life without saying anything? Had he really changed? There was only one way to find out.

“
Okay. Thirty m
inutes.”

He smiled. “
Thank you. I
’
ll be right back.”
He headed out the bedroom door and I reached into my duffel bag, then rushed out after him.

“
Peter!”
I called. He turned as he pulled open the front door. I grabbed a piece of paper off the counter and s
cribbled some instructions on it. “
I need you to get me something from the house.”

“
She
’
s fine,”
I heard Peter say as I stepped out of the hotel bathroom. We
’
d gotten one room with two double beds. I just couldn
’
t see being prudish about sleeping arrangements with a guy who
’
d seen me naked every day for two years. We were adults and there were two beds, so I wasn
’
t going to worry about it.

“
Yeah, we
’
re just about to go see him.”
He pointed to the receiver and mout
hed “
Vera”
at me, then spoke back into the phone. “
I
’
ll watch out for her. Don
’
t worry. How are Mags and Bev?”

I bristled at the sound of their names. I didn
’
t want to think about Mags and Bev. I was too angry and too hurt to think about either of them wit
hout feeling physical pain.

“
Uh-huh,”
Peter said, and looked at me, but didn
’
t give any clues as to what Vera was saying on the other end.

“
We
’
re planning on heading back early tomorrow morning, so I should be able to help out in the store...”
He stopped.
I didn
’
t have to listen in to know that Vera was telling him not to worry about it. He smiled and made a motion to me, asking if I wanted to speak. I shook my head.

“
No, she
’
s still in the shower,”
he said. “
But I
’
ll tell her.”

He hung up and looked at me.

“
They
’
re worried about you,”
he said finally.

I looked at my watch. “
It
’
s almost eight o
’
clock,”
I said. “
Are you ready?”

He stood up. “
Are you?”

I nodded. “
Ready as I
’
ll ever be.”

That was true enough. Part of me wanted to run home and hide under the cov
ers. But I
’
d come all this way, dragged Peter through my drama, and it was time to get it over with.

Peter put his hand on the small of my back and ushered me out the door.

“
Let
’
s do it, then.”

Jack
’
s house was a big, white sprawling ranch-style on the out
skirts of town. Peter pulled up in front and stopped the car, then turned to me.

“
You want me to come in with you?”
he asked.

I stared at the lights in the house. I saw a figure float past one of the windows. Looked like a woman. Must be Marianne.

“
Portia?
”
Peter craned his head into my line of vision. “
You okay?”

“
Yeah,”
I said, unbuckling my seat belt and clutching the box in my lap. “
I don
’
t know how long this is going to take.”

Peter smiled. “
I
’
ll wait.”

I looked at him,
and
the irritation I
’
d felt earl
ier melted away. “
Peter, thank you for
—”

“
It
’
s nothing. Really. I
’
ll be here when you
’
re ready.”

I squeezed his hand and hopped out of the car. The night air felt heavy and wet, and gravity seemed to get stronger the closer my feet brought me to Jack
’
s hou
se. When I got up to the porch, my heartbeat was quick and light, and I thought I might faint. I pushed the doorbell.

“
I
’
ll get it,”
a man
’
s voice boomed from inside. My gut did a flip. The porch light turned on, glaring in my face. The door opened.

I froz
e. I thought about running away, but couldn
’
t move.

There he was. My father, the man who had picked me up and danced with me when I was a lit
tle girl. The man who, as it turned out, had loved me after all. His hair was graying at the temples, and he looked heavier than the man I remembered, but I knew it was the same man.

And I didn
’
t know him at all.

He smiled at me politely for a moment, then
his smile faded.

“
Well, I
’
ll be,”
he whispered. “
Don
’
t you look just like her?”

I blinked. It took me a second to realize he was talking about Mags.

“
I
’
m sorry for not calling,”
I said, my voice wavering in and out like a bad radio. “
I should have called
first.”

“
No,”
he said. “
No, it
’
s okay. I
’
m...”
He paused and I could see the muscles working in his jaw. “
I
’
m real glad you
’
re here.”

“
Okay,”
I said. I held out the shoebox in my hands. “
This is for you.”

He took it tentatively and pulled the top off.

“
I w
rote you letters, through the years,”
I said. “
There are some pictures of me growing up.”

He picked my sixth-grade picture off the top and smiled. “
You had braces.”

“
Yeah.”

He looked from the picture to me, his eyes shining. “
You
’
re beautiful.”

I tried to
blink the tears away, but they came too fast. I put my hand over my face and sobbed. I heard him put the box down on a deck
chair
and felt him pull me into his arms.

“
Now don
’
t tell me no one
’
s ever told you that before,”
he said, his voice crackling with
the effort of his humor, running his hands over my head. “
I wouldn
’
t believe it for a second.”