Random (Going the Distance) (24 page)

“That’s good, right?”

“Very good.”

From the way she talked about him, I hadn’t thought Virginia’s ex was that kind of guy. I rub lotion on her feet, and talk about Tyler and the new job and my dad. Sort of pouring it out, I guess. Sorting it out. “I’m kind of worried about my other dad now. Like, what if it turns out he’s not such a nice guy?”

It’s hard to think of anything else, so after only about fifteen minutes I’m gone again. Feeling unsettled and a little outside of myself. The new job, the new guy, the fact that my other dad is back in the picture—where is my life going?

Which is what makes me stop on the way home at the greenhouse and wander through, smelling roses, admiring the new flats of tiny poinsettias in the back. I spy the girl who gave me the Rex begonia and work up my courage to approach her. “Hi. I’m sorry to bother you, but do you think I could fill out an application?”

She’s watering flats. Her hair is caught back under a bandana, and it doesn’t matter in here if you have make-up on. Her nose is freckled and she’s pretty, maybe my mom’s age. “It’s not the best time of year, but you can sure fill it out. You need to get one from the girl in the shop.”

“I don’t want to work in the shop, though.”

“I know.” She smiles. “You want to grow things.”

I nod.

“That’s fine. Fill it out and I’ll keep you in mind for the next time we have an opening. Do you have any experience?”

“Not like this. I grow things at home. For myself.”

“Okay.” She sprinkles the water over the plants. “What’s your name?”

“Jess. Jess Donovan.”

“I’ll remember.” She tilts her head toward the serious greenhouses, where the roses and carnations are grown. “You can go in if you want.”

I put my hands over my heart. “Really? Thanks! I won’t touch anything, I swear.”

“You’re fine.”

Before she can change her mind, I’m through the door. The smell of peppermint and plants breathing envelops me, and I close my eyes to breathe it in deep. Beneath the scent of the carnations are the deep notes of earth and humus and moisture. It’s quiet, too, only the sound of water dripping somewhere and the rustling whisper of the plants themselves. So alive. Breathing. Welcoming.

I walk up and down the rows, noticing how the flowers are trained to grow upward between wires, how long the stems are. Each row has its own color: red, white with pink edges, pure pink, and then pure white blossoms which I know are dyed many colors by putting their stems in food coloring.

After ten minutes I’m calm and peaceful and clear. This is the life I want, in here, with the plants. How can I find a way to make money doing it? A greenhouse is never going to be enough to support me. I don’t want to be a florist, messing with ribbons and orders and all that crap. I don’t even like the way flowers look when they’re in such fussy vases.

Can you study
this
stuff at college?

On the way out, I put in an application. You never know. And if I don’t try, it will never happen.

Chapter TWENTY

W
hen I get home there’s a note from FedEx that they’ve left a package with Electra. I knock on her back door. “You have something for me?”

“Come on in. I’m so curious! There’s a package and a letter that was overnighted. The letter is from New Zealand.”

“What?”

“Do you know somebody there?”

“Kind of. My other dad.” I follow her into the kitchen, which smells like chocolate baking. “Is that brownies I smell?”

“It is.” She hands me the flat overnight letter, wrapped in official FedEx International packaging. The handwriting is typical man-style, kind of rushed and not all that neat, but the look of it is kind of…foreign, I guess, with a different slant, a slightly different way of making letters. I touch them, and a memory goes through me: whispering, trees blowing outside classroom windows, the mountains in the background. Far away. Long ago.

His name is right there. Keiran Pears. “I found him on Facebook,” I tell Electra. “We started talking a little bit. I can’t believe he sent me something.”

“Open it up, girl!”

I open the letter first. Inside, an envelope is taped to a package wrapped in balloon birthday paper. The card has my name on it. It’s a birthday card for a little kid, with bears and balloons on the front. He’s written on the inside.

Dear Jess. I’ve missed a lot of birthdays, so give me this chance to make up for that a little bit. This will make it easier for us to talk to each other. I set up an account for you with a local phone company. You won’t have to pay anything. That’s the least I can do. Once you get it up and going, send me a text at 011-67-03-51-983. Love, Dad.

I read it aloud to Electra, then turn my attention to the package. The package is from Apple, and my heart rushes with anticipation. Using the knife Electra gives me to slit the paper, I get it open.

My mouth falls open. “An iPad? Is it really?”

“Open it and see.”

It’s the real thing. Sleek and black, the most elegant thing I’ve ever owned. “Wow.” I take out the instruction leaflet and press the button the way it tells me to. The screen comes on and I follow the instructions, one at time, until the main screen shows up. Ready to go.

I find the message icon and type in the number. And text
  OMG! I can’t believe you sent me an iPad!!!!!!!!!!! It’s the nicest thing I’ve ever owned!  

In two seconds a ding tells me he’s texted back.
  You got it! That’s great! Hope you like it.  

I do, I do, I do. I’ll have my bf help me set up Skype, too.

When can we talk face to face? I’m so excited to see you in person!

Suddenly shy, I look at Electra. “I’m kind of freaked out by this. Is it weird? What if there’s something wrong with him? Like, why did we lose touch?”

“Seems to me he’s a lot of miles away, so you’re safe enough right now. Can’t hurt to talk.”

“You’re right.”

I text back.
  I’m pretty open Thursday. Can we try then?  

What time is it there now?

3:45 pm

What if I talked you thru Skype download? Can you talk now?

I look at Electra, who is sitting down at her table, making a grocery list. “He wants to help me download Skype and talk.” I widen my eyes. “Right now.”

Her dark eyes are calm. “Do you want to?”

I take a breath. “I’m nervous! But…yeah. I think I do.”

“There’s your answer.”

“Right.” I lick my lips. Type,
  Okay! Tell me what to do.  

Really?

Yeah. I’m with my neighbor Electra. Is that okay? She’s making brownies.

Sure, of course.

Step by step, he takes me through the process of downloading the Skype app and helps me get it set up. A couple of times I get frustrated, trying to figure out what I’m doing wrong, but it’s not even ten minutes before I can see his number, with a little green phone beside it.

I stop and take a breath, my hands on my thighs. “I haven’t talked to my dad since I was seven.”

“I’ll give you some privacy.” She starts to stand up.

“No! Stay!”

She keeps going, pressing a hand to my shoulder. “I’ll just be in the other room, child.”

My heart is pounding as I text
  I’m ready.  

The machine makes a little noise, and I see the icon blinking and touch it. A face appears, a man with curly black hair and twinkling eyes.

My dad. I’m swamped with images, memories, all tangled up.

Tears fill my eyes and I cover my mouth. I can’t even talk because there’s so much emotion roaring through me, like the water in Manitou, rushing through the streets. “I’m sorry,” I finally manage, and hiccup a little. “Wow, I didn’t know—”

He’s emotional, too, and he’s blinking really hard. “Me, too. Jess. Me, too.” His accent is strong. “You do look a bit like your mother,” he says. “But you’ve got a lot of my family in you, too. I can see it in your nose and chin.”

I just keep staring at him, a weird buzzing in my ears. I’m feeling shy, but so full that I hardly know what to say. “You look just like I remember you,” I say at last.

“You do remember?”

“Yeah,” I say. “A lot. I don’t know that I knew that until we started talking.”

He nods, mouth serious.

Electra comes through and hands me a fistful of tissues. “That was Electra,” I say.

“Hello, Electra!” he says in a sing-song voice.

He’s outside, with sunshine and trees behind him. “So these are my vineyards,” he says, waving to one side. “Do you want to see them?”

“Yes, of course.”

He picks up his own machine; I figure it must be an iPad, too. I’m suddenly looking toward a line of mountains, with rows of plants in between. Even I know what grapevines look like. “Wow, that’s beautiful.”

“We grow grapes for Sauvignon Blanc. Our own label, but also we ship grapes to the US for some California labels, too. Americans are drinking a lot of Sauvignon Blanc these days.”

I don’t even know what that is, other than wine of some sort, but don’t want to say so. “What’s your label?”

“I can show you.” The accent suddenly rings in my head, singing and fluty, and I suddenly remember being in school in America, thinking they all sounded strange. “Dad, did I have an accent when I left?”

“Course you did. Proper little Kiwi, you were.”

“I forgot about that.”

His camera bounces over to a row of bottles, very simple and clean. Long Cloud Sauvignon Blanc, Marlborough New Zealand is on the label. “This is us. Right here.”

“Nice.”

The camera spins back to show his face, and he’s holding the iPad out in front of him as he walks. “Tell me about yourself, Jess. What do you do?”

I give him a half grin. “I’m a waitress right now. Trying to figure out what’s next. My boyfriend helped me fill out some financial aid papers for school last night. And I’ve been kind of trying to get on at this greenhouse a couple of blocks away.”

“You like growing things?”

“Oh, yeah. Let me show you! How can I do what you did with the camera?”

He tells me, and when the camera is reversed, I carry the iPad through the kitchen. “I wish you could smell it in here,” I say. “Electra’s brownies are amazing.” I head into the back yard and pan over the garden and my little house, sitting against the alley. “This is Electra’s garden, and I help her with it. The corn is mine, and I’ve eaten almost every single pea out here.”

“It’s beautiful, Jess. Lush.”

“But that’s not the main thing I want to show you. Come on.” I keep walking. “This is so cool! I can’t believe I’m talking to you in New Zealand!”

“I’m just glad to talk to you after so long.”

I think about asking him why we never talked, but for now I want to show him the house. “Okay, so this is my house. It’s tiny, but it’s mine. These are the flowers I’m growing. Ordinary, right? But this is my first time.” I go up the steps to my house, open the screen door and go inside. “This is the inside. But these—” I pan the camera over the shelves of plants in front of the lace curtains. “—these are some of my plants.” I get a close up of the Rex begonia, the leaves swirling in extravagant patterns. “This is my Rex. Super proud of it.” I carry the iPad into the kitchen, show him the African violets on the windowsill. “These, too. Grew them from one leaf each.”

“You have a green thumb, like your dad. And look at your place. It’s like a cabin, isn’t it? Like a lake house.”

I spin the camera around. “Yes! That’s exactly what I love about it.” I look at the walls and shrug. “It’s also really cheap.”

He’s sitting down again, and I sit down, too, feeling a little shy but drinking in his face. “I didn’t think you would look so familiar to me.” I press my hand to my chest. “It makes my heart hurt a little bit.”

He nods, his face serious. “Mine, too.” He clears his throat. “How’s your mom?”

I’m completely still. Of course he doesn’t know. I try to figure out how to say it, but he figures it out by my face.

“She’s gone?”

I nod. “She died almost five years ago in an accident.”

“Oh, Jess. Oh, I’m so sorry. Did you not know how to get in touch with me? You could have come—”

“I have a stepdad. Henry. We were okay.”

“Henry, sure. I remember Henry.” It’s my dad’s turn to be flustered. “A good man. An artist or something.”

I smile. “Sculptor.”

For a minute then we’re both quiet. I can’t keep looking at his face, and he looks away, then back. I have a million questions, but I don’t want dark stuff to interfere with this, because this feels good. “Do you have any kids?”

He shakes his head. “Only you. I’m married, though.”

“I saw her picture on Facebook. She looks really nice.”

“She is. You’d like her. She’d like to meet you, you know. I’ve talked about you practically every day since we met.”

I draw my eyebrows down. “So why didn’t we talk?” It just comes out.

He looks stricken. “Your mum never told you?”

“Told me what?”

He glances away, his lips pursing, and suddenly I’m very small, looking up, reaching for him. He turns back, gives me a faint smile. “It’s complicated, Jess. Your mom had—” He clears his throat. “She had some things going on. She asked me not to call. I respected her wishes.”

“But I’m your daughter!”

“I know.” His eyes are serious and clear. “Maybe your step-dad could help you out. I don’t want to—”

At my side, my phone rings, startling in the quiet room. I jump a foot.

“Do you need to get that?”

I shake my head. “I’d rather talk a little longer. I don’t want to end on a bad note.”

“Me, either.” He leans in and gives me a grin. “You think you’d ever come visit for a bit? We have plenty of room.”

“I’d love it, but it’s pretty expensive. We’ll see.”