13. Chapter 13

Chapter thirteen

Juliette

When I arrived at Kelsey's home on Saturday, her bags were sitting on the front step. A duffle bag, her dance bag, and a trash bag half-filled with sneakers all lined up in front of the open doorway. Winter had decided to finally behave appropriately and the biting sting of the wind whipped my cheeks.

Caleb forced a smile when he saw me, grabbed two bags and carried them to the open trunk of my sedan. A brand new, shiny white, coupe sat in the driveway. "I like the new car," I said, thankful for the neutral territory.

"It drives great. I put my old one up for sale back home. They only had white on the lot this morning. I prefer color, but, oh well."

I grabbed the remaining bags and tossed them into the trunk. Caleb slammed it shut and for a grueling few seconds, we made eye contact. My head tipped up slightly to meet his gaze. His breath and mine colliding between us in cloudy puffs of carbon dioxide.

"She needs time," I said.

"She feels safe with you," he said.

"That doesn't mean you are unsafe."

He nodded. "Text me when she's settled and I'll bring over dinner. I've got it simmering inside."

"Perfect," I said. We watched Kelsey bound down the steps away from her childhood home, and jump into the passenger's seat.

Kelsey and I turned on some music while we unpacked some of her clothes. It filled the gaps in our polite conversation.

"Don't you have movies to watch? Friends to go see?" I asked. We both knew that eventually we were going to talk about her mother, and Caleb, and everything that her present and future entailed. I was giving her a way out of that.

"I don't really feel like seeing anyone today," Kelsey replied.

"If you don't go do something normal teenagers do, I'm going to ask if you are ready to tell me about why you're here and not with Caleb." Her expression remained unmoving. "Nothing you say will ever leave this room. I promise." I separated the clothes by color nonchalantly, as if I were asking her to gossip about a television show.

"He's so," Kelsey's nose scrunched like she'd smelled something vile. "It's like he just expects me to like him and call him my father. To believe he automatically loves me or something just because he's my sperm donor."

"Kelsey," I scolded. I wouldn't let her diminish his role like that. This was the work that had to be done, to switch her point of view.

"He's pushy."

"Pushy how?"

"At dinner, he asks me so many questions, like he's trying to make up for fifteen years. Ew, and he's always so happy and nice. It feels fake because we totally ignore the whole reason he's here."

"Why do you think he's here?"

Kelsey sat on the edge of the bed and sorted the laundry with me. "I bet Mom found him and knew he was loaded and that's why she left me to him."

"There's nothing online that would suggest he's rich," I said. "Trust me, I looked."

"You didn't look hard enough."

"What did you find?"

Kelsey opened her phone and after fifteen minutes I was mouth agape. "The FBI should put you on payroll," I said.

"This is a vacation he and all his buddies took to Bora Bora. I priced it out, that's at least several grand for hotel alone. The cheapest suite is two thousand a night." She tossed me a look.

Now that I could recall Caleb's face from memory, I saw his likeness in the color of Kelsey's eyes and shape of her brow. Even her proportions were akin to his, the angle of her jaw, but softer and feminine. Kelsey had a lot of Erin in her, but to ask me now, I'd say she looked more like Caleb.

I examined her phone again as she flicked through the pictures. I stopped her hand. "Isn't that his girlfriend?" I pointed to the pretty brunette on the arm of someone else.

"I guess this was before they got together."

"Does he talk about her?"

Kelsey went quiet as she weighed what she knew and how much to disclose. Unfair, given that she and Caleb gossiped about me plenty enough.

Kelsey shook her head. "No. I only know her name. They argue on the phone sometimes."

"About what?" Shit, I was prying. This was unnecessary information.

"I don't know." Kelsey answered after a beat. "Me, probably. I've only ever heard him saying I'm his daughter and he's not going back."

I considered this, carefully mapping out my next steps. "That's a good sign, right?"

"Not if I'm ruining his relationship."

There it was, the self-blame. "Or, you can see it for what it is, and he's choosing you." This was what Kelsey couldn't understand, and to be honest me either. How a stranger could give it all up in a day.

Kelsey looked like her skin was crawling at that interpretation. It was no surprise as her mother had always chosen her relationships over her.

"I think it really speaks to his character, how hard Caleb is trying and all the things he dropped for you. He's never mentioned any of it, ever. He sort of, accepted that it has to change for you. I don't think its fake."

Kelsey didn't respond.

"I swear he has never once talked about how this changed his life. I actually pointed out all the things that had to change and he never so much as bat an eye."

"I don't want his life to change because of me."

"I'm going to tell you something and you have to promise me Caleb will never know." Kelsey agreed, of course, and I told her in excruciating detail the events of the night before their first therapy session. How tortured Caleb looked. How his heart bled on my floor. The moment I decided to pass judgement in favor of his plea.

"Do you think he really would have been there or are you just saying it?"

"One hundred percent. Nobody almost cries to a stranger, especially me because I was being so judgmental of him, about something so raw. He was serious, Kelsey. I don't know how, so instantly, but he loves you in his own way. I think he really feels like this is where he belongs. Maybe he always wanted a family." The sentiment hung heavy between us. I lightened the air, squeezing her hand and smiling, "What's not to love?"

Kelsey wiped a tear that threatened to run down her cheek. "I'm pretty great."

"I certainly think so. I want you to call me Juliette, while we're living together."

She frowned. "That feels weird."

"Please, tell me one thing that doesn't feel weird right now. Caleb is coming to dinner, so we have some time to get settled in. Whatever you need, I'm here for you. So is Caleb."

"It happened too fast."

"I know. I think Caleb's enthusiasm put you off. Correct me, but I think you and I were both a little too critical of him before. We didn't give him a chance." The line where truth and what I knew was the right thing to say was hard to see; blurred, as it was, by the necessity of my trust. "I think it's very telling how he's willing to give you space while you get to know each other. He's following your lead."

"On the condition that I move."

"I'm about to impart some old lady wisdom on you and you're not going to like it."

Kelsey's face scrunched up like she'd just smelled something offensive again.

"Sometimes we find ourselves in circumstances outside of our control. We thought we could control it by making him sign over rights. He didn't. He's not going to. Whether you like it or not, whether you're ready or not, life will come at you forcefully, angrily, unfairly. Whether you want to or not, life will force the bitter pills down your throat and then your body has no choice but to digest them, or rot from the inside out. You are here. You are safe. And you know you are loved by me. I am not going to let you rot. You can stay for as long as you need, as long as it takes to digest everything that you are going through."

Kelsey began to weep.

My voice cracked.

She looked away, furious with me.

"No, no. Look at me when I'm talking." Kelsey's gaze was murderously pained. I gasped for air as I fought the tears. "We will digest this, together. I've had life throw me in the trash multiple times, not quite as suddenly as you, or as traumatizing. But, you must admit it right now, Caleb hasn't done a single thing that would suggest he isn't genuinely, for whatever godforsaken reason, ready to be your father. He's not going away. We tried that."

"We didn't try hard enough," sobbed Kelsey, hiding the whisper behind her hands.

"We're done trying. The show must go on. You are the most resilient child I have ever had the privilege to know. We are going to find a way for you and Caleb to look something like family." She was rigid in my arms as I embraced her. I stroked her hair, fighting tears. "I'm sorry. It had to be said. For both of us."

"I know." She cried so quietly in my arms, as if she were whispering her anguish into my shoulder. It broke my heart to imagine how and why she had become so good at crying silently. "I'm just so angry."

"It's alright to be angry."

"I want him to go away." Kelsey pulled back and wiped her tears. She gave an exasperated sigh and folded into herself, knees tucked to her chest while she wiped away her tears. "Why does he have to be so..."

"Happy?"

"All the time. I hate it."

"He's from California. They get regular sunshine."

Kelsey half-sobbed, half-laughed. She took a deep, steadying breath and looked down into the tear-stained fabric of her sweater. "You're right. I know you're right, Miss Juliette. We never gave him a chance and he hasn't done anything wrong. But I can't. I just can't." Kelsey's sobs mercilessly punctuated the space between every word, no matter how hard she tried to swallow them down and stop. We embraced until her crying settled. She pulled back, eyes swollen, and wiped her face with her sleeve. "He makes bad jokes."

I was unsure for a second if the words came out on a sob or a chuckle.

I shrugged wryly. "Poor taste in humor is the mark of a good dad."

"At least he doesn't wear crusty old New Balances," Kelsey laughed.

I chuckled. "He does have good taste in footwear."

"Clothes, too."

I hummed noncommittally. "See? He's not all bad."

"No, he's not. Logically, I know that." Kelsey scooted back, away from me. "I want it all to stop. It won't stop."

God, I knew how that felt. As though the treadmill suddenly malfunctioned and we were scrambling to keep up. Caleb was a better runner than either Kelsey or me. Aside from the one meltdown in my lobby, his strides were so steady and unphased. Looking between the two of us now, Kelsey and I were struggling to even stay upright.

"I wish I could make this easier for you."

"Being here already feels better," she said.

"I'm glad." I thought about putting my arm around her again. It didn't feel right. I nudged her sideways with my shoulder. "It's going to be fun. I always wanted a roommate. Now I'll have someone to paint my nails with."

Kelsey checked her chipped polish and compared them to my meticulously manicured fingers. "Are you trying to say something?"

"Indirectly," I said with a sly smile. We had enough heavy conversation for one day. I said I'd help her digest, but trauma is best dealt with in small portions. I knew this from my previous experience. "Audition season is coming up and you know you can't have bright colors."

Kelsey gave me a glare that could freeze a lake. "That's a month away. "

"Precisely. You can wear bright colors for the next three weeks, then we can switch to ballet pink."

"Are we going to be doing twelve step skincare routines? I don't even moisturize."

"No. I do three steps max. You know that aging is a privilege."

"Yes, Miss Juliette."

I left her alone for the rest of the afternoon. I suspected she was napping when I didn't hear a sound from her room for two hours straight. A faint, familiar, prickling of longing crawled around my heart when I dared to open her door and found her fast asleep. The image of Kelsey, strikingly child-like in her sleep, opened a hollow in my soul that I had forgotten existed completely. This emptiness that I filled with work and children and laughter and love. For a moment, no longer than the beating of a hummingbird's wing, my every nerve ending ached with the desire to be a mother.

The room she occupied had once been intended as a nursery.

I took extreme caution to close the door silently.

I vowed to love Kelsey as though she were mine.

Caleb let himself in without knocking, carrying a stack of glass dishes covered in foil. They smelled divine even before he got into the kitchen. "Kelsey," I called out, "Caleb's here!"

"Your little jungle in the living room is impressive," he said, dropping tamale ingredients on the island.

"It's the only big window that gets really good light for all my babies."

Caleb lowered his voice and leaned into me. "How has she been?"

"Not great." I didn't miss the way his smile dropped slightly. I wiped my hands on a towel and touched his elbow. I gave it a squeeze the way I would if he were my student. "She's settled in, and we had a long talk. She cried, took a nap. This is going to be good."

"You're not going to turn her against me? "

"No. I've decided I will not. Unless you turn out to be a major asshole. Though we've decided to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"We?"

"Oui. Now, how do we cook these?"

Kelsey stepped into the kitchen hesitating at the threshold. I encouraged her with a smile and a tilt of my head. Caleb looked up from what he was doing and this time his smile was bright. Genuine. This man had to be careful, or people would take advantage of that.

"Come help us make the tamales." He exaggerated his accent on the last word.

"Sure."

One word was better than no words.

It didn't even phase Caleb. He started lining up the corn husks, masa, and filling. He got more animated as he taught us how layer the inside and fold the husk so that the meat wouldn't fall out.

Kelsey snuck a spoonful of the shredded meat and I elbowed her side. Caleb continued with his demonstration and much too detailed folding technique. Kelsey stole another spoonful and whispered through her chewing. "Taste it. It's so good."

I shook my head, no . She pointed to her mouth, her other hand on her heart, and pretended to swoon. "Stop," I mouthed, suppressing my grin.

"Do it," she mouthed, pointing to the spoon.

Caleb, ever oblivious, was still going on about his mother's technique versus this technique and how his folding was superior. A girlish thrill had me reaching out and stealing a scoop.

"Hey!" Caleb protested. He'd caught me red-handed. I couldn't back down. "No tasting or there won't be any left—" I put the spoon in my mouth, eyes locked on his defiantly. His voice deepened and slowed, eyes dipping to my lips. "For the tamales," he finished.

It was better than it smelled. So good my eyes rolled back, and I closed off the world just to enjoy the complex blend of spices. "Delicious," I praised.

Kelsey

"My mother would have smacked your hand for stealing that," Caleb said to Miss Juliette.

"I'd gladly take a beating for this," she laughed.

Miss Juliette didn't throw me under the bus. Caleb passed us another spoon and I followed all his steps while he made another one with us. After the last step, mine looked comparable to Caleb's and I glanced at Miss Juliette's.

I couldn't help myself. I pointed down at it. "Why does it look like that?"

"What?" she pouted. "It looks just like… almost like yours."

I bent over the counter to look past Miss Juliette at Caleb, whose lips were a tight line. Miss Juliette looked at him, too. He stammered for a few seconds before taking a deep breath, "There's room for improvement." His voice trailed upwards, as if he were asking and not stating.

Miss Juliette looked down at her messy little meat pocket and patted it. To which it burst open. Caleb and I exploded with laughter.

"I followed all of your steps!" she said, trying to contain the meat.

"You overfilled it. Like I said not to."

"You did not say that. More filling, more flavor," Miss Juliette said.

"Yes, he did." I said through the stich in my side. The frantic way she was trying to resuscitate the poor thing was sending me to the moon. Miss Juliette probably never got anything wrong in her whole life and a tamale was going to break that winning streak.

"You're supposed to be on my side," she scolded me in a harsh whisper.

"I thought there were no sides," Caleb said.

"Clearly we haven't formed an alliance strong enough to withstand the opportunity to make fun of me." Miss Juliette gave up on her tamale and eyed us both .

It felt weird, laughing with Caleb. I knew I had to give him a chance. I knew it in the forefront of my mind. Yet, the laughter left me uneasy in a way I couldn't explain. Like I was cheating on Mom.

I tried to stuff her back into the dark spaces of my mind and enjoy dinner. Caleb and Miss Juliette made easy conversation while my mom's voice snickered from that place inside of me. She pulled me out of the room and told me Miss Juliette didn't really want me here. That she'd had that long conversation to convince me to let Caleb in so that she could be rid of me as fast as possible. She told me Caleb didn't really want me, that he felt forced into this.

You didn't even want me, I responded. That shut her up right as Miss Juliette took out a monopoly board and Caleb cleared the table with me. It felt good to focus on something mundane, and forget that mom existed for a few hours. We played and ate off bright floral plates. Miss Juliette had such a colorful home.

She also wiped the floor with us. I lost terribly. Caleb held his own but couldn't ever make enough to build a hotel. Most of his money went to paying his debts to Miss Juliette, who gloated like a ten-year-old. I knew she competitive, but not like this. She waved all of Caleb's money in his face and tucked it away for herself.

She'd be a great mom, I thought.

Suddenly, it hurt too much to look at her. It felt like she had hit a pause button for the night for all of us, and we all played a game while our lives existed somewhere else, outside of this house. It hurt to look at Caleb, too. He was so obviously enjoying himself, enjoying my company, that I felt guilty. Resentful.

"I'm tired," I said.

It was a lie.

My soul was worn-out, but I'd be scrolling upstairs for a long time before sleep would find me. Maybe I should watch a documentary , I mused, anything to make me fall asleep quicker . Neither of them made any comment or objection.

"Goodnight," they said in unison. I couldn't bear to look at them anymore. The primal urge for flight sent me to my room and under the covers, fully clothed, gripping a pillow to my chest so hard my muscles ached.