26. Sloane

CHAPTER 26

SLOANE

I ’m restless all night long, thinking about everything my dad said.

How Cam’s lifestyle isn’t normal. How women will try to hook up with him. How traveling and long-distance will be hard.

But those aren’t the points that keep me awake.

Some people stay.

And some people don’t.

That’s the line that plays in my head on loop, over and over again. When the sun finally sneaks through the slats of my blinds, I throw back the sheets and give up on the idea of sleep altogether.

There’s only one person who can talk me through this right now and I’m sure she’s up already. My grandmother rises before the sun to feed the chickens and goats, weed her vegetable garden before it gets too hot. She probably already showered and is on her second cup of coffee by now.

Throwing on a T-shirt and denim shorts, I scrape my hair into a ponytail, brush my teeth, and slip out of the house as quietly as possible. After last night, I’d rather avoid my dad right now.

I drive the few blocks to Mimi and Poppa’s house. My grandparents live at the edge of town, right where the grass starts to grow taller and the yards get bigger. The cute yellow house with the wraparound porch and the white shutters is the same one where my dad grew up. I’ve been coming here my whole life, and I always feel completely at home.

With a gentle knock, I push through the unlocked door. “Mimi? It’s me.”

“In here, sugar.” Her voice carries from the kitchen, straight through to the living room. The living room’s decorated in light oak wood and florals, my dad’s trophy collection lining the shelves. I run my hand over his high school football picture as I walk by, my chest squeezing.

Coming here is like being sucked into a time warp, a shrine to my father’s glory days. Before I came along and screwed up his life.

Not that Mimi or Poppa or my dad ever said that out loud. It’s more a vibe, an undercurrent running between the three of them.

“Hi, Mimi.” I bend down and give my grandmother a hug. She’s poring over a crossword puzzle book, a steaming mug of coffee next to her.

“What’s a seven-letter word for deli meat?” She squints up at me over her readers.

I shrug. “I dunno. Not turkey, that’s only six letters.”

“Hmm.” Setting her pencil down, she shoves the puzzle aside. “What’s cooking, good looking? You’re up early.”

“I know. Couldn’t sleep. Where’s Poppa? ”

“He went to breakfast with his buddies from the men’s club. What’s up?” Her head bobs, platinum blonde hair swishing across her narrow shoulders. My dad got his broad build from Poppa because Mimi’s tiny, barely hitting five feet. But she’s a firecracker, make no mistake about it.

I slide into the seat next to her, the scent of freshly brewed coffee swirling through the air. A rooster crows in the backyard and a dog barks in the distance.

“How are Toast and Jammy? You feed them already today?”

“I did. Fed and watered the greedy little goats. Otherwise, they’d make quick work of my garden. We can wander out and say hi, though, if you want.”

I shrug, then rest my elbows on the table. “It’s okay. Maybe later.”

“Alright.”

Mimi sits quietly, waiting for me to spill the tea and tell her what’s wrong. I tuck my leg up under me and gnaw on my bottom lip, focus on choosing the exact right words.

“Has Dad always been broken?”

“’Scuse me?” Mimi’s eyebrows crush together. “What do you mean?”

“Before Mom. What was he like? Did he take risks?”

“You want to know if your father took risks? What are we talking about here, exactly?”

“Not like skydiving or drag racing or jumping off the roof of a boat dock. Not those kinds of risk.”

“What kind then?” She tips her head, twirling the pencil in her fingers.

“Like—in love.”

“Well, sugar, I think you’d best ask him. As crazy as it sounds, your father didn’t tell me much about his love life. ”

“C’mon. He tells you everything.”

“He tells me some things now. But back in high school, when your mother was around? No. God, no. That boy told us nothing. Good thing, too, or you might not be here.” She half-chuckles at the joke and I let out a heavy sigh.

“Dad does not want to talk about Mom with me. Or his love life. Guaranteed.” I pick at a loose thread fraying on my shorts.

“Your daddy’s never been one for idle chatter, that’s for sure.” Mimi takes a sip of coffee, then sets the mug down, her finger dancing over the embossed daisy pattern. “Listen—you’re almost thirty years old now, so I feel like I can finally say some things. Maybe it’ll answer your question.”

She sucks at her teeth and stares out the window over the kitchen sink for a long minute before speaking again.

“Your daddy was wildly in love with your mother. That was clear any time they were together. And why wouldn’t he be? Every boy was crazy about her. She was beautiful and popular, a cheerleader and the homecoming queen.” Mimi pauses and I hold perfectly still, afraid to move and break the spell. This is the most she’s ever told me about my mom and I don’t want her to stop.

“The two of them dated from sophomore year until she left town. They were the golden couple of Thunder Creek High.”

The only photos I’ve seen of my mom are from old high school yearbooks. My dad doesn’t have one picture of the two of them together, or of her with me. Three years together and there’s nothing, no trace of them as a couple. Of her at all.

I shift in my chair, trying to absorb this new information. Sure, I’ve heard a few things here and there, through the grapevine. I knew my mom was popular, a little on the wilder side. But that’s all. Everyone has the decency not to bring her up around me or my dad.

Mimi presses her lips together and I’m afraid that’s all I’m going to learn, all that she’ll say.

“What happened, Mimi? Really?”

“Broad strokes—your mama got pregnant senior year, but hid it real well. Easier to do when it’s your first pregnancy, and it was winter. By the time graduation rolled around, she was showing. Your mama’s family was Catholic and I don’t think they took the news very well. They never came ‘round here or talked to me or your Poppa about anything.”

“Your daddy had a full-ride to Georgia to play football. But he was in love and gonna be a daddy. So he turned them down and told your mama he was staying, asked her to marry him.” Mimi folds the edge of the napkin beneath her mug, unfolds the corner, then folds it again.

“I shouldn’t say any more. If your daddy wanted you to know all this, he would have told you himself.”

“Please, Mimi—” I reach out, grabbing her arm. “Please.” My voice rises, pleading. “Daddy will never. He doesn’t want to talk about her.”

Mimi presses her lips together, biting at her lower lip the same way I do when I’m thinking hard about something and I silently pray she’ll keep talking. I need to know.

“She turned him down. He came back with the ring—my ring I loaned to him—and that was that. She had you a month early, in August, then up and left town.”

Tears spring to my eyes and I shove down the wave of grief rising out of nowhere. Stupid, because I never met the woman. My dad and his family are all I’ve ever known. So why am I emotional about a total stranger who abandoned me?

Mimi pats my arm, rubbing her weathered thumb across the skin. “So, yes. I’d say your daddy took risks, and big ones at that. They didn’t always turn out because that’s life.”

I rock back in my chair and blow out a long breath. “Thanks for telling me all this. It explains a lot.”

She shakes her head, long wisps of bangs falling over her eyes before she brushes the hair away.

“I probably shouldn’t have. That’s your daddy’s story to tell. But I suppose it’s your story, too. And you deserve to know. Don’t be too hard on your daddy—I think he kept the details to himself for good reason. He never wanted you to hate your mother. I believe he thought it’d be easier to just carry on as if she never existed. Trouble with that is, he never moved on. Sure, he moved forward. Minute after minute, day after day. But he buried all that passion and love, tucked it down deep so no one could ever hurt him like that again. That’s my guess, anyway. He never told me as much.”

Mimi stands, whisking her mug off the table and pouring the last drops of coffee down the drain.

“Enough about that. Let’s go say hi to Toast and Jammy.” Her tone lifts and she’s the upbeat Mimi again, her face cracking into a wide, easy smile. She holds her hand out to me and I take it, following her outside into the bright morning sun.

But I can’t shake my dad’s somber words from last night, the pain in his eyes.

Some people stay. And some people don’t.