Say You'll Remember Me(33)

He stared back at the sky. It took him a long time to answer.

“My dad was military. Very strict, a disciplinarian and an alcoholic. Mom was detached. There’s no other way to put it. She didn’t have a single motherly bone in her body. They should never have had kids. To be fair, I don’t think they wanted me. They definitely didn’t like me.” He looked at me. “What’s your favorite memory with your mom?” he asked. Probably to change the subject, but I could understand why.

I puffed out my cheeks. “God, so many. This, the beach. Going to swim at her best friend’s house when she wasn’t home and accidentally setting off the alarm and having to explain it to the cops. Getting these cakes shaped as monster faces from the grocery store? They were buttercream and I’d pick out the perfect one and we’d take them for picnics at Brand Park. Going up to the cabin in Big Bear and making fairy houses in the backyard and getting fresh strawberry pies to take home from this bakery we liked. Sleeping under her desk at the office on days when I was home sick and eating chicken and stars soup through a straw. Disneyland. Going to Porto’s and getting their guava cheese strudels. I could go on and on. Laughing with her about her food.” I smiled a little. “She was a terrible cook. Really, really bad. But you know, considering everything else she was good at, it was probably for the best. She would have been too powerful.”

He smiled.

“I wish you could have met her,” I said, almost to myself.

“I’d like to.”

I felt my smile fade. “Even if you do, you never will.”

We went quiet, looking at the light saturated sky. No stars. Just the city illumination reflected off the clouds in a foggy gray.

“Do you have any happy memories with your parents?” I asked, looking at him. “Or was it all bad?”

He thought about it. “Mom took me to ride horses sometimes. She had a friend with a stable. Sometimes she’d help me get my chores done before Dad got home and saw it. But that was probably more for her than me. He wasn’t exactly nice to her either. But mostly she ignored me. Acted like I was a burden or an inconvenience. The worst part was when she ignored what he did. I didn’t have anyone on my side or anyone to protect me.”

Huh. I wondered if that’s why he was a protector now.

I shifted to my side and propped myself up on my elbow. “What’s the Winnie story?” I asked.

He looked back at the sky. “You don’t want to hear it.”

“You said it was second date stuff. It’s our second date.”

He made me wait a moment. Then he let out a little resigned breath. “Winnie was my childhood dog. She wasn’t fixed. My parents wouldn’t spend the money—in fact looking back, I don’t think she ever went to the vet. She kept getting pregnant. She’d have a litter and…”

He stopped.

“And what?”

“And he would drown them.”

I gaped in horror.

“This happened, four, maybe five times?” he said. “So after the last time I took her and walked her to this vet clinic I’d seen by the grocery store we went to. I remember it was cold. Probably March. It was two, three miles, in the snow. And when I got there, I begged the woman at the front desk to let me talk to the doctor. I waited a half an hour and when he finally came out, I told him everything. Everything. I told him what would happen to me if my parents knew I was there, I told him I had nothing to give him. I begged him to help me, I was crying. And he did. He took her and he spayed her. He gave her all her shots.” He laughed a little. “He even cleaned her teeth and cut her nails when she was out. He let her recover there, while I told my parents Winnie ran away. She did that a lot. And a week later I came and I got my dog.”

He went quiet.

“She was the only thing that made living in that house tolerable. That man was a hero to me. I wanted to do that. I wanted to be that for someone else’s Winnie. That was my moment of inception.”

My mouth was still open. “How old were you?”

“Twelve? Thirteen?”

“Oh my God…” I breathed. “I don’t know how you’re not a supervillain. And your dad? Seriously, fuck that guy. I hope when he sees the word doctor in front of your name he punches holes in his own walls.”

He snorted.

The waves crashed and we lay there, looking at each other. Me wrapped in his towel, and him, holding my hand between our bodies.

He cleared his throat. “So, have you connected with any old friends since you got home?”

“My friends?” I shrugged. “A few. I went to high school here so as soon as I landed they were calling me.”

“Have you hung out with any of them?”

“Yeah, we went to dinner last week.”

“And were the high school friends from dinner the other night all girlfriends?”

I drew my brows down. “What do you mean?”

“Were there any guys there or…?

“You mean like, ex-boyfriends or something?”

He gave me his expressionless expression.

I sat up on my elbows. “Are you asking me if I’m talking to my exes?”

Poker face.

Oh my God. He was worried about it.

I grinned. “No. I am not talking to my exes,” I said. “What about you? Have you asked out any of your patients’ moms recently?”