This Could Be Us (Skyland, #2)(33)
Me: Promise. Tomorrow. Love you.
I turn my phone off because I can’t take their care anymore. It makes me want to cry how they love me no matter what, but my husband whom I’ve known half my life couldn’t manage that. There aren’t enough sonnets for friendship. Not enough songs for the kind of love not born of blood or body but of time and care. They are the ones we choose to laugh and cry and live with. When lovers come and go, friends are the ones who remain. We are each other’s constants.
The girls are in the living room when I enter the house.
“Mommy, look!” Lottie hops up from the couch and shows me the ribbon pinned to her warm-up suit. “First place.”
“Oh, sweetie.”
I’ve never missed a meet. They’re not all crucial, but I’m always there. I hate that I missed this one because I was chasing after their pathetic father, but it had to be done. And I meant what I said. I won’t lie for him. I won’t tell the girls he’s a good man when he’s a cheat and a criminal. We’ll line up our therapists now for the possible daddy issues this may give them, but I will not protect him when he didn’t protect us.
“How was Dad?” Inez asks, glancing up briefly from the game she’s playing on her iPad. “When’s he coming home?”
“He’s fine.” I drop my purse and pharmacy bag on the couch. “It may be awhile before we know when he’ll get out. The lawyer’s working on it.”
Out.
Not home, because if I find a way to keep this house, he’ll never live here again.
“But he will get out, right?” Lupe asks, setting her phone aside.
“Girls, I want to tell you something.” I perch on the ottoman in the center of the room and look at them one by one. “Your father has made some bad choices. I can’t get into the specifics right now, but he may have to pay for some of the things he’s done.”
“But he said it was Mr. Cross,” Inez protests, her brow creasing into a frown. “That he got set up.”
“No one has set him up,” I say firmly. “I don’t want to talk about the case too much yet because things are still developing. I just want you to understand that your father may not get out on bail yet. We’ll deal with the rest as we go.”
“But what are we gonna do?” Lottie asks, blinking rapidly, her sweet mouth pulled tight. “Daddy takes care of us.”
“I’ll take care of us,” I tell her without hesitation. I don’t know exactly how, but I will.
“But you don’t have a job,” Inez says.
It’s like a knife to my heart. Edward has barely been around the last couple of years. He said it was increased workload. Now I know it was playing fast and loose with the company’s money and his assistant. I’ve given my whole life to these three humans, to that man, to this home, to this family. And at least in this moment, it feels like my worth to them is measured by the paycheck I don’t have.
“We’re her job.” Lupe pops Inez on the side of her head. “Mom, she didn’t mean it that way.”
“Mean what what way?” Inez’s wide eyes fly to me. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Mom. I was just saying—”
“It’s all right, baby.” I stand and bend to kiss her head and do the same to Lupe and Lottie. “I know what you meant. I’m gonna go upstairs for a bit, okay?”
“Mom,” Lupe says with a worried frown that’s too old for her face. “Are you sure you’re—”
“I’m good.” I muster a reassuring smile that I hope convinces her because it’s the best I can do right now. “How about pizza for dinner?”
Their agreement is subdued compared to the usual enthusiasm, and I know my girls so well, I can practically see their thoughts floating over their heads. Kids are resilient. They’re trying to go about business as usual, but their father is behind bars. The FBI is involved. They know this could change life as we know it, and they aren’t sure what will happen.
That is one of the parts about being an adult that really sucks. You’re the one who has to be sure or has to figure it out. My parents always figured it out. We didn’t have a lot of money, but I don’t remember worrying about it. I want my girls to have that. Not blissful ignorance. I knew things were hard sometimes, but I was always sure Mami and Dad would see us through.
Thoughts of my parents compel me to the closet when I reach my bedroom. I drag my step stool out and climb up to grab Mami’s chest. Sitting on the floor and lifting the lid, I breathe her memory in and draw her close for comfort.
If she were alive, she would heap a stream of curses on Edward’s name. She would threaten him with my aunt Silvana, who embraces the old ways and still practices Sanse. Mami always said none of that vodou stuff was real, but let somebody mess with us. She’d call Aunt Silvana back on the island so fast. A solitary tear coasts down my cheek and slips into the corner of my mouth. It’s not salty. It’s bittersweet with the remarkable years I had with my mother and the years I’ve had to live without her.
When we were a little older, she talked more about her life with Bray before my father. She told us he’d cheated on her once, and that was it.
“You accept a man shitting on you,” she used to say, “he’ll make himself at home. There’s no three strikes. You use me, take me for granted, you prove you don’t deserve to be in my life.”