She smiles and lays her hand on top of mine. ‘Reid – this house is ten thousand square feet, give or take a few closets. We have staff who’ve been with us for years and are utterly trustworthy. It’s private. It’s safe. This is the perfect place for him. And for you, for now. Not forever – for now.’
I nod. I’m still stunned at how my parents have reacted to this.
Mom sips her coffee and I sip mine, both of us lost in our thoughts.
And then: ‘You haven’t said very much about Dori the last few times we’ve spoken,’ she says. ‘How are things with her sister? And her first semester at Berkeley?’
I shake my head. ‘I’m not completely sure on either count.’
‘Hmm.’ Her hmm doesn’t sound surprised.
‘When I met her, I saw her altruistic side and thought do-gooder. I saw the girl with no make-up, wearing the least flattering outfits a girl could wear – especially knowing I was going to be around –’ Mom rolls her eyes and shakes her head – ‘and I expected boring. And she wore these T-shirts every day, supporting all kinds of causes, and I decided she was judgemental and sanctimonious.’
During our very first dinner out, Dori admitted that she was a bit sanctimonious. Her admission was coupled with that mischievous smile of hers that I’d begun making deliberate efforts to trigger. That may have been the moment I fell in love with her.
‘But I was so wrong about her. Even when she questioned her own goodness, she managed to see something good about me. And then her sister had that accident. It destroyed her. It obliterated her faith in everything.’ I bite the inside of my lip. ‘Everything except me. I somehow got her to trust me. And then I lied to her. And I can tell myself it was a lie of omission like that’s something other. Like that’s something lesser. But it was still a lie, and I knew it every goddamned day that I didn’t tell her.’
‘Reid, if she’s lost her faith in God, that isn’t yours to resolve –’
‘Yes, it is. She was trying, Mom – she was trying so hard to rebuild it. And then her dog died, and I didn’t tell her about River. And now I have a son, who I can’t turn my back on –’
‘Of course you can’t. Dori wouldn’t expect that. She wouldn’t want that. I know she wouldn’t.’
‘That’s what’s tearing me apart. I don’t know how to fix this. How do I fix this?’ I stare into her eyes – my eyes, mirrored back at me. ‘I can’t lose her. I love her.’
‘I see that, Reid. But if I’ve learned anything in the past few months – and I think you have, as well – it’s that people must fix themselves. That’s the only way change has any hope of becoming permanent.’ She squeezes my hand.
Winking at me from her ring finger is the huge, flawless, round-cut diamond my father presented on bended knee when they were young.
Not as young as I am.
My dad was twenty-nine or thirty when he proposed to my mother. He was thirty-five when I was born, very legitimately. Thirty-five. Not fifteen, and too much of a dickwad to even consider the fact that a girl he’d had sex with – a girl he’d made love to – could possibly be pregnant with his child, no matter what else he thought she’d done, or with whom.
Mom follows my eyes to her hand and back to my face. She angles her head. ‘Reid?’
‘Mom. I need to ask you something.’
I hear the melodic chirrup of the Cantrells’ doorbell when I press the button, because all the windows and the front door are wide open. It’s a beautiful spring day in LA.
‘I’ve got it!’ Dori calls as she descends the staircase, alerting me that one or both of her parents are home. Just like the first time I ever heard her speak, I’m struck by the musical sound of her voice.
I watch her appear a bit at a time – bare feet on the steps and then her perfect legs in a pair of khaki shorts, followed by one of her more hideous T-shirts – a tie-dye done with too many colours, rendering it a sort of repulsive brown, for the most part. It sports the name of a chorale outreach programme for teens, sponsored by her high-school choir. Finally, her beautiful face dips into view.
How could I have ever thought her plain? I must have been blind.
As she reaches the screen door, I say, ‘You can’t scare me off with that butt-ugly T-shirt, you know.’
She clicks the lock on the door and admits me, glancing down at herself. ‘It works on most people. I could stand on the porch like a scarecrow and no one would come near.’
‘Except me.’ I pull her close and wrap my arms around her. ‘You know, if I keep you close enough, I can’t actually see it. Plus, it’s actually very soft, even if it is the most revolting T-shirt ever made.’
Her mouth quirks. ‘It does sort of look like it was tie-dyed in poop.’
I laugh. ‘Yeah, it does.’
I’d like to sweep her up, take her to her bedroom and strip it off. That’s not an option at the moment. One, her parents are home. And two, we need to talk.
As if she’s reading my mind, she shifts her eyes away from mine. Lucky for me, her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and those exposed, pink-tipped ears tell me she can read my mind. Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, she reveals her anxious mental state.
Time to be serious, as much as I’d like to help her avoid it.
I take her hand and lead her to the sofa. The ceiling fan whirrs overhead, and Esther’s dog bed is still in the corner, though her collection of toys has been packed away. Rose bushes provide bursts of colour across the tiny back yard, and the aroma wafts through the open windows, as potent as a hothouse. As luxurious as my parents’ house is, I love it here. I love her watery-coloured bedroom and those fish swimming across her ceiling. I think River would love it too.