I Liked My Life(68)

The question catches me off guard, though I guess it shouldn’t. If Marie wanted to meet me, she could’ve reached out at any time. “I’d like to learn more about my mother.”

“Ha! Classic. The kid who was raised by the frigging woman wants to learn about her.”

“I guess it does sound crazy, but it’s the case.”

“Well, if you’re serious, you better hop to it because I have lung cancer. I ain’t dying tomorrow, but I’m dying. And I’m not getting on a train or nothing either,” she adds. “You want to meet me, you come here.”

Cancer makes the situation more complicated. I’m not looking to be anyone’s hero here. I have enough shit on my plate. “Lung cancer?” I repeat. “That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”

She expels more phlegm, hopefully into a tissue of some sort. “Don’t be,” she barks. “I’m not. I knew what I was getting into smoking two packs a day, even without the damn warning labels. Beth said it all the time and, anyways, there’s no way you can smoke those things and think it’s good for you. I don’t care what no one says, that’s horseshit.”

I see no way around offering, so I ask if there’s anything I can do to help. “Nope,” she says to my relief. “Stopped treatment months ago. They took out a lung; I did the chemo thing; damn cells spread anyway. All chemo did was make me look and feel like shit. Now I’m just smoking in peace, waiting for my time.” I ask if she has any children. “No, no kids. Never married. Neither did Paul.”

I don’t know where to take the conversation, and she doesn’t reciprocate with questions. “Is next Monday too soon for me to come?” I have a firm policy of getting things I don’t want to do over with as soon as possible. When I fire someone, it happens at eight in the morning. Unfortunately, I have vendor reviews this week, so Monday is the earliest I can swing.

“I gotta work at noon, so you’d have to come in the morning.”

I’m genuinely curious where someone like Marie finds employment. “Okay. Where do you work?”

“I do customer service for the local telephone company.”

I clamp down on my tongue to keep from laughing. Her voice is downright terrifying and she leaves the clear impression that customer satisfaction isn’t a top priority.

“Okay. I’ll arrive at nine.”

“All right if Paul comes?”

It’s the only hint of interest from her end. “That’d be great,” I say. Maybe he’s the communicator in the family.

“Great. Clock’s ticking for me, but he’ll still be around for sure.”

She’s so nonchalant about her pending death. She sounds almost excited. “Let me leave you my number in case—”

“Now, there’s no need for that. I’ve got nowhere to go, so I’ll be here if you show, and if you don’t that’s fine too.”

“All right then,” I agree. “See you—”

The phone disconnects.

I’m tempted to screw it, but that feels too much like the path I’ve always taken, the one that got me to a point where I need to panhandle for details about the woman who raised me. I need to see this through.

I duck out of my office and ask my new assistant, Darlene, to book a flight and hotel before I overthink it. I’ve been well behaved with Darlene. The one time I barked, she said, “I’m not a mind reader, Brady. Feedback is appreciated, but please don’t yell it at me.” So I don’t. There’s no power high losing your temper when someone calls you out on it in an even tone.

The challenge of this impromptu trip will be hiding it from Eve. It’s clear Marie isn’t going to fill a familial hole. There are too many unknowns, and Eve doesn’t need to meet someone with a death sentence right now. I’ll put her off until I’m back. She knows Bobby’s a flake; it shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ll need someone to stay overnight Sunday with her though. I’d call Paige, but she’d assume the right to ask a million questions. It’d be a work night for Meg, and an unreasonable commute. Rory, I think. Rory? I don’t know how someone I only recently met popped to mind, but it isn’t a bad idea. Eve respects her and I-I … well … I find her relaxing. Unique. Certainly trustworthy.

She answers on the first ring. There’s country music playing in the background. Maddy loved country. She said each song told a whole story, so it was like listening to a mini-audiobook. I hadn’t pictured Rory as a country-music lover. Until this moment, I didn’t realize I’d pictured her at all.

“This is Brady Starling,” I say too formally. “Eve’s father.”

“You mean the guy I had dinner with last week?” Rory asks.

“Yes.”

“And ran into at CVS?”

“Yes.”

“That was a joke, Brady. I was being facetious.” She accentuates facetious in a way that pokes fun at my seriousness and vocabulary and maybe even general approach to life.

“Right, right,” I let out a forced chuckle. “I was calling for a favor.”

“Sure.”

I smile. “You don’t know what the favor is yet.”

“I’m not one to turn down favors.” Is she flirting? I can’t tell. Do I want her to be? I don’t know.