The You I've Never Known(70)

Monica comes running, waving to stop.

Dad is right on her heels.

Don’t hurt her.

Don’t hurt her.

He won’t.

Gabe won’t let him.

I drive right past.

Can’t stop.

Won’t stop.

How do I process this?

Maya McCabe.

Who is this woman who claims to be my mom?

My mom?

Impossible.

Shows up.

At my game.

Just like that.

Materializes

out of thin air.

How the hell does that happen after all this time?

And Casey? Who is she?





My Name


Is Ariel.

Ariel Pearson.

And my dad

is Mark Pearson.

Not Jason Baxter.

Why does Maya McCabe, who so can’t be my mother, let alone my mom, insist my name is Casey?

I’ve never even met a Casey. I can’t be one.

She’s crazy.

That’s it.

Maya McCabe is crazy.

My name is Ariel.

Air. Ari.

I’ll even take Ari Fairy.

Which circles me right back to Dad.

Mark Pearson.

Not Jason Baxter.

Right?

He couldn’t have— wouldn’t have?— woven my entire history into a tapestry of lies.





I Drive


And drive, looking in the rearview mirror, but there’s no sign of anyone following me.

Head spinning, I cycle through snapshots of my past.

All those women.

My teachers.

Ma-maw and Pops.

None of them ever called me Casey. None

I can remember.

No, I must be Ariel.

I drive until I notice my gas gauge registers under a half tank.

Work tomorrow.

School all week.

I have no money

and won’t get paid until the eighteenth.

That’s Ariel thinking.

Casey’s asking:

Work?

School?

You’re kidding, right?





Pertinent Question


Who am I kidding?

How can I go to work?

How can I go to school?

How can I play basketball, or hang out with my friends or fall in love or dare to dream about my future?

How can anything

be normal again?

In fact, what’s normal?

How would I know

when I can’t even be sure who the fuck I am?

Casey. Casey Baxter.

Are you a part of me?

Are you who I am?

“This is who I am!”

That’s what I want to yell, but I need certainty.

I need the truth of me.

But who can I believe?





I Stop the Car


In a wide turnout,

try to decide where

to go from here.

My cell has buzzed

messages for over an hour.

I scroll through them while I consider my next move.

Everyone wants to talk.

Dad: WE HAVE TO TALK. COME HOME RIGHT NOW.

At some point. But not yet.

From Syrah: WOW. THAT WAS WEIRD. I’M HERE IF YOU

WANT TO TALK.

Maybe later.

From Monica: LO SIENTO, NOVIA. YOU’RE STILL

COMING OVER, YEAH? YOU CAN TALK TO ME, OKAY?

I know. But not now.

And I can’t even consider a boisterous Torres crowd when all I want to do is fall into bed and sleep this away.

From Gabe: AUNT ZELDA WOULD LIKE TO TALK TO

YOU. I KNOW YOU’RE UPSET. SO IS SHE.





Upset


Yeah. I bet she is.

I get it completely.

Upset.

Confused.

In need of a giant dose of truth.

I’ve always known Dad was unreliable.

Self-centered.

Deceitful, yes, even that.

But there are lies, and there are lies.

Identity isn’t something that should be trifled with.

I can’t believe he’s been lying about who he is all this time.

Oh yeah, and who I am, too.

Because as much as I’d like to blame this on Maya’s insanity, the name thing somehow resonates.

Holy shit.

What if I really am Casey Baxter?





There’s One More Message


From an unknown number, which can only belong

to Maya McCabe, and it does: YOUR FRIEND GAVE ME YOUR NUMBER. HOPE THAT’S

OKAY. I’M SORRY I WASN’T MORE CIRCUMSPECT. TATI SAID I SHOULD WAIT, BUT I WAS SO EXCITED TO

HAVE FINALLY FOUND YOU I JUST COULDN’T. YOU

DON’T KNOW, CASEY, YOU CAN’T POSSIBLY KNOW

HOW HARD I’VE LOOKED FOR YOU. NOTHING I TOLD

YOU WAS A LIE. I’M SURE THIS COMES AS A SHOCK

AND AM WILLING TO GIVE YOU AS MUCH TIME AS

YOU NEED.

Friend, huh? Wonder

which so-called friend

that might have been.

Syrah, probably.

Who else would feel

the need to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong?

And what the hell does Maya mean, as much time as I need?