The You I've Never Known(88)
The dad who constructed our lives on a foundation cemented with lies.
Where did he go?
What’s his name now?
When he meets
his next woman, will he even admit there’s a me?
He won’t, will he?
No, he’s excised me from his fabricated history.
I am raging.
I am wounded.
I am lost.
Saturday Morning
At the barn, Max, Peg, and I
discuss a possible schedule.
Understanding my situation,
they offer plenty of hours.
The horses—and we—will miss the extra attention when you go back to school, says Max.
“Once I finish basketball I’d
love to come work after school.
I’d leave the team, but I’m not
a quitter.” I realize that’s true.
We wouldn’t want you any other way, says Peg. We’ll be able to give you as many hours as you want. Hillary’s doctor insists she give up riding, and regardless, she’s planning to start at University of the Pacific in the fall.
“I thought she was going
to Stanford. Why the change
of plans?” But it hits me just
as Peg confirms, Gabe. UOP
is in Stockton. It’s kind of nice, really. She’ll be closer to home.
Quick Decision
Must be someone’s idea
of love. I’d ask if she’s already been accepted, but I figure if her dad can guarantee
Stanford, UOP is a no-brainer.
It’s called connections.
Maybe one day I’ll have some.
Max goes to saddle a horse for me and I take the time to ask Peg, “So when Hillary goes, you’re staying?
I mean, you could move
back to New York.”
I could do a lot of things, but I’ve made a life here, and just because one element will change doesn’t mean I want to uproot myself again.
“I get it. But what about
your fiancé? No chance
at putting that back together?”
He’s married now, with three kids, but even if he wasn’t, I wouldn’t try to rebuild a relationship that was less than fulfilling to begin with.
With age comes wisdom.
Wonder If That’s True
For everyone.
I cycle through the horses, and with each, anxiety about seeing Maya in just a few hours grows exponentially.
We’re meeting at the Diamondback Grill, best burgers in town, which means Syrah will be our server, at least if she gets her way, and she will.
After the last filly is put away, I take the time to run home (how can I still think about it that way?) and shower. No use immersing Maya in equine drift while she picks at her salad or whatever. I doubt her diet includes cheeseburgers.
I Get to the Restaurant
At six exactly. Maya’s already there, and Syrah is, in fact,
taking care of our table.
I approach cautiously. Not sure why. Not like she’s going to jump up and hug me. Oh God, please, no.
She does stand. But all she does is take my cold hand into her warm one and stroke it gently.
She smiles. Casey, sit down.
I’m so glad you agreed to talk.
No pressure, I promise.
We slide into our seats and
Syrah comes over to take
our orders, or check up on me.
Or both. “I’ll have my usual,”
I tell her, and am surprised
when Maya nods and says,
Whatever she’s having, same for me. Oh, unless you’re vegan.
Sorry, but I’m a carnivore.
Syrah giggles. Vegan? Ha!
That girl is way into meat.
The kind you eat, I mean.
So Syrah, but it’s okay because the ice is now broken. “Thanks for clarifying. Oh, and in case you two haven’t actually met,
this is my friend, SEER-uh, like Sarah, but spelled Syrah.”
Maya smiles, and her teeth,
of course, are perfect. I see.
Great information to know.
Syrah hesitates, but when
her manager puts his hands on
his hips, she hustles off to do her job.
We sit, sizing each other up, for a few long minutes. Finally, I say, “This isn’t nearly enough time to work through everything
I’ve learned in the last week.
I don’t have a clue how to feel about you, just to be clear.
But I do know one thing, and
that is how important the truth has become to me. If we can
start there, maybe the rest
will fall into place eventually.”
Wordlessly
Maya studies my face,
feature by feature.
Finally, she says, I don’t have time for lies, Casey.
Wait, may I please call you that? You’ve always been Casey to me.
All I can say back is,
“I don’t know who I am.
Call me whatever you want.”
She looks like I’ve slapped her, and maybe I have.
Okay, listen. I get that you’ve been lied to, and believe me, I understand what an outstanding liar you father is. He’s clearly a sociopath, not that I knew what that was when we met.