The Distance Between Us(41)

He laughs a little, and I find myself wishing I could see his face so I could witness how his eyes light up when he smiles.

“And I’ve missed your wit.”

“Understandable.” My heart beats heavily in my temples. “I never said thank you for letting me borrow the camera.”

“So does this mean you’re done with the website? What’s the address? I want to see the soul-sucking dolls on my screen.” Some papers shuffle on his end and I wonder if he’s reaching across a desk or something to get on his computer.

“No. I mean, there is no address. My mom doesn’t want it.”

“Oh. Why?”

“I’m not sure, actually. I was going to surprise her, show her what I’d done, and she flipped out on me. Totally shut down, said she didn’t want it. It was so unlike her.”

“What did you put on it?”

“That’s the thing. I’d only shown her the banner and our contact info. I was telling her how I wanted to put her picture up as well.”

“Is she camera shy?”

I prop my feet up on the wall and let my free hand drift above my head. “No.”

“Maybe she just doesn’t want that on the internet, her face along with where you live. It’s basically like you’re posting your address on the website along with her face. I can see why that might freak her out, a bunch of strangers knowing where you live. Is there a way to do it without the personal info?”

I had stopped breathing. I know this only because black edges into my vision. I take a breath. Is she worried about a bunch of strangers finding out where we live or one very specific person? My father.

“You okay?”

I hum, not trusting my voice. My whole throat is tight. I’m not sure words could make it through at all.

“You sure?”

I swallow. “Yes. I think you might be right.” Considering how much my throat hurts, I’m surprised by how normal my voice sounds.

“I often am.”

“Do you think he’s tried?” It takes me a moment to realize I’d said that out loud and another moment to realize that Xander has responded back and is now waiting for my answer to a question I didn’t hear. “What?”

“I said, ‘do I think who’s tried what?’”

I force myself to sit up and then stand. Lying down was making my thoughts too free. “These strangers you refer to. Do you think they’d try to find us for their sinister purposes?”

“What sinister purposes are those?”

I lean against the back counter and with a black pen doodle around his phone number I had written on the calendar. “You know, the things strangers need people for . . . eating their candy and finding their lost dogs.”

“I don’t buy it, you know.”

“You shouldn’t. Those are their ploys to lure you into the car so they can take you away. I’m glad you wouldn’t fall for it.”

“I’m talking about your humor. I know that sometimes you use it to hide things.”

“You give me way too much credit. I really am as shallow as I seem.”

“Hardly. And the answer to your question is yes. Yes, I think your father has tried to find you. What father wouldn’t want to know his daughter?”

“The kind that would run away at even the thought of me.” I don’t know why I’m talking about this. There’s a reason I avoid this subject. It feels as though someone has poked every inch of my skin with a needle, leaving me raw and exposed.

“If he had known you he’d have never been able to leave.”

I close my eyes. What kind of man could run away like that? Just leave my mom in that state. The kind that was scared out of his mind. Scared what I would do to his future. I did ruin futures: my mom is evidence of that. He was just a kid, really, with a future so full of possibilities and the money to make it happen. He probably was a lot like Xander. Which is why when my mom saw Xander she couldn’t help but see her past. “Could you have left?”

“Never.”

I can’t decide if that makes me feel better or worse.

“That’s what makes me think he’s tried, Caymen. A regret like that doesn’t go away.”

Assuming he regrets it at all. “How hard can one girl be to find?”

“Maybe your mom hasn’t told you about his attempts.”

“My mom wouldn’t keep something like that from me.” As I say that my eyes collide with the box on the calendar where she had written “small business association meeting.” Maybe she was keeping something like that from me. And if she was, then maybe Xander was right. Maybe she was keeping a lot of things from me. “What are you doing Wednesday night?”

“I’m pretty open.”

“Career day. Six thirty. Meet me here.”

“It’s my turn for career day. I have something planned for tomorrow, remember?”

“Okay, fine. Tomorrow you. Wednesday me.” I clear my throat. “Unless that’s too much. You aren’t going to get in trouble for seeing me so much, right?” I want to add, “Girlfriends can get so jealous,” but I don’t because I’m afraid it might sound bitter. That’s the last thing I want to come off as.