If Ever(48)

"Here." He turns it around.

Mom has a brilliant smile and laughing eyes. "Our hair is definitely the same color."

"And you have the exact same smile. Your eyes are a little different, but everything else is the same."

No one's ever told me we look alike before. Of course, there haven't been many people around who knew her either. "Thank you for that."

I gaze at Mom's face and miss her. The feeling fades sometimes, but then will surprise me again at unexpected times. He sips his coffee as I put the photo back.

The waitress arrives with our food. "Wow, you must be starved," I say, checking out his veggie omelet, with greens on the side, oatmeal, and bowl of fruit.

"It's a two-show day. I need all the energy I can to get through it." He digs in, and I feel a little guilty for showing up on such a busy day.

"Can I ask about your dad?" he asks softly.

I startle and look up from my ham and cheese omelet. So I guess we're going to have that awkward talk. "Sure, but there's not much to tell. My parents divorced when I was young and he left for a job in Paris."

"He just walked away?"

"Yup. I didn't see him again until Mom's funeral." I set my fork down and recall that long ago day. "I hugged him so hard when he showed up I think I scared him off."

"Why would you say that?"

"Maybe if I hadn't been so desperate, he might have let me go with him to live in France."

"You were a kid. He should have been there for you."

I stab at my eggs. "Well, he wasn't. He went back to his new family and left me with my grandfather who was suffering from Alzheimer’s."

"I can't believe he got away with that."

"Yeah, well he has a very good lawyer whose job was to keep me away from him, and my confused grandpa agreed to keep me, even though he was the one who needed care."

Tom shakes his head. "Are you sure you're okay talking about this?"

I know it's a shocking story for people to hear for the first time, but this is all old news. It's what happened, I'm long over the unfairness of it, but I get that Tom has questions. "I might as well get my skeletons out of the closet early. If you're going to bolt, I'd rather you did it before I actually start to like you."

"Oh, you like me," he says looking smug.

"You're mighty confident." I laugh, and take another bite.

"So what happened after your Grandpa passed?"

I wipe my mouth. "Well, the house had to be sold when Gramps went into the nursing home. I lived with my friend Jenny's family for a few months, but then her dad was transferred for work and they had to move to Seattle. It was the summer before my senior year."

"And you actually lived in your car." His tone is pained.

"I did." I say it as if it's no big deal, but the memories from that lonely time are carved in my psyche like a scar that won't fade.

"How long?"

"Until I graduated." Embarrassment creeps up at me. It shouldn't, but it does. I hate this feeling. I'm a survivor. I can take care of myself.

"Aren't winters really cold in Minnesota?"

I nod.

"You were a minor. Aren't there laws that should have protected you? I know this is none of my business, but didn't your mom or grandfather leave you any money?"

"My mother had life insurance money that she left to me in a trust, but my father, or rather I should say his lawyer, is in charge of it until I turn twenty-five. The only time I've been able to get access to it was for college tuition and books."

He grips his cup and his jaw clenches.

My eyes wander to the table, the floor, anywhere, but facing him. Talking about this was a mistake.

"More coffee?" The waitress offers brightly and I welcome the interruption.

"Yes. Thank you." She refills my cup and then Tom's. I hide behind my mug to avoid his concerned gaze.

"So, how about this weather?" I say.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. It's unthinkably unfair, but for the record, love, I don’t scare easily, and I'm not going anywhere."

I smile weakly and hope it's true, but I don't want to count on anything yet. We barely know each other. My earlier excitement has been replaced by a weariness after drudging up my ugly past. But at least now the topics are lighter. He tells me about his family including his sister's kids, a three-year-old boy and a baby girl. We talk about my last performance. And then a yawn slips out.

"You're already bored with me," he says.

"I'm sorry, I guess I need a lot more coffee after so little sleep."

"You look beat. Where's your hotel, I can drop you off."

"I don't remember what hotel it is." I whip off a text and Dominic responds with the hotel name and that he tried to check in, but our rooms won't be ready until three. I'm not quite sure what to do about that.

"I've got to get to the theatre soon, but if you want, you can crash at my place until your room's ready."

"I hate to impose."

"That's crazy. If you don't mind a ten-minute walk, I can guarantee you total privacy and a comfortable bed. I've got the matinee, so you can relax, nap, or salsa. Between shows, I'll take you to your hotel."