Lock and Key(97)

“That’s just my point, though,” I said as she pushed open her door to climb out and I reluctantly did the same. “I’m not desperate.”

She just looked at me as I came around the back of the car, then hoisted her purse over one shoulder. “First,” she said, “I gave you money for clothes. You bought four things.”

“Seven, actually,” I pointed out.

“Then,” she continued, ignoring this, “for Christmas, I gave you gift cards, with which you bought nothing.”

“I don’t need anything!”

“And so really, you have given me no choice but to take you shopping by force.” She sighed, then reached up, dropping her sunglasses down from their perch on her head to cover her eyes. “Do you even realize how happy the average teenage girl would be in your shoes? I have a credit card. We’re at the mall. I want to buy you things. It’s like adolescent nirvana.”

“Well,” I said as we passed two moms pushing strollers, “I guess I’m not the average teenage girl.”

She looked over at me as we approached the entrance. “Of course you’re not,” she said more quietly. “Look, I know this is kind of weird for you. But we have the money, and it’s something Jamie and I want to do.”

“It’s not weird,” I told her. “Just unnecessary.”

“You know,” she said as the automatic doors to Esther Prine, the upscale department store, slid open in front of us, “it’s okay to accept things from people. It doesn’t make you weak or helpless, even if that is how Mom felt about it.”

This was a bit too reminiscent of the ground I’d been forced to cover during my first (and hopefully only) therapy session a few weeks earlier, so instead of responding, I stepped inside. As always, I was temporarily blinded by the gleaming white tile of the store, as well as the polished-to-a -high-sheen jewelry cases. To our left, a guy in a tuxedo was playing Pachelbel by the escalators. It was always kind of odd to be talking about my mother, anyway, but in this setting, it bordered on surreal.

“It’s not about Mom,” I said as Cora gestured for me to follow her up to the next floor. “Or not just about her. It’s a big change. I’m not used to . . . We didn’t have much these last few years.”

“I know,” she replied. “But that’s just what I’m saying. In some ways, that was a choice, too. There were things Mom could have done to make things easier for you and for herself.”

“Like get in touch with you,” I said.

“Yes.” She cleared her throat, looking out over cosmetics as we rose up higher, then higher. “But it goes even further back than that. Like with Dad, and the money he tried to give her. But she was so stubborn and angry, she wouldn’t take it.”

“Wait,” I said as we finally reached the top, and she stepped off into Juniors. “I thought Dad never gave her any money. That he dodged her for child support, just disappeared. ”

Cora shook her head. “Maybe he did later, once he moved to Illinois. But those early years, right after he moved out? He tried to do the right thing. I remember.”

Maybe this shouldn’t have surprised me. After all, by now I knew my mom had kept so much secret, tweaking her history and my own. Cora was not what I’d been led to believe, so why would my father be, either? Thinking this, though, something else occurred to me. Something that also didn’t belong in the polished world of Esther Prine, and yet I had to bring it in, anyway.

“Cora,” I said as she drifted over to a table of sweaters, running her hand over them, “do you know where Dad is?”

In the pause that followed, I saw my entire life changing again, twisted and shifting and different. But then she turned around to face me. “No,” she said softly as a salesgirl drifted past, pushing a rack of flimsy dresses. “I’ve thought about looking for him, though, many times. Mostly because Jamie’s been really insistent about it, how easy it would be. But I guess I’m sort of afraid still.”

I nodded. This, if nothing else, I could understand. There were so many levels to the unknown, from safe to dangerous to outright nebulous, scariest of all.

“You never know, though,” she said. “Maybe we can do it together. Strength in numbers and all that.”

“Maybe,” I said.

She smiled at me, a bit tentatively, then looked back at the sweaters. “Okay, now—down to business. We’re not leaving here until you have at least two new outfits. And a jacket. And new shoes.”

“Cora.”

“No arguments.” She hoisted her purse over her shoulder, then pushed on into Juniors, disappearing between two racks of jeans. After a moment, all I could see was her head bobbing in and out of the displays, her expression caught in the occasional mirror, focused and determined. At first, I stayed where I was, out in the open aisle as the salegirl passed by once more, smiling at me. But then I looked for Cora again and couldn’t spot her right away, which was enough to make me force myself forward, in after her.





Chapter Fourteen


“Wow,” Nate said. “You look great.”

This was exactly the kind of reaction I’d been hoping to avoid, especially considering Cora had assured me repeatedly that my new clothes did not necessarily look that, well, new. Apparently she was wrong.