Little Do We Know(87)

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“Where do you think?”

She walked toward the other side of the kitchen, clutching her head, and then returned to me. “What happened then?”

“Nothing. I went to my room and that was the end of it. He didn’t follow me. He hasn’t done anything since. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?” Mascara was streaming down Mom’s face.

“Seriously. I wasn’t even going to tell you. It happened, and I’m fine, and it’s over.” I wrapped my hands around her arms. “You’re so happy now and I don’t want you to be sad again….” All the color drained from her face, and I wished I hadn’t said anything. “Forget it, Mom. Please.”

She took off for the bathroom. I could hear her throwing up, flushing the toilet, running the water.

She was gone for a long time, and when she finally came back to the kitchen, her eyes were puffy and red, and her hair was pulled back in a clip. She looked horrible, and I felt even worse.

“I’m sorry I’m not handling this very well,” she said.

“You’re handling it fine. Look, I didn’t even want to tell you, but I figured you should know. And now you do. So this can all be over. I’ll move out when school starts in August, and you can move into David’s loft like you planned, and we can just forget this ever happened, okay? We’ll never talk about it again. I thought you should know, that’s all.”

Mom pulled me into her, and I inhaled that scent that was so uniquely her and always made me feel safe. When she pulled away, she took my face in her hands. “I love you more than anything in this world. You know that, right?”

I nodded.

“More than anything in this world.” She repeated it for emphasis.

She stood there for a long time, like she was trying to figure out what to say next. Her bottom lip started trembling and she bit down on it hard.

“I’m glad you told me.”

I nodded again.

“You did the right thing.”

“Did I?” I asked, because it sure didn’t feel like it.

“You did,” she said, but she looked like she was barely holding it together. “I need to be alone. Is that okay with you?”

I didn’t know what else to do, so I nodded again.

And Mom went into her room and shut the door.





I was out on the back deck, sitting on the top step. I’d been there for at least a half hour. It made me feel closer to Emory. But it had been too quiet on her side of the grass, and I was starting to wonder if she’d changed her mind about telling her mom.

I heard the screen door open and close behind me. I didn’t move.

“Hey. What are you doing out here?” Dad asked.

“Thinking.”

“About what?” He sat next to me.

“Everything,” I said. “Mostly you.”

“Funny,” Dad said. “I’ve been inside praying. Mostly about you.”

I looked at him. “About me? Why?” I didn’t need his prayers. Emory did. Of course, he had no way of knowing that.

He turned sideways and leaned back against the post, bending one knee, facing me.

“Well,” he began, “I was praying for guidance. Praying for God to give me the right words to say to you. Praying that you’d hear them, and understand, and maybe even forgive me for what I did. And I was praying that you’d find the words you needed to say to me, too. And that you’d know how important it is to say them, whatever they are.”

I smiled up at him. “That’s a lot of stuff for one prayer.”

He smiled back. “I like to be efficient. You know, knock it all out at once.” He punched the air with his fist.

Even after everything he’d done, a big part of me was struggling to stay angry at him. I didn’t want to be mad anymore. I still loved him fiercely, despite how clear his flaws had become.

“I have a lot to say to you,” he said.

“I have a lot to say to you, too.”

“Can I start?” he asked, and I nodded, grateful for the extra time to pull my thoughts together.

He shifted in place and looked around, like he needed a little extra time to collect himself.

“I made a mistake,” he said with a big exhale. “Actually, I made a bunch of mistakes, starting with your college fund. I blew it. And then I tried to fix it. I thought I was doing it for you.” He paused and looked around again, like he was searching the yard, hoping to find the words he needed in the trees and flower beds. “I don’t know what it is, Hannah. When it comes to you, I don’t always see the big picture. I get singularly focused on making things right for you, regardless of the consequences.”

It reminded me of what Emory had said that day we fought. “You have a blind spot when it comes to your dad.” It hadn’t occurred to me that he also had something of a blind spot when it came to me.

“I was trying to make you happy,” he continued. “But I kept making it worse. And then, I didn’t know how to unravel all the knots I’d made along the way. It was wrong of me to share Luke’s video. I told myself I was helping him, helping you, and helping the school, all at the same time. But that wasn’t fair to him….He didn’t want any of this.”