Hummingbird Heart (6 page)

We'd been sitting on a basement couch talking for what felt like hours but was probably only about ten minutes. So far, I'd learned that Jax had moved here from Campbell River, that he had one older brother, that he listened to music that I'd never heard of, and that he used to be really into wrestling but had quit last year.

I hadn't told him much about myself. I was worried I'd say the wrong thing. A couple of times I'd thought he might try to kiss me, but so far he hadn't. I wondered if I'd been imagining things, or misreading them. I couldn't decide if I wanted him to or not.

I'd never actually had an official boyfriend. Things always seemed to get messed up once that friendship line got crossed.

I took another drag on the disappearing joint, feeling the heat on my fingertips where they pinched the paper. “My mom smokes up all the time,” I told him, leaning away from him on the couch.

“Your mom?” He laughed. “No way.”

“Well, not all the time. Not that much, really, anymore. But she was a total pothead, back when I was a kid.”

“Wow. My parents are as straight as they come.”

“You're lucky.” I passed the joint back to him.

“Nah. They're uptight.” Jax took a deep hit, and spoke, still holding the smoke in. “They could use a little chemical help.”

“My mother's actually okay with me smoking pot occasionally. She says it's no big deal.”

He put his hand over mine and met my eyes. “And your dad?”

“Um, my dad?”

“Yeah. Where does he stand on all that?”

“I don't know,” I said. “He lives back east. But…” The words were out of my mouth before I had time to think about them. “He's in town for a visit this week.”

“They're divorced, your folks?”

“Something like that.”

There was a silence. “Dylan…” Jax cleared his throat. “I did actually know your name, you know.”

“You did?”

“I asked someone who you were. Right after that first class I saw you in.”

“You did?” I said again.

His hand tightened over mine. “Anyone ever tell you that you've got great eyes?”

“I don't.” I dropped my gaze, squirming inside but trying not to show it.

He let go of my hand, put a couple of fingers under my chin and lifted my face so that I had to look at him. “You do. They're a wild color. Kind of turquoise.”

“I like brown eyes better,” I told him. I could feel myself blushing.

Jax started to lean toward me.

“Hey, you two,” a voice said.

I startled and pulled away. “Toni!”

“Sorry.” Toni had a big grin on her face. “Bad timing?”

“No, no. It's fine.” I was actually sort of relieved. I looked at Jax. “You two know each other, right?”

“I don't think we've actually met.” Jax didn't bother to introduce himself.

Nor did Toni. “Look, Dylan, we should head out,” she said. “You're supposed to be home by one, right?”

“Technically, but it's sort of flexible.” I looked at my watch. Almost two. “Jeez. Not that flexible.” I looked at Jax, feeling confused. “I guess I'll see you at school.”

“Maybe we can get together sometime this week.” He reached for his phone. “Unless you're too busy. With your dad visiting, I mean.”

Toni stared. “Your dad visiting,” she echoed.

I shot her a look, silently begging her not to say anything. Jax and I exchanged numbers. Then I followed Toni upstairs and out of the house into the cold night air.

“What the hell?” Toni asked. “Your dad visiting? What was that about?”

I felt a little sick and wished I hadn't had those coolers. Or the pot. Or the beer.

“If you didn't want to see Jax, you could have just said so. You didn't need to make up some bullshit excuse.” Toni watched me. “But I thought you had a crush on him.”

“I did. I do.” I shook my head. “I wasn't exactly making it up. I mean, I don't know why I said it. But the thing is, he called. Sperm-donor guy.”

Toni stared. “You're kidding. When?”

“Um, yesterday morning? But Mom just told me last night.”

There was a long, heavy pause. “Why didn't you tell me?” Toni finally asked.

“I don't know. I wanted to, sort of. It's just hard to talk about it.”

“Didn't seem like you had any trouble talking about it with Jax.”

I felt a wave of guilt, followed almost immediately by a flicker of defensive anger. I wouldn't have been talking to Jax if she hadn't taken off with Finn the way she always did. I opened my mouth and closed it again. I didn't want to fight with Toni. We never used to fight, but lately it seemed we were often teetering on the brink of an argument.

Toni zipped up her hoodie and shoved her hands in her pockets. “I can't believe that you've known about this since yesterday and didn't even tell me. And then you go and tell a guy you hardly even know.”

“I don't know why I did that.” I could hear my voice echoing in my head.
He's coming out to visit this week.
The words had just come spilling out. Did that mean I'd decided to meet him?

I looked at Toni's face. She looked hurt, not angry. “Toni. I told Jax my dad was coming. My
dad.
I mean, I've never thought of him that way. But I guess, you know, he is. Right?”

“Sure. I guess, in the biological sense.”

“I have to tell my mom if I want to meet him or not.”

We looked at each other for a long moment. When Toni answered, her voice was slow and careful. “What are you going to do?”

I looked away, down the wide street, past all the old houses with their faded paint, past the treed lawns and the crooked fences. I wondered where Mark lived now, whether he was still in Ontario. I hadn't asked Mom. “If I say no, I might never hear from him again.”

“So, you'll meet him?”

Over Toni's shoulder, a slender crescent moon shone through thin streaky clouds. It seemed so precarious, suspended in space like that. One big meteor could take it right out and we'd have tidal waves, floods and god knew what else. The human race would be history. I swallowed hard and felt a familiar sharp ache in my throat. “Yeah,” I said. “I guess I will.”

e
IGHT

I woke up feeling tired and heavy, as if gravity had doubled overnight. I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled downstairs. I was hungover from those awful blue coolers. Probably the dye and the chemicals as much as the alcohol.

Karma was sitting on the couch doing homework. She looked up as I entered the room and widened her eyes. “You were way late last night. Amanda's mad.”

I could hear Mom banging pots around in the kitchen. “What's she doing in there?”

“Trying to wake you up, I guess.”

I made a face. “Passive-aggressive.”

Karma shrugged.

I hadn't got home until after two, which was well past the agreed-upon time. Mom didn't call it a curfew—too military, she said. Still, I knew she'd be pissed off. I stepped into the kitchen and watched her pour coffee beans into the grinder and switch it on.

“If you're trying to wake me, I'm already up.”

She took her finger off the coffee-grinder button and raised her eyebrows. “Well, not even nine o'clock and look at you. Did you just decide it was so late that you might as well stay up?”

“I couldn't sleep anymore.”

“Are you all right? Did something happen at the party?”

“No. I was just thinking about Mark. You know. I think I should meet him.”

Her face froze, lips slightly parted, eyes wide, and for a second she looked almost scared. She turned away from me, grinding the coffee beans for a few seconds before responding. “Are you sure you want to do that?” she asked, her back still turned, her voice level.

“Yeah. I'm sure.” I stared at her. “You don't want me to, do you? Why not?”

“It's entirely up to you.”

Liar. It was so obvious she was hoping I'd decide not to. Well, too bad. She'd never been willing to tell me anything about him. I let out a long shaky breath. “Well, okay. I guess I should call him.”

Mom poured the coffee into the filter before realizing it wasn't completely ground. She swore under her breath and started spooning it back out again. “It's up to you, like I said. But…honestly, Dylan, are you sure you want to do this?”

I nodded.

“I'll call him,” she said. “Let me talk to him first.”

“Okay, but I want to meet him on my own.”

“You do? Why?” She still wasn't looking at me.

“Just do. Can you call him now? Please?”

The phone rang. I hesitated, looking at Mom, wondering if she was thinking the same thing—Mark? She picked it up. “Hello?”

I waited impatiently.

“It's Scott,” she mouthed. She turned away from me and spoke into the phone. “How's it going?”

I stood there for a moment and watched in disbelief as Mom went on casually chatting as if we hadn't been about to make practically the most important phone call of my entire life. Then I ran up to my room and banged the door closed behind me.

I didn't see why I had to wait for my mom to call Mark. Besides, what if she talked to him first and decided not to let me meet him? He was
my
father, after all. I was the one he wanted to see. I'd call him myself if I knew where he was.

MW
,
Ocean Front Inn,
214
.
Mom's little note in her sketchbook. It had to be him. I'd put money on it. I could just pick up the phone and…

What would I say though? What if he didn't know who I was and I had to explain? Should I say I was his daughter? Or was that…presumptuous? He might not think of me that way. Maybe I should just say I was Amanda's daughter.

I looked up the Ocean Front Inn and stared at the phone number on the screen for a long minute. Finally I picked up my cell phone and managed to dial the first three digits before I lost my nerve and pressed End. Maybe I should just wait and let Mom do it after all. I eyed my closed bedroom door. Two minutes, I decided. I'd let fate decide. If Mom was off the phone, I'd go downstairs and let her call. But if Mom was still on the phone in two minutes, I'd call him myself.

Two minutes passed slowly, and my anxiety kept building. I wished I'd said five minutes, but it was too late to change it now. I didn't know why I made up all these stupid bargains with myself, but I couldn't help it. It was something I'd always done.

One of my earliest memories was being in the backseat of the car and counting telephone poles as they flashed past, telling myself that if I counted a hundred poles before we got home, the world wouldn't end before I grew up. I mean, I know that made no sense. I think I even knew it at the time, even though I was only a little kid. But the reason I remembered it so clearly was that it felt so real and so true, and when we pulled into our driveway after only ninety-two poles, I was a mess. The world was going to end and it was my fault.

I guess most kids do stuff like that. I'd just never outgrown it.

When two minutes were up, I opened my door and listened. Amanda's laughter echoed up the stairs. Still on the phone with Scott. I picked up my cell and dialed the number. A man answered and quickly transferred the call to room 214. Mark's room. No questions. Somehow I had almost expected to be asked who I was or what I wanted. The phone rang again, and I held my breath.

“Hello?”

“Is that Mark?”

His voice was guarded. “Yes, it is.”

My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my head, the pulse pounding at my temples. “This is Dylan,” I said. “Amanda Jarvis is my mother.”

There was a long pause. Then Mark spoke. “I'm so glad to hear from you.”

He sounded like a movie actor—sort of relaxed and yet very clear, every word perfectly enunciated. I could hear the smile in his voice. Something else too, some emotion I couldn't identify. Relief, maybe? I let out a long breath and relaxed my fingers on the phone. “I was glad you called. I would really like to meet you.”

“Great. That's wonderful.”

My bedroom door opened. “Dylan?” Mom looked at me, eyebrows arched questioningly.

“Just a moment,” I told Mark. I put my hand over the phone and turned toward her. “I called him.”

Her face went chalk-white. She slowly lowered herself to sit on the edge of my bed.

“Dylan?” Mark was saying. “Can I speak to your mother? Is she there?”

I hesitated, feeling an odd reluctance to hand the phone over. I didn't want my mother taking charge, didn't like the reminder that she and Mark had this connection to each other—this relationship, this past—that excluded me. I tried to keep my voice level. “Sure. She's right here.” I handed the phone to my mother and stood there listening while the two of them talked.