Our Kind of Love (31 page)

Later that night, Claudia comes over to my
house. We sprawl out on my bed as she rambles on about our trip to Miami; where
we’ll be staying, and when we can go shopping for bathing suits.

“Now that you’re over your fear, I think it’s
time we get you some
skimpies
.” That’s her word for
sexy bikinis.

“I don’t feel like wearing a bikini. I don’t
want to send the wrong message to guys down in Miami,” I tell her.

She knocks my arm lightly. “It’s not even about
that. It’s about celebrating your liberation and expressing your sexuality. You
have a great bod. Flaunt it, even if you’re not single.”

 “Humph….” I mumble.

“What does that mean? Humph?”

I pick up the extra pillow and huddle it to my
stomach, muttering, “I spoke to Micah today. I think you were right about him
not coming back.”

She pushes up on her elbow and rests her head in
the palm of her hand. “I told you to forget about what I said—”

“He’s already seen Lewis, the thing is his
father’s back and he might reunite with his mother for the first time.”

“Oh, that’s…interesting. And what did you say
after hearing this?” she asks.

“I told him to take some time to think about
it.”

“True…he should. So what’s he gonna do?”

I turn my head and look up at her. “He doesn’t
think he should leave yet. Guess he’s gonna meet her after all.”

Claudia sinks down on her side. “Oh…I see why
that worries you.”

“I feel selfish, because I’m hoping he’ll stay
mad at them and leave, but at the same time…”

“You want him to be happy because you’ve noticed
something’s been missing in his life.”

I nod. “There’s definitely a missing piece in
his heart.”

After a brief pause, she squeezes my hand and
says, “Let him do this and then he’ll come back to you. I’m sure he’ll even
make it back in time for your birthday.”

I sigh and mutter under my breath, “Hope so. If
he doesn’t, then I don’t think he’s coming back.
Ever.”

Thirty
-
Five

Micah

I’VE KEPT my distance from Dad for the past few
hours so I can think long and hard about what he said about my mother. I feel
like I should just leave today, but part of me wants answers to questions I’ve
secretly asked all these years.

At the crack of dawn, I hear him banging on my
door. “Mitchel, we need to talk, son. I won’t let you take off today without
settling things.”

What the hell! He
won’t
let me take off?

Throwing the sheets off me, I spring out of bed,
haul on a tee over my sweatpants,
then
fling the door
open. “Where is she? Where has she been all my life? Why now?”

He backs up a tad with his hands raised. “She’s
going to answer all your questions when you see her.”

“So she’s been in Haxtun all this time and
hasn’t tried to see me once?”

“Mitch, please.” Dad slants and gestures toward
the living room. “You’ve been cooped up in this room all of yesterday, at least
eat something then we can talk about her.”

I pause for a fraction of a second then start
out of my room, following Dad down the hallway and over to the little dining
table.

“I remembered you didn’t really care for eggs,
so I made you bacon and toast. Is that okay?” he asks over his shoulder,
lifting a frying pan off the stove.

I nod and say dryly, “Yeah, that’s fine.” At
least he remembers something about me.

He scoops bacon onto a plate with toast and
brings it over to the table, setting it down before me.

After fixing a plate for himself, he comes and
sits down across from me. “There’s coffee in the pot, milk in the fridge.
Whichever you want, just help yourself.”

I can’t even eat, I’m so curious about her. I’ve
always been.

Dad bites into his toast and peers up at me.
“Eat something,” he urges.

“Did you know where she was all this time?” I
ask. “Did Grams?”

He places the rest of his toast back on the
plate and swallows what’s inside his mouth before answering, “I didn’t. I can’t
speak for your grams though. She kept things from me.”

“Oh gee, I wonder why,” I snort, picking up
bacon.

Dad wrinkles his forehead and glances over at
the kitchen counter, falling into deep thought. A few seconds later he mutters,
“I really let her down, huh?”

Turning his head back to me, he resumes eating
his breakfast, saying before he shoves the rest of his toast inside his mouth, “You
should bring flowers to her grave since you’re here.”

I stop eating, get up and walk over to the
coffee pot. I should do that. I felt so bad about not being at home when she
was sick that I didn’t have the courage to walk over to her gravesite when I was
released. Dad’s right about one thing, I need to bring her flowers and get that
guilt off my chest.

“Are you still leaving today?” he asks me as I
stride back to the table from pouring myself some coffee.

“I don’t know,” I tell him, sitting down.

“So, you’ll meet your mother then? I mean, you
say you want answers, and only she can give you them.”

I drink a little then put the mug down next to
my plate. “Where does she live?”

He dips his head, appearing regretful.
“She…um…only five minutes from here.”

“What?” I scoff in my amazement. “Has she always
been that close? Did you know?”

His thick brows shoot up.
“Mitch,
of course not.
I wouldn’t keep that from you.”

“Right, cause if you knew then, you would have
just dropped me back at her doorstep and get one little trouble off your hands,
huh?”

Dad scrunches up his face and falls back on the
chair, seeming exhausted. “That’s not true.”

“Seemed that way when I was a kid,” I retort,
sipping more coffee.

“I was happy to have a son, and I wanted to be a
good father to you—”

“But you just couldn’t,” I cut him off. “You had
to choose between me and the bottle. I wasn’t worth it.”

He releases a razor-sharp breath and leans
forward, resting his elbows at both sides of his plate. “I had a disease,
Mitch. I needed help. Since I’ve gotten it I’ve been a better person. All I’m
asking for is a chance to prove it.”

“Just give me her address so I can go see her.
Then I’ll be out of your hair and hers.” I finish the rest of my toast and
bring the plate over to the sink.

When I wash up and start to head down the hall
towards the bathroom, Dad calls out from the table. “I hope you’ll consider
staying. This is your home, Mitch. You belong here.”

“Maybe if Grams was still here,” I reply with my
back turned.

Dad pulls up at a light blue painted house with
white picket fence and clean-cut grass.

“This is it,” he tells me. His voice makes me
shudder, unleashing a bunch of nerves in my stomach. I can’t believe I’m
actually going to meet my mother, after so many years, I’m going to see the
face of the woman who didn’t want me.

What do I say to her? Do I even want to give her
the chance of getting to know me now? What’s the point? She’s lost nineteen
years.

Without looking at Dad, I open the car door and
step out, taking a breath before walking up to the gate.

“I’ll be here waiting,” he calls out, as if he’s
assuring me of his support. I never had it then, and I certainly don’t need it
now.

Glancing back sideways, I snort and give him the
‘really’ stare, before turning to continue up the entrance.

When I reach the red painted front door, I lift
my hand, lingering for a second before I finally knock three times. I step
back, stick my hands inside my pocket and wait.

Shortly after, the door clicks open and a girl
answers. She stares at me with curiosity in her sea blue eyes. They’re the same
shade as mine, like my mother’s.

“Can I help you?” she says, tilting her head to
the side.

“I…ahem,” I stop to clear my throat and say the
name I haven’t spoken since I was ten, since the day Dad told me in one of his
drunken episodes that she didn’t want me. “I’m looking for Karen.”

She twists and calls over her shoulder, “Mom!
Someone’s here to see you.”

“Who is it?” I hear the woman answer, her footsteps
approach from around the corner.

My whole body tenses. My heart starts to race. I
consider bolting to the car and pretend like I never came here, but when she
ambles up to the door and looks me dead in the eye, I’m crippled in spot.

“My God…” she covers her mouth with both hands
and stares at me wide-eyed.

“Mom, you okay?” asks her daughter, my sister.
“Who’s this?” She glances between me and my mother.

“Please, come inside,” Mom says, opening the
door wider. My sister steps aside so that I can enter, confusion imprinted on
her porcelain face.

I walk into the entryway and peer around. So my
mother’s been living nicely, it seems. She has a lovely home.
A family.
So why didn’t she want me?

“Would you like some coffee?” she offers.

I shake my head and say flatly, “No thanks.”

My sister is still looking from our mother to
me, trying to decipher what’s going on. She crosses her arms at her waist and
eyes me down intently.

Touching her daughter’s arm, Mom says calmly,
“Why don’t we all sit down first?” She looks at me as she adds, “Then we can
talk.”

Obediently, I follow them into the living room
and sit down on the couch, squeezing my knuckles. I’m boiling over with
questions yet I decide to be considerate of my sister who clearly doesn’t know
she has a brother.

Mom sits down in the armchair and my sister
settles on an ottoman beside her. She creases her forehead and brushes back her
long blonde hair behind her ears, crossing one leg over the other.

“Okay, what’s going on?” she asks, her soft
voice laced with concern.

“Cassie, this is Mitchel,” Mom introduces. “He’s
my son…your brother.”

My sister raises her thin brows and angles her
head in wonder. “Brother? How can that be?”

Glancing at Cassie, Mom explains, “I had Mitchel
before meeting your father.” She looks back at me as she continues, “I wasn’t
in a position where I could take care of you, that’s why I gave you to your
father and grandmother.”

“But why didn’t you ever come see me? Why did
you wait all these years to reach out?” I ask sharply.

She shakes her head, remorseful. “You looked so
happy with your grams. She loved you and took much better care of you than I
could…I just…I didn’t want to interrupt your lives and take you away from her.”

I run my hand through my hair, displeased with
her answer. “So, you pretended I was never born then went and marry, not to
mention had a daughter, yet you couldn’t even bring yourself to see me once?
You didn’t have to come get me. I was fine with my grandmother. But at least
just to see me, so I’d know what you look like or to tell me that it’s not
because you didn’t want me.”