Solstice (30 page)

T
he day after Councilman Rendon’s death on national news, school is canceled. Crews have been cleaning up the city nonstop, but for the day, there is not supposed to be any travel to or from Chloe’s dome. We text back and forth a couple times, and it’s weird because she doesn’t even remember the hurricane. She just claims she’s tired, that she’ll see me tomorrow at school. She acts like she didn’t ask me to leave.

When I look outside the Botanical Haven, the Global Heating Crisis is back in full force. Temperatures are over one hundred and eight, and my mom’s been called in for an emergency city council meeting.

“Don’t let them elect you to be head of the council,” I say because I’m trying to gauge her reaction. Is she still convinced we’ll be moving? Since the hurricane and Councilman Rendon dying, she hasn’t mentioned my father.

“That is one thing you’ll never have to worry about.” Which I know is true. The head of the council gets far too much publicity.

My mom gives me a kiss on the forehead and makes me promise to lock the door behind her. She leaves, and I lock the door. I text Chloe again, but she sends me a text that stops me short.

“have a date. tell u about it l8r. ttyl”

A date? She can’t be with Reese. My fingers hover over the keypad, but I can’t bring myself to respond. Has Chloe been seeing Reese, and I’ve been too caught up in my own world to notice? I start and stop typing five times, and then give up entirely. Chloe and I need to have a long conversation. But I can’t do it if she’s with Reese. So I grab my tablet and pretend to read for the rest of the day even though my mind doesn’t focus on a single word. Chloe and Reese. I try to put it out of my mind.

My mom finally gets home close to five.

“They’re taking down the domes,” she says.

“Taking them down?”

“Deconstruction will start this weekend.” She walks upstairs and I follow her.

“Why?” I ask.

My mother almost smiles when she answers. “Some underground terrorist group delivered a threat. Said if the council didn’t stop destroying the atmosphere, they’d blow up the dome structure.”

I put this together in my mind. “So instead of waiting for the domes to be blown up, the city’s taking them apart first.”

My mom nods.

“What about the missiles?” I ask. If a terrorist group is against the domes, then they’re certainly against the missiles.

My mom grabs her hairbrush and starts pulling it through her dark hair. She brushes it first behind both ears, then only behind one.

“The missiles will still be on standby,” she says.

My mom fiddles with her hair some more and then moves to her jewelry box and pulls out a necklace I’ve never seen her wear.

“Are you going somewhere, Mom?”

She clasps the necklace and turns to face me. “How does it look?”

It’s a leaf with glittering green gems sparkling against her skin. “Gorgeous,” I say.

She gives herself one more look in the mirror and then turns to me. “Get ready.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going out for barbeque, Piper.”

My mom hates barbeque. She doesn’t eat meat. And we almost never go out. I tilt my head, trying to read her expression.

“Mom?”

Her eyes look past me. “What?”

“You hate barbeque.”

Her face is a mask, but there’s a certain light in it I never see. “So tonight I’ve changed my mind.”

I bite my lip while looking for more in her face. But there’s nothing there. Nothing she is willing to let me see. “Okay. Barbeque. Who with?”

My mom arranges the jewelry and bottles on her counter and then finally looks at me. “Your father, Piper. He can’t wait to meet you.”

Everything my mom’s ever told me about my dad starts spiraling around in my head. Because if he’s such a bad person, why is she bringing me to meet him now?

When we walk into Pok-E-Jo’s barbeque, the overwhelming aroma of smoked meat hits me; I focus on it to keep my mind off how nervous I am. I’m going to finally meet my father—something I’ve dreamed of since I was a little girl. And now it’s really going to happen. I close my eyes and suck in the smell, picking out the sausage, the brisket, and even the macaroni and cheese from the air.

I look over at my mom and see her nose is wrinkled up.

“Don’t you even like the smell, Mom?” I ask because I need to say something. My stomach is a ball of lead inside me.

“I had a bad experience with meat once,” she says. And I wonder if she’s as nervous as I am.

It’s dark already, and every single booth is taken. My heart skips a few beats as I scan the room, wondering if I can pick out my dad. My eyes settle on a man with a receding hairline and a pair of bright blue eyes staring at me. His hair is spiked and blond and looks like he should wear a hat to keep his scalp from burning. Even with his retreating hairline, he hardly looks thirty.

I turn to my mom and see she’s gazing at him, also. The ball in my stomach turns into an iron fist which begins to tighten. My father. The man sitting in the booth is my father. The lines of his face are familiar because they match my own. I open my mouth to say something, but my throat constricts.

My mom puts up her hand. “Let’s just get our food and sit down. The sooner we get this over with the better.”

I nod, not that I want to get the meal over with. After eighteen years of not even knowing who my dad is, I don’t want to rush the meal. I have a father, and he’s sitting in a booth waiting for me. He doesn’t look like a terrorist or a criminal. And he doesn’t look like a kidnapper either.

I manage to walk through the line, ordering my food without even thinking. My mom orders only a salad, holding my arm at the elbow the whole time. Like she’s afraid my dad’s going to snatch me away or something. It makes me feel like I’m five years old all over again.

I scoot into the booth, across from my father, and my mom slides in next to me. The red vinyl crunches under my legs as I cross them, and already I can feel it sticking to me and sweat forming. If the restaurant has eco A/C, they aren’t using it. Or maybe I’m just nervous. Or both.

My father looks over and cracks a grin which reaches far up his forehead. “You like the heat, Piper?”

It seems a funny question to be the first words spoken between my dad and me—simple chitchat about the weather.

I nod. “Yeah. I do. The hotter the better.” I reach across the table for the barbeque sauce. The sausage here is too dry without it. My hands shake, but I don’t want him to see I’m nervous. I want him to think I’m brave and independent and someone he should be proud of.

My father smiles. “Now that sounds like a daughter of mine.” He grabs a different bottle and passes it over to me. “Here, try this instead. It’s my own special blend.”

Before I can reach for it, my mom’s hand shoots out and grabs the bottle. “No.”

My mouth drops open. It’s barbeque sauce. What’s the big deal?

I watch my parents—my father raises an eyebrow and looks at my mom. She stares back, and it’s like she’s trying to shoot arrows out of her eyes. They stay there, locked in silent combat until finally my mother speaks.

“Piper doesn’t need anything from you,” my mom says.

My father inclines his head. “And what does Piper need from you? Let’s answer that question first.”

My mom’s eyes flash. “I have given Piper everything she’s needed. For eighteen years, I’ve been more than she could ever hope for.”

His eyes shift to me. “And maybe more than she wants. Too much if I could venture a guess.”

It’s like he can pick the memories of my oppressed life right from my mind. But I’m not opening my mouth to agree or disagree.

“Piper loves me.”

A smile breaks onto his face. “And Piper will love me, too.” He places one of his hands on my mom’s. “Piper can try the sauce, darling Lucia.”

And just like that my mom relents.

It’s rare I hear my mom’s real name. I never call her anything other than Mom, and we’re so seldom around people when we’re together. Lucia. It seems way old-fashioned and almost foreign. And I wonder where my parents met.

I take the bottle of sauce and dump it over the sausage and brisket, letting it spill so some dribbles into the casserole. My stomach is clenched hard again, but the sauce smells like ambrosia laced with pepper. I know I’ll love it because when it comes to sauce, hotter is better.

“Thanks.” I cut a piece of meat and put it to my lips, inhaling the fat and smoke blended together.

“You can’t buy sauce like this anywhere,” my father says. “I make it myself.”

I nod. “It’s really good.” There are at least three kinds of peppers in it. Habañero. Chipotle. And something else I can’t identify.

He leans forward onto his elbows and stares at me. “So this is the daughter who’s been hidden from me her whole life.”

Inadvertently, I lean back.

“What kind of father would you have been anyway?” my mom says. Unlike me, her posture matches his. She leans forward and fixes her eyes on him.

I look at my father. White blond hair gelled upward. Led Zeppelin T-shirt with a splotch of barbeque sauce on it. Three-meat platter in front of him. On first glance, it seems to me he’d be a lot more fun as a parent than my mom.

My father holds my mom with his gaze. “Well, for starters, I would let Piper have her own place in the world.”

Next to me, my mom shudders. “Piper’s place is with me.”

My dad stays forward, holding his pose and my mom’s attention. They battle back and forth with their eyes, and silence is their battleground. I chew slowly, thinking I shouldn’t draw attention to myself even though I am the center of attention. After an eternity, my father sits back and looks to me. “So, Piper, tell me about yourself.”

I force myself to laugh, though my muscles are rigid. I’m clenching my fork, so I set it down and think about the difference two weeks can make. If my father had asked me this question two weeks ago, I’d have given some pretty boring answers. Still, I’m not about to spill on my date with Reese and my journeys to the Underworld.

“Oh, you know,” I say.

His smile encourages me. “No. I don’t. But I’d like to.”

I grab my spoon and scoop up some green bean casserole but don’t eat it yet. “Well, I’m eighteen. I’m a senior. I have a best friend.”

“Eighteen, huh?”

I nod, eating the casserole.

He looks to my mom. “And I see you have a tattoo.”

“I got it a week ago.” I hold out my arm so he can see my left bicep.

He raises his eyebrows when he reads it. “Sacrifice.”

Again, I realize everyone knows Ancient Greek except me.

He reaches across the table to touch it. “It’s fading.”

I nod. “I think the artist may have messed up. I may have to get it reinked.” But my stomach clenches when I say it. I know the fading has nothing to do with the ink and everything to do with Chloe almost dying. I decide not to try to revive it in front of my mom and my father.

My father pulls up the sleeve on his T-shirt. “I have a tattoo, also.”

That’s putting it mildly. I lean over to get a better look. It looks like every natural disaster possible has been inked on his shoulder. There are cosmic reds and greens and bright yellows, blended together into a pattern which almost seems to shift and change in front of my eyes.

“Wow. It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

He nods and rolls his sleeve back down. “Thank you, Piper.” And he winks at me.

“Did you get it in prison?” I ask because Chloe’s brother told us about all the people who get tattoos in prison.

He raises an eyebrow and looks sideways at my mom. “Prison?”

My mom remains silent.

“I thought you were in prison,” I say. “That you caused the water still explosion out west and you got caught.”

My father actually laughs. I think most people would be furious at an accusation like this, but he laughs. “And let me guess, your mother told you that.”

My mom twists up her face. “Well, what was I supposed to tell her? That you didn’t have time to raise a daughter?”

“You can tell her what you like, Lucia. I’m sure Piper will find the truth on her own.”

I know in that instant everything my mom’s told me about my dad is a lie.

Next to me, my mom slams her fork on the plate. It clatters like a bell, such that, four tables over, people turn and look. “Are we done here yet?”

“Done?” My father laughs. “I’m only getting started. So tell me, Piper, do you have a boyfriend?”

I almost drop my spoon at the question, catching it before it lands on my lap. But I do manage to get a giant drop of sauce on my leg. I wipe it off, licking my finger.

“Piper does not have a boyfriend.” My mom answers for me.

I open my mouth to protest but then stop. I have Shayne, and then there’s Reese. But neither of them are appropriate conversations to have given the present company. So instead, I nod. “Right. No boyfriend.” I glance over sideways at my mom who smiles like a fox that’s gotten away.

“Oh, come on now. A pretty girl like you? Certainly you have young men declaring their undying love for you every day.” And his blue steel eyes meet mine and hold them.

My heart begins to pound; I feel it in my temples. But I hold my face steady and force a smile to my lips. “Only in my daydreams.”

He grins, and I feel like we’ve shared some secret. A secret even I don’t know. “Well, you have your whole life ahead of you.” He grabs his beer bottle and lifts it to his mouth, drinking the remainder down in one large swallow. Even though I don’t drink beer, it’s still impressive.

“Piper has no need for boyfriends.” My mom spears a cherry tomato with her fork and puts it in her mouth whole. She chews it, and we both watch her, waiting until she’s finished. “We have each other and that’s all we’ll ever need.”

My father slaps the table, causing the plates to rattle against the silverware. “Nonsense. Piper, how would you like to come stay with me for a few months?”

My mom rockets up out of her seat. “How dare you? Piper is not going to stay with you.”

My father looks at her, commanding her to sit down with his eyes. She glares at him but settles back into the booth.