Taking Flight (27 page)

I stiffened, and she deflated, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Lauren. I didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, you did.” I stared at her, my gaze hardened. “You’re right. My dad and I didn’t spend weekends going out to dinner together or playing video games or watching sports or going shopping. He didn’t wake me up in a dorky tennis outfit and buy me milkshakes. But your dad does. And you’re
so
lucky to have that. I know you’re used to sharing him, and I know that’s not easy. But even if he’s missing some details about your life here and there, he cares a lot about you. You should give him a chance and be honest with him.
I
did.”

She didn’t respond. I moved to change into my pajamas and then sank underneath the covers of my bed, letting out a deep, slow breath. Scott’s angry gaze came to mind every time I shut my eyes, and it took me hours to finally fall asleep.

Chapter Nineteen

Pastor McKinley wasn’t at church the following Sunday.

Instead, Cammie and I were greeted by Pastor Jenkins, a younger, even dorkier-looking guy I was instantly annoyed by. If McKinley was vaguely aggravating, this guy was intolerable. He was far too excited and upbeat, and he made it hard to sleep through his little lecture. At least when McKinley droned on about crap I didn’t care about, it was easy to tune him out.

After a long three or so hours, we met back up with David and Wendy and drove to our usual lunch spot. On our way there, I asked Cammie, “So what was up with the new guy? I don’t like him.”

“You didn’t like McKinley, either,” she pointed out, but frowned nonetheless. “I don’t know, though. Maybe he took a week off?”

“Seems like something the other guy should’ve explained,” I said.

Wendy was stiff in the passenger’s seat in front of us, and David changed the subject.

“So I hear there’s a new family lunch package we could try out. Four orders for just $35, plus a free desert. Not a bad deal, huh?”

“You sound like such an old person,” I told him, grinning, but Cammie was still stuck on McKinley.

“That was really weird, though, wasn’t it?” she asked, looking thoughtful. “Usually if he takes a week off we have someone introduced as a guest and the guest explains why they’re here instead of Pastor McKinley. I think this guy’s just replaced him, and they didn’t mention him at all…”

“Honey, this isn’t polite conversation,” Wendy cut in, her tone clipped. I glanced from her to David as the two of them exchanged looks up front. Then I shot Cammie a strange look. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and I knew she’d seen her parents’ reactions too.

“Did something happen to him, Dad?” she asked.

David hesitated. “I think perhaps the church wanted a fresh face. Pastor McKinley was getting a bit old to be interacting with and trying to relate to young children.”

“He was only in his thirties,” Cammie argued. “And he has kids. He was nice;
I
liked him. What really happened?”

“He was caught with someone he shouldn’t have been with,” Wendy cut in abruptly. “The church felt it was necessary to cut ties with him.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, but Cammie shook her head.

“Didn’t he and his wife separate over a year ago?” She looked appalled. “Wait, was he with a
kid
?”

“Well, he may as well have been,” Wendy bit out. “He was with another man. It’s no wonder he was fired; he’s meant to spend hours alone with kids every Sunday.”

David looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here right now. I felt my face heat up. “Are you serious? Gay people aren’t automatically pedophiles.”

Wendy turned away to look out her window, sighing deeply. “I suppose you’d say that, with the liberal education you received back in that terrible state. I encountered the same sort of agenda back in college.”

Wide-eyed, I glanced to Cammie, expecting her to look just as shocked by the things her mother was saying. Instead, she swallowed hard, her eyes fixed pointedly to her lap.

“You’re crazy,” I told Wendy promptly. “Wow. Your fucked up family makes
so
much sense now.”

“We’re here,” David announced abruptly as Wendy’s face reddened to match mine.

“Excuse me?” she asked me, her voice high and sickeningly sweet. David parked the car and immediately got out and came to my door, yanking it open.

“Lauren, out,” he demanded, and I followed his orders with malice. He shut the door behind me and guided me away from the car by my arm.

“You put up with that,” I deadpanned. “You’re just as bad as she is if you let her say stuff like that around her kids.”

David paused and released my arm once we’d put enough distance between ourselves and the car. “Wendy is misguided, but she’s a good mother. Don’t think you can judge her based on one belief she holds.”

“She loves her children conditionally. That’s not being a good parent.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Believe me, I know a bad parent when I see one, and you’re just as bad for letting her get away with that shit.”

“You’ve been here a few months, Lauren. You may be a part of our family while you’re here, but don’t think you know everything about how I do my job as a father.”

“A-plus fathering, then,” I bit out. “Your son’s off getting a girl pregnant when he isn’t ready after a wedding he didn’t wanna have, and it’s a miracle your daughter doesn’t hate herself. I’m
so
jealous I wasn’t born into this family. Hell, my drunk dad back in Los Angeles is ten times better than this. You don’t communicate with your fucking
kids
, and neither did he, but at least I can be honest with him.”

He turned away from me and let out a deep breath. Yards away, Wendy and Cammie left the car, and Wendy pulled Cammie into the restaurant by the hand. I watched David as he took a seat on the curb.

“Scott doesn’t love Jill,” he said at last, as though his world was crashing down around him. “I didn’t know that.”

“No, he loves her,” I corrected. “But as it turns out, getting married and having kids at age twenty wasn’t his dream. Shocker.”

“He never complained,” David murmured, almost thoughtfully.

“Well I know
that’s
how I determine what my kids want to do with their lives,” I mused sarcastically. “If they don’t complain, they must love the idea.”

“I was busy with Cammie,” he admitted. “I was
too
busy with Cammie and I didn’t pay close attention with Scott.”

“No, you were too busy with me,” I corrected. “And the other kids before me.” I took a seat next to him. “You know a lot about me now. And… I do feel included by you.” I paused. “But did you know Cammie’s an amazing artist?”

He raised his head to look back at me, eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t.”

“She draws New York obsessively. She wants to live there so badly. She doesn’t want to stay here; she wants to go to art school there and she applied without telling you, but she doesn’t plan on going because she doesn’t want to disappoint her mother. And I don’t know if she wants kids, but she certainly doesn’t talk about how much she
does
want them. She doesn’t really like cheerleading, and she never liked Peter, although at least you picked up on that last one.” I paused. “And I shouldn’t be telling you all of this. You should hear it from her.”

He didn’t respond, and I chewed at my lip for a moment, almost certain that if I hadn’t indirectly outed Cammie before by being so close with her, I most certainly had now. I closed my eyes, sighed, and pressed on.

“Why would you let Wendy make comments like that? I know you don’t agree with her.”

“I don’t,” he said immediately.

“Don’t let her or don’t agree?”

“Both. I try to keep the subject out of conversation altogether because I don’t think we’ll ever agree.”

“Maybe if you talked to her—”

“Oh, believe me, I’ve tried,” he cut in. “As early as college, when we were dating. I remember we’d have discussions about potentially getting married and then having a gay child. She believed as long as we raised our children right and taught them that homosexuality was wrong, we’d have nothing to worry about. Obviously I disagreed. I guess I just let the subject die, eventually.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I guess… subconsciously, I just hedged my bets that it would never truly be an issue.” He hesitated, and then added, “Around the time Cammie was eight, I realized I might’ve been wrong. But then she grew up, started showing an interest in boys… and that worry went away, even despite the fact that she didn’t seem to like Peter very much. But now that’s over, and there’s you.” He let out a deep sigh. “And here we are.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Even though he seemed to have more than an inkling that Cammie was gay already, I didn’t want to confirm it for him. That was her
right, not mine.

“You should talk to her, not me,” I told him. “I’ll be okay. I don’t have long left here. I can ignore Wendy and then get on with my life; I don’t have to get along with her. Cammie’s her daughter, though, and she cares
a lot
about what she thinks.”

“Enough to date someone she wasn’t interested in,” he realized.

I glanced over my shoulder, toward the restaurant’s entrance. I felt guilty about everything I’d shared with him, and the last thing I wanted to do was give him any more information he should’ve been hearing from Cammie instead. “Talk to her,” I told him, and then stood up and turned to head inside.

*  *  *

The lunch was mostly silent. I sat beside Cammie and tried to reach for her hand at one point, but she moved it away the second I made contact. I realized pretty quickly what was happening. Cammie and David had something in common: the longer Wendy went without reminding them of her bigotry, the more they relaxed and tried to forget about it. With Cammie’s default setting for the past few years already being at “sleeping with boys”, there was no way she was getting anywhere near me in front of her mother now. I understood, but it still made me feel like crap.

When we got home, I wandered out to the stables alone. I had nothing to say to David anymore, and I wasn’t in the mood to be anywhere near Cammie or Wendy.

I went to Aerosmith’s stall and leaned over, resting my arms on the door and watching him for a little while. He snorted at my face and then stared back.

“I’m sorry I called you an alien,” I told him, reaching out to scratch at his face. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “I’m also sorry that you’ve seen some shit out in that clearing. We didn’t have anywhere else to go. Just try to block it out; you can do it.”

He let out another slow breath, eyes still closed, and I nodded at him.

“There you go.”

I stood with him for a long time, an odd, almost nauseas feeling in my stomach. I hoped Cammie wouldn’t hate me for what I’d told her father.

She joined me a half-hour later, coming out in a heavy coat with the hood up. She eyed me in my church outfit and asked, “Aren’t you freezing?”

“I forgot it was cold,” I admitted. “Been distracted.”

She sighed and stepped closer. “I don’t hate you. I had a long time to be honest with him before you showed up.”

“It should’ve happened on your terms,” I insisted. “But everything just sort of came out. He looked so defeated.”

There was a long silence, and she stepped closer and reached for my hand. “I told him about us.”

I looked to her sharply. She smiled at me as I asked, “What?”

“He already knew, but… I got to say it. And he was okay with it. Well, in front of me, anyway. He’s probably in there freaking out now, but that could be because you’re his patient. I told him about Scott’s reaction, too, and he thinks he’ll get over it.” She looked down to her feet and bit at her lip. “He also said I could go to New York if I wanted. But I think that pretty much everything he’s okay with would make my mom hate me if I followed through. I don’t know if I can deal with that. Losing a mother.”

I watched her as she turned toward Aerosmith and reached out to pat him on the head. There wasn’t much I could say to that. I knew firsthand how hard it was to lose a mother, and mine hadn’t been around even before she’d died. Wendy and Cammie were very close, even if their relationship had been built on the foundation of a feigned personality on Cammie’s part. Wendy was still her mother, and I couldn’t ask Cammie to choose me over her.

So I didn’t know what to tell her. She was faced with a choice I’d never had to make.

She kept her eyes on Aerosmith as she told me, “I’ve never seen my dad cry before today. He kept apologizing and talking about how he might not take in another kid after you so he can focus on being a better parent to me.” She withdrew her hand and turned to me. “You did that. I never thought I’d hear him say that. He loves his job so much, and the rest of us tried to hide how uncomfortable it made us because we could see that it made him happy and that it was making a difference. Is it wrong that I’d be glad to see him stop?”

“I don’t think so.” I shook my head. “It’s his choice, but you shouldn’t feel bad about wanting more attention from him.” She looked satisfied with my answer, and I bit my lip and added, “I guess that means no New York, though?”

“Well… I’m not going to be with guys anymore, so my mom will eventually find out about me and then she’ll be hard to be around,” Cammie admitted. “Maybe it’s better if I go, after all. If I get into art school, that is. You’re leaving with your friend after graduation?”

I hesitated. A lot had come to light today, but I’d avoided telling Cammie about my plan to leave early. I didn’t want to upset her. And although graduating didn’t sound as awful as it had back in Los Angeles, I wasn’t going to spend one more minute in Collinsville than I had to. Maybe I’d even transfer to a new high school in New York for my last two months, if I could.