Who was I kidding? It didn't get harder, it had started out impossible and only got worse.
I couldn't tell them. I wouldn't.
I was just going to fix the problem and then no one ever had to know. Every time I hit that train of thought my stomach squirmed with unease. Making excuses for my own bad judgment sounded too much like my father.
Not telling is a lie. I knew it, but every time I opened my mouth to come clean the words disappeared.
I had a plan. And maybe, just maybe, my dad would come through.
J.T. and I followed Mom and Grams back to the house after we closed. As J.T. said, “Might as well get a free meal if Grams is cooking.”
I usually settled for a sandwich in the evenings, hastily assembled while I finished up the day's work, or did paperwork at my desk. I could use a decent meal, and I hadn't seen my mother in months. If I went to dinner at the house I might have the chance to catch her alone.
Sheree had learned a few things in her decades of marriage to my father. She proved elusive, always managing to be right next to Grams or J.T. every time I tried to catch her eye.
She knew I hadn't told them.
By the end of dinner, I found myself wanting to stomp my foot like a thwarted child. Sheree was always so sweet and kind and affectionate. It's true, she was all of those things. She also used them to hide her wily side.
I finally pinned her down while she washed dishes in the kitchen and J.T. had pulled Grams aside to ask her about something he was studying in class.
Grabbing a pot to dry, I tried to act casual. “Mom, how was Charlotte? Did you like it?”
“Charlotte?” she asked as if she'd never heard of the biggest city in North Carolina. Crap. That wasn't a good sign considering that's where Dad had said he’d find his big business opportunity.
Cautious, not wanting to spook her, I pressed a little harder. “Yeah, Charlotte. I thought that’s where you guys were.”
“Oh, of course. It was nice. I don't care for it in the winter, though, so we headed down to Tampa.”
“Is, um, Dad planning on coming for a visit?”
My fingers curled into fists behind my back. I wanted to demand information. Considering the position they put me in, I didn't think a little straight talk was out of line. Not going to happen. My mother and straight talk were not acquaintances.
“He'll be along, I expect. He had some things to wrap up.”
I swallowed hard and braced, keeping my voice low. “And the money, Mom? Do you know if Dad's planning on paying me back? He was supposed to have it by Christmas, remember?”
She refused to meet my eyes, scrubbing hard at the casserole dish in the sink. “Daisy, baby, you know I don't handle things like that. I'm sure your father has it under control. You ask him when he gets here, and he'll get this sorted out for you. Hasn’t he always taken care of you?”
No, I wanted to shout. He’s never taken care of me. Grams took care of me and now the three of us have screwed her over.
I didn't yell. Not just because it would draw Grams and J.T.'s attention. I didn't yell because this was all my fault and yelling at my mother wouldn't fix a thing. Her lower lip would start to tremble and her soft eyes would fill with tears.
She wasn't manipulative. Not really. It had taken me a long time to understand that she truly believed my father would make everything right despite the fact that he almost never did.
And honestly, who was the fool here? The woman who’d been happily married to him for over thirty years or the one who'd handed over her dreams and somehow expected this one time her dad wouldn't let her down?
Yeah, I knew the answer to that question. Sheree had chosen her delusion and lived happily inside it. I'd stepped out of my comfort zone for mine and reality had torn it away.
Still, I had a little hope. If Sheree was here, then my dad would probably show up eventually. I might go easy on my mom, but with my dad, I could take a more direct approach. There was always a chance he was going to come through.
Later that night, J.T. and I lay in the double bed in my small apartment over the bakery, my head on his T-shirt-covered shoulder, his fingers in my hair, tugging at my curls.
“What was up with you and your mom?” he asked. “She seemed extra squirrelly.”
For just a second I was tempted to tell him everything, but I couldn't bring myself to admit how stupid I'd been, even to J.T.
“Nothing, I was just annoyed that she wouldn't tell me where Dad was.”
“I thought they were in Charlotte.”
“Apparently not. Mom decided she wanted to winter in Florida.”
J.T. laughed, the rumble familiar under my ear. “Why didn't we think of that?”
“Right? Silly us working our asses off going to school and running a business when we could've been hanging out on the beach. Too bad we have all those bills to pay.”
J.T. tugged a curl, drawing my eyes up to his. “You gonna tell me why you've been working so hard?”
I rolled into him, wrapping my arm around his chest as I tried to think of an answer he'd accept. I had nothing, so I went with option two—a counterattack. “Are you going to tell me where you're staying when you don't come home during the week?”
As expected, J.T. didn't answer. It hurt my heart that he didn't trust me enough to say. That after all these years he didn't know deep down that I loved him no matter what. I'd always loved him and I always would. There was nothing he could say or do that would change that. But I couldn't make him believe. I had to hope he’d tell me when he was ready.
At a stalemate, J.T. changed the subject. He tugged another curl before he said, “You should go out with Royal.”
“Are you kidding me?” I pulled away and rose up on my elbows. “Going out with Royal is the last thing I should do. First of all, he’s not serious. I don’t have time to waste on some guy who just wants to get laid.”
“Getting laid wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, Daze. I've heard it's nice.”
“Like you don't know,” I muttered under my breath.
“I'm starting to think you don't remember. It's been so long I think you've got cobwebs in your vag.”
I poked him in the ribs right in his tickle spot, and he flinched away, laughing. “I'll have you know my vag is in excellent shape. I'm just taking a break from sex.”
“Is that what you're calling it? A break? When was the last time you slept with anyone who wasn't me?”
I flopped on my back and stared at the ceiling. “I'm not going out with Royal,” I repeated.