CHAPTER 13
JULIAN
Naomi looks as nervous as I feel as we wait in my car in the parking lot of Cathy’s Café. My doors are locked, engine idling and ready to peel out if necessary. Allan needs to show first and take a table in the ice cream shop where I can scope him out before he has any chance of seeing his daughter. So far, there’s been no sign of him.
“It’s only five after,” Naomi says, but I hear it in her voice. The doubt. The fear that five after will become ten after, then twenty after, and soon we’ll have to accept the hard truth.
I pull out my phone and punch in another text to that bastard. That makes three in the last seven minutes.
Where the fuck are you? I write. It joins the tapestry of,
You here?
Give me your ETA.
Yeah, nothing.
Naomi’s fingers ball into a fist on her lap, and I reach over to lay mine on top. This time she loosens her grip to take my hand. I squeeze gently as we watch through the windshield.
Customer after customer goes through the door. Families, couples young and old, clusters of friends, but no deadbeat junkie interested in his daughter. No liar and manipulator who should be in prison for what he did and possibly could be if I didn’t fear that battle would do even more damage to Naomi and get her taken away from me.
At 7:30, I turn off the car. I’m so angry, the blue sign around Cathy’s Café is now tinged with red. My hope that he’d show has transformed into a hope to God that he doesn’t because I don’t want to spend the night in jail. Naomi needs me to keep my head, and I need her to not have to deal with another fucking blow to her heart.
“He’s not coming,” she says quietly, her voice wavering.
I look over, catching the reflection of the neon sign in her misty eyes. This is my fault too. I’m the one who gave him a chance. I’m the one who thought for just one second life would toss us a break.
I don’t even know what to say as the silence stifles the car like toxic air. I could throw out platitudes about how it’s his loss or blatant lies about how he’s probably stuck in traffic. There’s a ton of things I could say, but she’s too smart for that shit, lived through too much heartache to be forced to listen to it anymore.
Please stay. I need you for the better days.
That lyric grinds at me again, taunting at the worst possible moment. The better days. What a joke.
I take her hand again and stare at a laughing mother through the window. Her toddler has chocolate melted all over his face and keeps sticking his tongue out trying to reach it. They don’t know they’re sitting at a table that just shattered another little girl’s heart.
“You want ice cream?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Can I… can I get a root beer float?”
“I’ll be disappointed if you don’t.”
I squeeze her hand as she wipes her other sleeve across her eyes.
Can you do me a favor and stay with Naomi for a while?
I text Hadley the second we get home. Naomi heads straight to her room, and I let her go, knowing she needs time to process what just happened. I do too, but my processing is typically of a different nature. Sure enough, the music is blasting the second her door clicks shut.
Hadley: Sure. Everything okay?
Me: Fine. I just need to run out for a sec.
Hadley: I’ll be up in five minutes.
I wait impatiently after shoving my phone in my pocket, resisting the urge to check on Naomi. I don’t want her to see me like this. She’ll know I’m primed to do something stupid, and right now she has to believe one of us still has it together.
I grip my keys in my hand as I pace the foyer, checking the peephole every few seconds just in case I missed her knock. Finally, she shows up, and I yank open the door before she can even make contact.
“Hi?” she says, her fist still hovering in mid-air.
“Thanks for doing this.” I rush past her into the hallway. “She’s in her room and might need some time alone. You can feel her out.”
“Um… okay. I take it things didn’t go well with her father tonight?”
“No.”
I’m halfway down the hall when she calls out, “Wait!”
I turn and stare at her.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“Nowhere. Don’t worry about it,” I call back.
“Julian! Wait! Just—” I don’t hear the rest as I push through the fire door and into the stairwell. This hanging “just” is on me.
I take the stairs two at a time, crashing through the door to the outside and jogging to my car. Shoving my keys in the ignition, I force in a long, deep breath. I need to stay calm. Focused. I need to remember I’m on a mission for Naomi’s welfare, not for revenge. Just get the papers and leave. Simple enough. I back out of the space and rip through the parking lot onto the street.
The drive to Sunset Crest Mobile Home Park is a blur. I bought this place for my sister and Naomi once I had enough money saved up from my Eastern Crush days. As the contract rhythm guitarist with no writing credits or original stake in the band, I wasn’t exactly rolling in it, even in our prime, but my expenses were mostly covered and I’ve never needed much to get by. Within a couple years I had enough to get my sister and her kid out of the shithole they were living in since they’d moved to L.A. years before.
The doublewide was certainly no mansion, but it was brand new, clean, and in a much better park than her previous home. She acted like it was heaven itself when I dropped the keys in her hand. From my visit a couple of weeks ago, Allan did a fantastic job of trashing the place this past year. My stomach is sick thinking Naomi may have been living in those conditions. I hate myself for not getting involved in their situation sooner.
Thing is, I was a mess too. The brunt of the Eastern Crush collapse happened around the same time as Ashley’s death, sending me into a tailspin. I wasted months drowning alone as a shadow of a human being in my downgraded apartment, living off the little money I had left.
Ashley had moved across the country for a job opportunity after I turned eighteen and she was confident I could fend for myself. Naomi was around five at the time, and I saw her maybe twice for brief visits after the move. It wasn’t until I also moved out to L.A. after the Eastern Crush thing took off that having any kind of real relationship with my niece would have been plausible. But by then I was touring and living the rockstar life. The last thing on my mind was my sister and her kid I barely knew. The true reality of Naomi’s existence didn’t settle in until Ashley’s death.
When Allan stepped up to take over his daughter’s care, I thought nothing of it. I’d helped with the funeral arrangements, given the girl a hug at the service, and that was that. He moved into the trailer and everything seemed under control. I never knew him well and Ashley never said a mean word about anyone, not even her absent ex. I had no idea how bad it was. Honestly, I don’t think I truly understood until he showed up on my doorstep just over a month ago.
Now? If I could kick my own ass for being so ignorant and selfish, I would. Yes, this aggressive protectiveness of Naomi is as much guilt as it is love.
Love?
Do I love her?