Everyone has been kind at the restaurant, taking over the work so Alysha could sit in this booth with us for as long as she wants. But the dinner crowd is beginning to come in, and we need to make the drive back to Camp Verde soon. And I have to find courage of my own, a thought that seemed a whole lot simpler when Jorge told me he was going back to Omaha at two in the morning.
I suppose a piece of me always knew this day was coming. I wished for it. It’s why I wouldn’t let myself fall for Jorge. It wasn’t fair to him because I would never truly be his. I guess it wasn’t fair to keep him close for three years, but I never once lied about my feelings. And it turns out, I probably didn’t need to lie about Dustin’s relationship to Bristol either. I’m just so afraid to utter the truth out loud.
Alex has me trained to expect his ear nearby, always and everywhere. Putting the truth out there terrifies me because Alex could use our daughter to hurt Dustin and back him into a grift worse than the one he’s trapped in now. But I now know in my heart that none of that will matter if Bristol never gets to know the love of my life—the love of hers. Dustin is our greatest chance to truly live, and Bristol is the key to that trust I know I’ll need. He will love her with his entire everything, and nobody stands a chance against that.
Not even me. And that, selfishly, is what has my heart pounding so hard that I fear cardiac arrest at any minute.
Dustin’s gone out to the car to get the small box of things Colt left for him in that safe deposit box. He wanted to show Alysha the birth certificate and give her the clippings that were in there, to add to the collection she says is already four scrapbooks deep. He bounds into the restaurant with the verve of a child wanting to show off his new toys, and as nervous as I am for the next few hours of my life, I’m present enough to appreciate this minute. His smile pushes into his cheeks, forming doubled dimples and crinkles at the sides of his eyes. He slides into the booth next to me and flips the lid off the box, pushing the contents toward Alysha, who is equally delighted to sift through them.
Her eyes read over every detail on his birth certificate before anything else, her lips moving while she silently says each word.
Northern Arizona Mercy General.
Seven pounds.
Eleven ounces.
Twenty-one inches.
Two-thirty-eight a.m.
“I have your baby footprint,” she utters, eyes still scanning the details she likely never forgot about a day I’m certain is etched on her heart. “A woman at the hospital gave it to me and I was supposed to give it back for someone to record. I kept it. I carried it in my purse for years. Maybe you can come for dinner sometime and I’ll show you everything?”
She glances up with hopeful eyes.
“I’d really like that,” Dustin says. His smile lingers, his lips occasionally twitching as she continues to pull items from the box. I think he wants to point out his favorite memories, but he also doesn’t want to overwhelm her. He’s too invested in simply watching her enjoy each discovery on her own.
After she pulls the last item from the box, a movie stub from the drive-in theater in the Valley, Dustin begins to pack the items back inside. But she leans back and holds the movie stub fondly, a tender smile playing at her lips. Her response seems to catch him by surprise.
“Is that familiar?” His brow draws in. That ticket was meaningless to him when he discovered it, but given the reaction Alysha is having, I’m glad he didn’t toss it the way he thought to at first.
She pinches the small ticket at the edges and pulls a pair of reading glasses from her pocket, squinting through the spectacles to make out the details.
“Yes, this is it!” She hands the ticket back to Dustin and taps her red manicured nail on the top of it as he braces it between his thumb and index finger. “Do you remember this?”
Dustin mashes his lips, probably searching his oldest memories for anything that triggers given this new information—that the ticket is meaningful to Alysha. He gives up after a few seconds, though, and shakes his head.
“You were four and you talked so much that day. We had to park far away from every other car because you had no interest in watching the movie. It was some underwater adventure cartoon, the only kid-friendly thing playing at that time. And Trisha only had a few hours when she could get away. She brought you there and sat in the bleachers near the projection booths while you and I watched a movie together like mother and son.” Alysha falls back into the booth and looks up slightly, almost as if she’s reliving the memory—like a movie playing in the air.
“Trisha brought me to see you?” Dustin’s face is contorted into an excited and pained mixture.
“She did,” Alysha answers, bringing her gaze back to her son. She reaches across the table, opening her palms to Dustin. He instantly gives in to her request, binding their hands together and studying his mother’s eyes while she focuses on their tethered hands before their fingers unwind and slide apart.
“I was between apartments and had gotten myself truly sober. I was living with a woman in Phoenix who Trisha and I both knew at the lowest moments of our lives. She . . . helped us earn money.” Alysha doesn’t elaborate, and she doesn’t need to. I can tell by Dustin’s expression that he understands his mother’s past. I also see the surprise in his eyes that Trisha and Alysha knew each other. His mother seems to recognize his questioning gaze.
“We didn’t know each other well. We both knew Colt. And we both struggled with addiction. I was eight years younger than her, and for the month or so we both lived in Phoenix, Trisha taught me how to survive. I didn’t think she knew I was your mother. Our paths hadn’t crossed in more than a year when I had you. But one day, out of the blue, fresh out of rehab, I got a phone call. She had found me, and she invited me to the movies. I should have kept you then. I thought about running, buckling you up in the back seat and racing away in the car I borrowed from my boss.”
“Why didn’t you?” Dustin’s voice sounds broken.
Alysha’s eyes flicker down to her lap, and I recognize the lines of guilt that weigh down the edges of her mouth. I wear those lines too, and they will likely cut deeper an hour from now, if courage doesn’t escape me.
“I had nothing. I was scared. Colt, he can be demanding and controlling. I was afraid if I ran he would find me. And Trisha seemed to have herself together. I was depressed, and I truly believed that you were better off having her look after you rather than me.” She blinks away tears, pulling a small tissue from the breast pocket of her work shirt. She blots at her eyes then tucks the tissue back behind her name badge.
Dustin flips the movie ticket over in his hand a few times, his expression tense, teeth together and gaze lost on his own hands.
“Okay,” he finally utters. He forces a tight smile and tosses the ticket back in the box. I’ve known Dustin long enough to recognize the difference in his breathing when he’s trying to digest his emotions. His chest rises and falls slower than normal, and his lips contort beneath his forced smile. What is remarkable is the way Alysha does the exact same thing.
“If I could go back—”
“We can’t. And, ooof.” He laughs out nervously before running a hand through his hair. “I know we can’t. And I know you would if you could. Honestly, I’m just glad I found you. I don’t want to ruin what’s left by dwelling on what was.”