I rolled my eyes. Leave it to Michael to blame everyone else, and to make fun of my neighbor because of her age.
Michael stood up and smoothed the wrinkles from his suit.
“How’s Samantha doing?” I asked, watching him pick at tiny balls of lint on his pants.
The house was messy, but for once I didn’t care. I was too worried about my daughter to concern myself with Michael’s snobbery.
“Fine. Why?” Once again, he seemed irritated by my voice.
Some things never change.
“Because she recently broke her neck. I was wondering if she was healing alright,” I snapped back.
Michael mumbled something that sounded like, “She’ll live,” just as Delaney’s door snapped open again. She had changed into her black and purple skull shirt and combed her hair back into a stubby black ponytail. For the second time in days, I was stunned by how thin she looked, nearly skull-like herself.
“Stop fighting, you two,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
“We weren’t,” I said, but we all knew it was a lie.
Delaney was old enough to remember the words and the fights, the toxic relationship Michael and I once had.
Still have, I guess.
“Is it okay if I stay at Dad’s for a couple more nights … just till the weekend? Sam wants to take the twins to Chucky Cheese tonight. They’ve never been before. And I know she’ll need my help with them …”
“Why aren’t you going?” I couldn’t help it; I had to ask. I fixed my eyes on Michael.
“I have to go out of town for a couple days. We’re working on a new deal in Oklahoma. I’m flying out tonight and coming back on Saturday.”
So, technically, my daughter wasn’t staying with her dad. She was staying with her stepmom. Another flare of jealousy sprang up, but I quickly tried to extinguish it. Delaney was old enough to decide where she wanted to stay now. And if there really was someone eye-spying our house, either watching her or me, then maybe it was better for her to be with her stepmom, where they were less isolated and had better security.
“That’s fine, Laney.”
I turned to Michael. “Before you leave, will you check out the camera footage and call me? I know it’s probably nothing, but it would really put my mind at ease.”
“Will do,” Michael clipped. He wrapped an arm around Delaney’s shoulders and led her toward the door. She looked uncomfortable with his touch, which gave me a glimmer of satisfaction.
At least I’m not the only one she can’t stand, I thought.
Standing at the door, I watched them go. Michael pointed toward the passenger’s seat, but Delaney shook her head and climbed in the backseat. I held back another smile.
I waved, even though neither were looking.
But as they pulled away, Delaney’s eyes lifted and met mine. She stared out at me, her eyes big and sorrowful, and as the car rolled away from the curb, a memory came rushing back: the first time Michael took her, right after the divorce.
She’d have been only six or seven then, but unlike today, she hadn’t looked sad at all. She’d been excited to go with her father, always aiming her anger and disappointment at me. For a moment, I’d had this crazy sensation that I might never see her again. Not because something bad was going to happen, but because she’d stop loving me. Just like her father did.
“I taught you how to tie your shoes,” I had shouted after her that day. But it was windy, and the words blew back in my face.
For a moment, I thought there was no way she could have heard me, but then she’d leaned out of her open window and grumbled, “Love you too, Mom.”
She had misheard my words for “I love you”, which was probably for the best.
It was a strange thing to say, a strange thought to have … but it was the truth. Michael was the fun one, the one who paid her little attention during the week because he was always working, but then rushed out to buy her the latest gadget or Barbie or whatever she wanted come the weekend. It was me, unnoticed, doing the grunt work in the trenches. The cooking, the washing, the fighting over homework. The one who set down the rules. The one who punished her when those rules weren’t followed.
She had always been a daddy’s girl. When she was little, I had loved it. I enjoyed watching Michael swoop her into the air, those chubby little legs wrapping around his neck and shoulders, but I think I resented it then too. And maybe, deep down, I had always wondered … if Dillan had lived, would he have been a mama’s boy?
I hated myself for wondering things like that.
“I taught you how to tie your shoes.” I said the words again, clear and loud this time, but there was no one left to hear them anymore.
Chapter 23
1993 - Andrea
The knife steady in my hand, I took a step toward Philomena’s backside. Mandy watched my approach, a toothy, mad smile blossoming across her face.
Philomena whipped around, eyes zeroing in on the knife I was wielding. She glanced down at it, perfectly aligned with her belly button, then looked up at me and smiled.
I turned the knife around and gave it to her, handle first.
“Going to kill me, were you? Oh wait, you were too much of a coward for that. Trying to make Andrea here do your dirty work.”
Philomena poked the knife at Mandy’s chest.
The fake-puking had stopped, and Tamara was struggling to get on her feet. Mandy looked from Philomena to me, then her lips curled into a snarl.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you high?” Mandy asked. She released a nervous laugh, then reached for the door.
“Don’t you dare move,” Philomena hissed. The tip of the knife tore a small hole in Mandy’s shirt. I took a step back from the girls, frightened.
“What are you going to do? Stab me?” Mandy didn’t take her hand off the knob, but she held it still, eyes wide as she realized Philomena was serious.
“Were you really going to kill me, just because I slept with Jake? Do you know how insane, how evil, that is?”
“What’s evil is a best friend who thinks it’s okay to fuck any guy she wants. I loved him! And you went and screwed him anyway,” Mandy cried.
Suddenly, Philomena lowered the knife, then sighed deeply. “I’m sorry, Mandy. I wanted to tell you afterwards. I was drunk and stupid, and I should have come straight to you, but he was so sad and regretful. He told me he loved you and hated himself for what he did. I figured that telling you would be worse.”
“Oh, don’t act like you care about her feelings now,” Tamara said, squeezing between the two girls, obviously unafraid of the knife. “If you really gave a shit, you wouldn’t have done it in the first place, Philomena!”
“Oh, shut up! You’ve always been jealous of me and you’re always trying to turn Mandy against me,” Philomena screamed. “But, talking her into killing me? Wow! That must have been a dream come true for you.”
The bathroom was too hot. Too cramped. I was backed up against the railing of the tub. I leaned too far, desperately grabbing for the curtain to stop myself from falling.
But I fell anyway, pulling down the clear plastic curtain as I hit the tiles.
Philomena glanced back at the ruckus I was making, and when she did, Mandy lunged.