by Sasha Dawn
I slip into her open arms. My tears are now happy and even more uncontrollable than they were yesterday. “How? You’ve been so sick.”
“That’s what chemo does. It kills you. But I passed the last round of tests. I’m coming home.”
“You’re getting better?”
“Cancer: zero. Ella Norini: two.” She pumps her fists in the air.
I laugh and cry even harder.
“I’ll, uh . . .” Dad rises. “I’ll be downstairs. If you text when you’re ready, I’ll have Giorgio bring the car around.”
“Thanks,” Mom says.
Dad turns to me. “Talk soon, kid.” He touches my shoulder. “Okay?”
I glance at his hand, and as politely as I can manage, step out of his reach. “Okay.”
Once he’s out of the room, I take Mom’s hands and sit her down on the bed. “Okay, how is this happening?”
“He’s been coming the past couple of weeks, and—”
“No, I mean . . . you’re coming home!”
And at the moment, I don’t care about how or why my father decided to be decent. I don’t care that Ted decided to be creepy. I don’t even care that I’ll probably end up again at Saint Mary on the Mount High School with the Sophias next year.
All that I care about is that my mother has once again prevailed.
“I love you, Mom.”
She cups my face in her hands. And it doesn’t bother me.
“Back to your father, though. He told me what happened when you and Hayley went to Kenilworth. He feels awful about the way things played out with Karissa and the kids . . .”
“Does he also feel awful about hiring a private investigator to follow me around, so that he could make you look bad in court?”
She winces. “He does, actually, especially now that he knows about your anxiety.”
“Mom, he’s been a jerk on so many levels, for so long.”
“Yes, and he wants things to be better.”
“How does anyone expect me to believe that after the way he’s acted?”
“You’re pretty special, you know. He doesn’t want to lose you. He’s willing to change. I think he just didn’t know how.”
“Then why should I trust that he’ll put in the effort?”
“Because we’ve had some good talks lately. About you, about our marriage, about how things went so wrong. Things are going to be better. More transparent. More respectful.”
“I guess time will tell.”
“It will. And luckily we’ve got it, baby girl. Time.”
Chapter 48
Saturday, July 27
“Madelaine,” Nana calls down the hallway. “Your father is downstairs.”
“Coming.” I hop down the hallway, as I shove a combat boot onto my left foot.
Mom’s in her room, sleeping. Nana is in the kitchen, sorting through junk mail. “I don’t care that your mom decided, for whatever reason, to forgive that rat bastard,” Nana Adie says. “I’m still pissed at him.”
“Me, too,” I say. “But I have to talk to him.”
“Be my guest, but I don’t want him in my house right now.” Nana sighs with closed eyes. “I’m sorry. He’s your father. This is your home. Invite him up if you’d like.”
I shake my head and kiss my Nana’s cheek. “We’ll go grab a coffee.”
“I’m sorry,” she says again.
“It’s okay, Nana. It’s all going to be okay. I can’t believe Mom’s home!” And my tears start all over again. She’s been home for over a week now, but it still seems surreal.
“She’s home, all right.” Nana’s grin is wide. “Hey, look at this. From the academy. Addressed to one amazing Madelaine Joseph.” She tosses an envelope to the table.
I tear it open. “Oh. My. God.” My eyes race over the words, then double back to read them again. “Nana, they’re giving me a scholarship! A fifty percent credit toward tuition based on merit!”
We jump up and down, and Nana starts singing one of Madonna’s girl-power songs. Off key, of course.
***
Dad and I are at the café at the Factory. I trace the carving on the wood: I was here.
Neither of us has said much beyond small talk. I suppose neither of us is very good at admitting how we feel.
“How are Karissa and the kids?” I ask.
“They’re good.”
“Do the kids—know about me? Do they know they have two older sisters?”
“They do. They’ve always known.”
“But they didn’t know what we looked like. Or they would’ve recognized us when we showed up. So you must not keep photos of us in your house.”
Guilty silence from Dad.
I cut to the chase: “I think I would’ve been happy to know I had a little sister and brothers. I mean, it would’ve taken some getting used to, but I think I would’ve been excited.”
His head bobs, and he stares into his coffee. “It’s been weighing on Karissa, as you can imagine. She never wanted things to be this way, and she’s felt as if I were hiding her and the kids.”
“You were. Finding out about them this way . . . it makes me feel like I wasn’t important enough to know about big things happening in your life.”
“No, Madelaine.” He snaps his gaze to mine. “No. Don’t ever think that.”
“What am I supposed to think?”
“It was just the opposite, actually. I didn’t want to minimalize what you are to me, what Hayley is to me. And we were going to tell you—Karissa wanted to tell you from the very beginning—but I thought your mother would use it against me. I thought it would make her angry—”
“It should make her angry. You didn’t even leave us just for Karissa, which would have been bad enough. You left us for Jennica. And then you lied to us about it for years!”
I can tell Dad’s having a hard time meeting my eyes, but he manages not to look away. “Have you ever lived a lie so long that the longer it goes on, the more impossible it seems to see the truth?”
I shake my head.
“Believe it or not,” Dad says. “I did it because I thought it was best for you at the time. I didn’t want you to feel pressured to accept Kari and the kids into your life. I didn’t want you to think that you’d have to consider them family if you wanted a relationship with me.”
“Dad, that’s so messed up. You could’ve talked to us about it and given us a choice about whether we wanted to get to know them.”
“I know. I just—I didn’t want you to look at me the way you’re looking at me right now. The way you looked at me at the house in Kenilworth. All I wanted to do right then was come clean, but the truth hurt you—”
“You hurt me.”
“I wish I could go back and do things differently. The marriage really wasn’t planned. It just felt right out there, and we were going to do it all again for you and Hayley. But then the court case came, and I was angry that your mother was able to put a halt to my plans.”
“But she did it because she got cancer. She wanted to make sure I’d be taken care of. That she would be compensated for all the work she’d done for free over the years.”
“I know that now. And I’m going to make it right.”
“Dad, it’s not that simple. It’s going to take me a long time to get over all this. I’m still angry.”
He stares at me, eyes wide. “I don’t want to let you down.” That’s all he says.
I take a deep breath. “You have let me down sometimes. But you don’t have to keep letting me down.”
Dad nods slowly. “So where do we go from here?”
“You know what would be a good start? I need an education. I don’t need a hundred pairs of shoes, and hats, and trips to Broadway, and tickets to see Vagabonds. I love shopping with you and going to all those awesome places, and I’m thankful that you can do all that for me, but when you refuse to acknowledge that what I really need is to go to the academy . . . it’s wrong.”
“You need to go to that school. I agr
ee. I’ve had this mistaken impression that I was teaching you a valuable life lesson but talking to your mom the last couple of weeks has put things in a different light.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so stubborn, but I’m going to pay for your school.”
“Dad, I’m going to need you to pay for half of it.”
“No, one hundred percent. You’re right. I have the means, I shouldn’t hold it over your mother’s head.”
“Half at the academy will be fine,” I say.
“Now who’s being stubborn?”
“The same girl who got a fifty-percent merit scholarship.”
“Maddy.” His eyes light up when he smiles, and suddenly, I remember that he used to smile a lot when I was a little girl. “That’s fantastic!”
“About NYU, though. I know the courts determined that you’d split it with Mom, but . . . Are you paying for Hayley’s school?”
“Yes.”
“One hundred percent?”
“Yes.”
“You can afford it. Mom can’t. So I’d like you to do for me what you’re doing for Hayley, and what you’ll do for Jennica and the boys. I want you give me the same financial support you’re giving them. And while we’re on the subject, I’d like you to work with Mom in managing my career. I know you don’t like each other—”
“I can be civil.” Dad sighs. “But your mom’s not equipped for that career. No experience. No, there’s too much on the line. I can’t put your career in her hands.”
“Dad, come on. I trust her, and I’m old enough to have a say in who manages my career. You have enough clients. You won’t miss the commissions from my roles. You can get Mom started in the right direction, so she can have the same type of security you have. She made your life possible, and you make her life difficult. If you want me in your life, you’re going to have to work with my mother.”
“Okay, okay. You raise some good points.”
“I have your word. You’ll work with Mom.”
“Consider it done.”
Well. That went a lot better than I expected. “So are you going to tell me why you were hanging out in my mother’s hospital room?” I ask. “I didn’t know you’d been visiting her until she mentioned it the day she left.”
“It was Karissa’s idea.”
“Really?”
He gives me an uncomfortable half smile. “She had a feeling it would be good for me. This may seem strange to you, but I have a problem with anxiety sometimes.”
“Maybe you should go to therapy, too.”
“Strangely enough, talking to your mother was a little like therapy. I get anxious when I feel like someone is going to know I’ve done something wrong. And let’s face it, I’ve done more than my fair share wrong. Your mom’s the one who’s borne the brunt of it, so nothing surprises her. She knows Karissa and I had an affair. And now she knows I’ve been keeping the children a secret from you. And I . . . I guess I just worry that you’re not going to love me as much as you love your mom.”
“Dad. No. In fact, opening night of my show, I want you all there. You, Karissa, Jennica, Daniel, and Karl. And I want to go out to dinner after. And I don’t want to have to split my time—half with you, half with Mom. I want all of us to eat together.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. You can think about it, if you need to. But you need to get used to the idea fast. You told me you were upset that you didn’t know what was going on in my life. So be part of my life.”
“Deal.” He smiles wryly. “You know, that Brendon kid gave me the finger at your open mic.”
“He did?”
“It’s okay. I deserved it.”
“Agreed.”
Dad lets out a little laugh.
“And there’s one more thing. Can you stop calling me Maddy? I really prefer Lainey.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“How did I not know that?”
“Dad, we just don’t really talk about important things.”
“Well, Lainey, I think we’re going to have to start.”
I smile.
He smiles.
Chapter 49
Dad drops me off at home. I wave goodbye and walk up.
And there, sitting on the landing, leaning against our door, is an origami moon.
Ted’s been here.
I freeze for a second but ultimately pick it up, if only to throw it away once I’m inside.
I unlock the vestibule door. Classic Madonna drifts out to meet me, and Nana is getting into the groove.
Two steps past the threshold, I hear Ted’s voice: “Hi, Lainey.”
My heart starts to gallop when I see him sitting on the steps leading up to our third-floor apartment.
“What are you doing here?” I back toward the vestibule, but what can I do? If I run outside, he’ll follow, and that’ll be more dangerous than being in this tiny space with him. At least here, if I scream, someone might peek out a door to help me.
“You seemed upset the other day,” Ted says. “I’ve tried to text . . . nothing delivers to you. But I thought we should clear the air.”
“There’s nothing to clear. You should just go home.”
“Lainey, I believe in you. Always believed in you, and I knew someday your mom would see the benefit of having me in your life.” He’s on his feet now, lingering on the steps.
“You’re sick.” My hands are shaking, and so is my voice. “You’re pretending to be a teenaged guy online to get close to me.”
“What?” He takes a step toward me.
I take a step back. “Dylan Thomas. That’s the name you go by.”
“Lainey . . . no.” Ted says. “I’m not Dylan Thomas.”
“I saw the origami book and all the paper at your place. Mom already told me she wrote the poems, and you’re the only one who could have had access to them.”
“I left you the moons. I did. But only because you mean so much to me.” He’s invading my personal space now, standing less than a foot from me.”
Tears burn my eyes. “Please. Stop.”
He’s getting closer now.
“Nana!” I yell. “Mom!”
He chuckles. “The thing about Adie. She sure loves her Madonna, doesn’t she?”
My back hits the vestibule door.
“You deserve to be a priority for someone,” Ted says. I smell the coffee on his breath. “Jesse Joseph doesn’t deserve to be your father.”
“Mom! Please! Someone—”
“Shh.” He moves, like he’s going to wipe a tear from my cheek.
I flinch and scream again.
“Lainey, shh.”
“That’s quite enough, Ted.” Nana’s voice.
I look up to see Mom and Nana, and my patchouli-loving neighbor with her phone aimed at the action, coming down the stairs from the apartments above.
The whir of a siren sounds in the distance.
“Get the hell away from my daughter,” Mom says.
Ted shoves me aside and opens the door.
“Madelaine!” Mom is instantly at my side.
I look up from her embrace to find Giorgio lumbering up the steps and blocking Ted’s exit. Ted takes a step back, but Giorgio catches and holds him with his arm twisted behind his back. “I saw the moon you picked up, Miss Madelaine,” Giorgio says. “When I mentioned it to your dad, he called the police and we circled the block and came back.”
I see him now: my father standing at the corner.
“Ella,” Ted says. “Tell them . . . You understand why I did it, right? To be a father to her.”
My mother straightens up and holds me a little tighter. “You crossed a line, Ted.”
“And,” I say, “I already have a father.”
He’s not perfect, and we have a lot of things to work through. But he’s my father, and I love him, and he’s working on earning my trust. Something Ted has lost forever.
I breathe steadily.
Chapter 50
; I’m so tired. This day was insane.
And maybe I should just let a sleeping dog lie.
But Ted has been arrested, and the cops assured me he won’t be arraigned until tomorrow morning. I know he’s in the clink all night. I’m safe.
I open my laptop and surf to Lyrically.
I unblock Dylan Thomas.
Maybe this is crazy, but if Ted was lying—if he’s really Dylan—he won’t be able to reply to me tonight from a holding cell. And if Ted’s telling the truth—if he’s not Dylan—maybe I’ll find out who is.
It’s now or never.
Me: Who are you?
A few minutes pass with no reply. I hover over the block button, but a split second before I tap it, Dylan starts to type.
Dylan: You know me.
Me: WHO ARE YOU?
Dylan: You’ll be mad.
Me: I’m already mad.
Dylan: Promise you’ll listen?
Me: If you’re legit my age, I need to know.
Dylan: FaceTime?
Me: Not giving you my number.
My phone starts to ring. I gasp when I see the name lighting up the screen.
No.
Maybe it’s a coincidence.
Dylan: Answer please.
Dylan: We should talk about this.
I look again to my phone, at the invitation to FaceTime.
I accept.
Brendon’s face fills the screen. “Do you hate me?”
Chapter 51
I can’t say anything for a full five seconds. It doesn’t sound like a lot of time, but when you discover one of your best friends—one of the few genuine friends you have—has been deceiving you, five seconds could be a lifetime. Finally, I manage, “Why would you—”
“I saw you post the lyrics. I thought it would be a good way to get to know you.”
“You know me already.”
“Not like this. Like I told you in New York. You’re legendary in my house ever since Mary Poppins. And then we worked together in Peter Pan, and you were amazing, but you were also so reserved. I don’t think you said more than five words to me that whole time. I was hoping to find a way to get to know you.”
I shake my head. I’m so confused. And I’m pissed. “Why wouldn’t you just talk to me?”
