I spun around in my desk chair and stared at the wall. It just didn’t make sense. There was no reason for him to lie to me about his father’s death, but for some reason I was sure he had. I went over the article several times looking for some other explanation. I got nothing. This man was a mystery to me, just like his son. Frustrated, I decided to go downstairs and grab a snack and a drink while I pondered the information.
I knew I didn’t want to keep asking him about his family, and I knew I didn’t like the idea of him not telling me the truth. I started to feel very foolish, both for liking him so much without knowing him and also for looking up something I probably shouldn’t have. I mean, I was prying and going behind his back investigating his family without him knowing. It wasn’t like he deserved my mistrust, but at the same time, I had to protect myself. I wasn’t stupid.
When I got downstairs, my mom was in the kitchen, too. She turned away from the pantry.
“Great minds think alike,” she said, dangling a package of cookies.
I smiled. “You have the munchies, too?”
“Yeah, I do,” she said, pulling one out for herself.
I grabbed one from the package as she held it out to me and headed over to the fridge. I liked milk with my cookies, so I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and began pouring my milk and chewing.
“How are things with Wes?” she asked.
I almost spilled my milk. Her question was simple and not really out of the ordinary, but it still took me by surprise. That meant I was definitely feeling guilty for my insecurity. “Fine,” I replied, still chewing. I wasn’t in the mood to go into details, or admit to my mother that I had already suspected him of lying. She was just barely okay with me seeing him, so I figured my best bet would be to tell her I had work to do and get out of there as fast as I could. I wasted no time grabbing a few cookies and giving her a kiss on the cheek before disappearing.
Back in my room, I pondered the conclusion that there was no reason for me to be uptight. It was just dates mixed up. So what? Maybe he didn’t want to tell me his loss was so new. Some people just don’t like sympathy. I resolved myself to being content with that explanation, so when I finished my snack, I brushed my teeth and got in the bed.
The getting in was the easy part, but actually falling asleep was a whole other matter. I lay there tossing and turning from one side to another for about an hour. The question of why kept bouncing around in my brain, and I couldn’t shake it no matter which way I lay.
He was nineteen years old, and if his father died last year, he would’ve been eighteen. There would be no need for him to live with his uncle for a while, unless he just wanted to stay with family, but he said his uncle cared for him. Why would an adult need to be cared for? Why even mention the uncle? The uncle, I thought. I threw back my covers and slid into my desk chair again, hoping for some sort of resolution.
He said his uncle was a renowned scientist. Surely there would have to be something else I could find. It was the only other name I had to go on, so I searched his name, too. My first couple of searches for Thomas Oliver brought back too many results, and none of them sounded anything remotely doctor related, so I narrowed it down to “Dr. Oliver Thomas.” An article from the University of Berkeley popped up. I straightened my posture in interest, because I knew that had to be him. I quickly double clicked on the link.
It was a university article dedicating an academic hall to Dr. Thomas for his research in blood and cell structure for the university. The article described Dr. Thomas as one of the first scientists to discover blood typing, ways to store blood, as well as innovative cell research in his later life. According to the article, the hall was named after him shortly following his death on December 1, 1959.
My eyes narrowed as I reread 1959. I dropped my head down on my arms in frustration. I was only making the situation worse. I was reading about people for no reason. It wasn’t even the right person. I closed out of the web page and tried another search.
I typed in “Dr. Oliver Thomas Renowned Scientist.” This time, I was referred to a medical journal discussing experimental cures for cancer. I almost closed it out, but I saw a line again about blood research, which was a phrase I’d come across far too often for it to be a coincidence. I paused, let out a tired sigh, and kept on reading. This article had been written by another doctor who was working on finding cures for cancer and HIV with the use of alligator blood. The article said Dr. Oliver Thomas was first known to have tried such blood transfusions on patients in 1916, only to abruptly cease his research due to the poor outcome of the patients—who all died within 24 hours of receiving the blood.
With the help of new methods of obtaining antibodies from alligator blood, scientists were now able to conduct new studies in hopes of finding a cure for many diseases. I scrolled down to find anything relevant to what I was looking for, and I saw the same date of death listed for the doctor: 1959.
I tightened my lips together and closed out of that web page as well. I searched Dr. Oliver Thomas’ name every other way I could imagine and each time, the only doctor going by that name had died in 1959 at his home outside of San Francisco, which would be at right about the location Wes said he had lived. I built up more air than needed in my chest, and I let out a huge sigh, which sent my bangs flying away from my eyes. I turned off my computer screen. Ridiculous, I thought.
I went back over to my bed; it was midnight by then. One thing I didn’t like was being misled, and for some reason, that is exactly what Wes had done. I didn’t understand why. He had been so nice, so perfect. I didn’t know what I was going to do about the new information. Telling my mom wasn’t an option, because she was just starting to like him, and I couldn’t tell Kerry because I didn’t want to listen to her talk bad about him, which is what she would do. Even though I knew she’d be trying to make me feel better, it would only make me feel worse. I didn’t want people to mistrust him. The thought of that made me roll my eyes in the darkness. It was like I was protecting him undeservingly. Why would I care if people thought he was a phony? It made me angry to care so much.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was telling myself to leave well enough alone. There had to be a reason he told me that story, and whatever the reason, I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to find out. I certainly wasn’t about to call him and tell him I had played the part of private investigator behind his back—and by the way, tell him he’d lied about his dad and an uncle who died before he was even born. No, I wasn’t going to tell him that. My only other two options were to ignore it and keep things as they were or to stop seeing him. Neither choice appealed to me. So, for the time being, I decided I would avoid the situation altogether.
I played up having projects and homework for over a week. I only saw Wes on my way from having lunch with my mom. I could tell he sensed that I was trying to keep my distance a bit, but he didn’t question me on it. He seemed content to give me as much attention as I wanted. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. I was glad he didn’t ask me what was wrong every five minutes, but I was worried about why my distance and lame homework excuses weren’t bothering him either.
Aside from seeing him once for almost two weeks, we talked just about every day on the phone, but other than that, I buried myself in my school work and used it as an excuse to stay home. At first, I was proud of myself for whatever internal mind game I was playing, but after a while, I realized I was fooling myself. I couldn’t keep up the schoolwork façade much longer. I had to decide to see him or just break it off altogether.
I told myself that I didn’t want to be bamboozled by him, but it wasn’t working. I needed to see him—bamboozled or not. I justified my submission by vowing to demand the truth from him. If he wasn’t going to be honest, then I was fairly sure I would be able to walk away. I was content with my decision except, I had spent so much time racking my brain about Wes and what I was going to say to him, that I was blindsided by other issues in my own house.
/> I was having breakfast with my mother when I noticed she was acting a little nervous. I sat at my normal spot at the table, eating a bowl of cereal, and she sat down with a cup of coffee and nothing else. That meant she wanted to talk.
“Sophie?” she said, as if she wasn’t sure I was sitting right in front of her.
“Yes,” I answered, bracing myself for whatever talk she was about to have with me. I hoped to goodness it wasn’t going to be the boy talk.
“Sophie, I met someone,” she said hesitantly. “A man. He’s really nice,” she clarified. It was worse. It was a man talk. I kept looking at my bowl and chewing so I wouldn’t have to look her in the eye. I should’ve known something was weird with her when I saw her digging in my cookies the other night. That was out of the ordinary for her, but I was so wrapped up in my own problem, I didn’t even notice.
“And,” I said, between bites.
“And, I would like for you to meet him.”
Oh no, I thought, fighting hard to refrain from rolling my eyes. It was all too much. I had my own problems to deal with. I wasn’t about to play the mother with her. I tried to get my point across without sounding too selfish.
“Mom, you don’t need me to meet him. I’m sure anyone you choose to hang out with will be fine.” The word “please” kept repeating in my mind over and over as I waited for her reply.
“Well, I would like your opinion. He’s really persistent, and I’m not sure about him. I could use your input,” she added.
“I’m sure he’s fine.”
“I want your approval,” she countered.
Her eyes were desperate and conflicted, and I wished I had more time to decipher them, but the truth was, I was just dying to get out of there.
“You have my approval, Mom,” I said, standing up to put my bowl in the sink.
“Really. Just like that? You don’t even want to meet him?”
“Uh, yeah, I do. Just not yet…I’d rather wait.”
“Okay. Fair enough,” she said, nodding and assessing my expression. I threw in a little forced smile and when she was satisfied with her assessment, she went back to drinking her coffee. Relieved, I smoothly made my exit.
I wasn’t sure why my mother would need my approval. I didn’t care if she’d met someone. I suppose I might have been weirded out by the idea of her bringing someone else into our lives before, but I was eighteen now, and I had my own future to worry about. In a way, I was happy for her to have someone else. I had always worried about her being alone after I moved out, so the idea of her meeting someone didn’t bother me at all. But, that didn’t mean I had to play, “Meet the Daughter.” No, I was glad she’d let me off the hook, for now.
I went to work on Saturday, still hesitant at the idea of confronting Wes about the discrepancies I’d discovered, but after an hour of complete boredom, I text messaged him: NO MORE WORK. WANT TO MEET? I set the phone down on the counter and after only a minute, I stared at it, wondering why he hadn’t replied. I didn’t even notice Dawn sneak up behind me.
“Are you waiting for it to jump up and dance?” she asked. I looked up to notice her eyeing my phone. I let out a chuckle.
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
“Hmm…I’m betting a guy…no, not just a guy. A really cute guy,” she said, hypothesizing.
“What makes you say that?” I asked, trying to sound innocent.
“Because you wouldn’t be watching it that hard if it wasn’t.”
She had a point.
“I’m just a little nervous,” I admitted.
She pulled up a stool and sat beside me, closing in so Mr. Healey couldn’t hear us. He was busy doing whatever he always seemed to do, but she acted like he was eavesdropping. I shrugged my shoulders casually. “It’s nothing really. Just a guy. I think we are going to have a ‘talk’ today.” I put up quotation symbols with my fingers when I said the word talk.
“Ah hah. You mean like doing it?”
“No!” I snapped, loud enough for her father to turn his head our way. “Just a talk,” I clarified.
She looked at me like I was hiding something, but then she eased off. “Sorry.”
I wasn’t sure how to reply to that. Wes and I weren’t even close to going there, but she didn’t know that, so I just said, “It’s okay.” Just then, the phone started vibrating on the counter. Both of our eyes turned to watch as it shifted in a circular motion.
“It won’t bite,” she said.
“Oh, shush,” I said, grabbing the phone and elbowing her simultaneously. I don’t know why I was being so weird. I think I was just nervous because of what I had to say. If he accepted, there was no turning back, and if he declined, I feared I was too late to salvage anything, if there was anything at all worth salvaging.
I looked down at the message from him: YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK. JUST CALL ME AND TELL ME WHEN. An involuntary smile went across my face, and I felt a huge sigh of relief, which I was trying to control. I couldn’t help but feel all warm inside, but there were still major details left to hash out, so I wasn’t going to let myself feel all fluttery until they were resolved.
“You are aren’t you?” Dawn accused again.
“Oh please, get your head out of the toilet. I barely know him.”
“If you say so,” she said, going back to her own business of passing the time.
I was telling her the truth. I had more immediate things to think about, such as calling him and working out the details. I already knew that I didn’t want him picking me up at my house. I had to figure out somewhere to meet, because I wanted to drive. I would feel more in control that way.
I chose to meet at the marina after work. I thought the pier would be a good place to talk. It wasn’t anywhere out of the ordinary. People went there all the time, but it also allowed for privacy. It was perfect.
Chapter 7
TRUST
When I pulled into the parking lot, his car was already there. I parked a few cars down, and then I got out and looked around for him. It was hard to see if he was in his car because his windows were tinted.
As I approached his vehicle, he stepped out. He looked beyond good, as usual, but I was taken aback by the winter hat he was wearing. It did seem like an unusually cold evening for early November, but I didn’t need to be bundled up the way he was. I started thinking he was just trying to look good with the accessory, and if he was, he pulled it off very well.
“I guess it gets a little cold out here this late in the year,” I said, as he approached me.
“Maybe a little, but I think we’ll be okay,” he assured.
I liked the sound of “we” a little too much, and walking beside him was making it all too easy to forget my apprehensions, but I needed to stay focused. Lucky for me, he was being very accommodating. He was patiently giving me as much room as I needed.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been out much lately,” I said. I paused, but he remained attentive without commenting. “I had two tests and two projects due, plus my mom met someone new. It’s been really crazy around my house.” It wasn’t a total lie. I did have tests and projects, and my mom was seeing someone new, even if I’d only found that out in the last day or so.
“You don’t have to explain anything.” He was sincere as always, which was making him that much more alluring.
“Well, I think I do. The truth is, it’s very hard to focus when I’m around you. I needed to clear my head.” We found a stopping point on the pier, and he turned to look at me. The dark backdrop of the night was making it impossible to concentrate on anything other than the attraction I felt for him.
“Clear your head about what?” he asked.
I needed to choose my words very carefully. I thought I could accomplish what I wanted by being a little more honest than I’d intended. “Well,” I said. “I feel like I don’t know who you are. You know everything about me. You’ve even met my mom. I feel like you’re too perfect to be true, honestly.”
He shook his head
and looked at his feet. “I’m far from perfect.”
“I don’t think so. I mean, you’re so mature, and you have all your goals lined up, and you’re so responsible, and you own your own house.” I turned toward the water and leaned on the rail. “Your parents must have really been good people.”
“They were,” he said, leaning his elbows on the rail next to me.
“I’m just amazed at the way you’re able to handle everything.” I paused, hoping not to give away my suspicion. “How old were you when you lost your dad?”
“I was three,” he answered, without a stutter. I looked out over the water, trying not to appear too rehearsed. After a moment, I asked him something I hadn’t thought about before.
“So your mom raised you alone, or did you have a stepfather?”
He shook his head immediately. “No, my mom was alone. She spent her life taking care of me after my father died.” He was staring off into the water reflecting. “I owe her more than you can imagine.”
“She must have been a great woman,” I offered, feeling pity again. Listening to him sound so open and genuine with me made me almost forget what I’d discovered.
“I’m not so sure I could be as strong as you,” I continued.
“Don’t underestimate yourself.”
“I’m not. It’s true. If something happened to my mother, I would be lost. I wouldn’t have anyone. At least you had your uncle.” It wasn’t a question, but I hoped it would spark a reply from him.
“Yes, I did. I was very lucky.”
My pity was turning into rage, but I remained composed. “Did he teach you everything you know, or did your mother?”
The Pace Page 9
