by Beth Flynn
“Not yet. My birthday is right after graduation. Almost there, but not yet. How about you? How old are—”
“So what are your plans after graduation?”
He downshifted and slowly glided into a parking spot at the restaurant.
Mimi glanced around the parking lot and wondered why he’d parked so far away when there were so many open spots closer to the restaurant. He answered her unspoken question.
“Dings. Trying to avoid the jerks who don’t care if they slam their car doors into somebody else’s car. I’ve taken care of this truck, and I’m not going to let some careless door-slinger mess it up.”
Turning off the engine, he looked over at her and answered her other question.
“I’ll keep working and go to college.”
They found themselves having so much to say over dinner that they kept interrupting each other. There were no awkward silences or uncomfortable lulls. As a matter of fact, it was just the opposite. Mimi was relieved he never pressed her about her age. They talked about school, friends, dreams, hobbies, even church. But he never asked what grade she was in. She was relieved.
While they were waiting for dessert, Elliott fidgeted uncomfortably.
“It’s getting hot in here. Are you hot?”
“No, I’m not warm at all. Why don’t you roll up your sleeves?” She’d wondered why he was wearing long sleeves. It wasn’t hot, but it was warm out, though she imagined he’d been trying to dress up for her.
He looked away nervously. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
“What do you mean?” She leaned forward.
“I, uh, have a lot of tattoos.” He blushed. “Not all of them are very nice ones. I went through a bad spell. The wrong types of friends. What I put my poor grandmother through.” His blush deepened, and he shook his head.
Mimi smiled. “Most guys would be trying to impress a girl with all of their ink, and here you’re afraid to show me yours. I actually think that’s kind of admirable.”
He looked at her as if he was embarrassed. “There’s more.”
“I’m listening.”
“I don’t usually drive my grandpa’s truck. It’s too nice to take out and drive to school and work.” He looked down. “I normally drive a motorcycle.”
She laughed out loud. “Stop looking so nervous, Elliott. My father has some incredible tattoos, and he drives the baddest Harley around.”
She caught the surprise on Elliott’s face. Then his expression turned to concern.
“Don’t worry, though,” she quickly added. “My dad’s a nice guy. He’s an architect and my mother is a housewife who does accounting part-time. Tattoos and a motorcycle don’t always mean bad.”
At least I don’t think they do. She remembered the things she’d learned about her parents’ past—things she was still learning from Leslie’s interviews with her mother.
He looked relieved and rolled up his right sleeve, held his right arm out to show her.
“This was an early graduation gift to myself. It’s my newest.” He turned his forearm over so she could see it. Mimi’s breath caught in her throat.
“Oh, Elliott, it has to be the most beautiful tattoo I’ve ever laid eyes on! The details are amazing.” Her fingers gently caressed his forearm.
In a quiet voice, he asked, “It doesn’t turn you off? I mean, you don’t think you’re dating some kind of religious freak, do you?”
Mimi stared at the tattoo. It was a cross and had a beautiful vine of flowers intertwined around it. They were detailed and colorful. She peered closer and saw a tiny white dove amongst them. A crown of thorns hung at the top. Drops of bright red blood dripped from it and was spattered on some of the flowers.
“Are you serious? Turned off? No, I’m not turned off. The edges are a little pink. Does it still hurt?”
“No. It’s tender ’cause I’m still having my guy fill in the detail, but it doesn’t hurt.”
He smiled at her but she couldn’t hold his gaze. She looked away.
Something was wrong. “What is it?” His eyes looked sad. “Too much for you? I’ve just unloaded so much on you and you’re probably confused. Is that it? The tattoos, the bad friends, the motorcycle, and now you know I’m a Christian. I’ve just unloaded a total ball of confusion, didn’t I? TMI?”
She shifted in her seat, and the squeak of the vinyl made an embarrassing sound, bringing her out of her thoughts.
“That was not what it sounded like,” she said smiling.
He just smiled back. “What’s wrong then, Mimi? What is it?”
She let out a resigned breath. “I like you, Elliott, and I’m not sure if this is going to matter to you or not. I guess I think it matters, otherwise I would’ve told you up front.”
“Told me what?” He shifted, too, and the seat made the same sound. They ignored it.
“You’re going to be eighteen soon. I—I just turned fifteen.”
Before he could respond, the waitress showed up with their desserts. After asking if there was anything else they needed, she left them alone.
Mimi chanced a glance at Elliott. He was looking at her.
“Whoa. Yeah. I see what you mean. You just turned fifteen, which means you were fourteen not so very long ago.” He leaned back against the booth and stared at his cheesecake.
Mimi watched him. Her own dessert no longer held any appeal.
Then he sat up. “You know what? I don’t care. You are fifteen. I am seventeen. That doesn’t sound so bad. I think the best thing for us to do, for me to do, is meet your parents. Ask them if I can formally take you out. I know there will be limitations, but honestly, Mimi, I like you enough to chance their refusal.”
“What if they do refuse? I mean, I like you, too, Elliott. I don’t want to think about how I’ll feel if they don’t let us see each other.”
“Then let’s not think about it for now. Let’s enjoy tonight, and we’ll talk about when we think it would be a good time for me to meet them. I don’t like sneaking around, but I’m guessing that’s what you did to arrange tonight. Am I right?”
“Yes. They think I’m with a friend, and before you think bad of me, I’ve never lied or snuck around behind their back before.” At least not with a boy. She didn’t want to think about her secret meetings with Leslie as sneaking around. Besides, it was her parents’ fault. If they’d been truthful with her, she would’ve been truthful with them.
“I don’t think bad of you at all.”
She gave him a little smile. “Listen, if you don’t mind seeing me once in a while, just so we can see if we like each other enough to pursue this, see if it’ll be worth it, can we keep it to ourselves just for now? I’m dealing with some really heavy personal things right now, and so are my parents. It might not be good timing to throw into their lives a soon-to-be-eighteen-year-old that their just-turned fifteen-year-old daughter would like to date. Like I said, I’m not one for sneaking around, but I’d like to do it that way for a little bit. Is that okay?”
She couldn’t tell him she’d been talking to a reporter on the sly while trying simultaneously to convince her mother to give an interview about the evil sperm donor. It was too much pressure to try to introduce a potential boyfriend into the mix. No. She’d like to keep Elliott all to herself. At least until after the execution. That would be coming up soon enough.
His brow creased. “I don’t know, Mimi. If things do work out with us, I’ll feel funny meeting your parents knowing I’ve been seeing you behind their back.”
She stiffened. “My parents are in no way perfect, Elliott,” she said, her voice cool. “And as much as I appreciate your concern and respect for their feelings, let’s just say I’m in a place right now in my relationship with them where I’m not certain they deserve it.”
Her change in attitude stunned him, but he didn’t say anything. So she had a feisty side, he mused. That wasn’t so bad.
“As long as it’s before I turn eighteen, though
,” he said finally. “I’m pretty sure if I see you after I’m eighteen, I could get into legal trouble.”
She softened. He was a nice guy, and she could understand his concern.
“It may not matter anyway.” She looked down at her lap. “We may find out we don’t get along so well after all.”
He reached over then, tucked her hair behind her ear. He grabbed her chin and turned her face toward his.
“I can guarantee that will not be the case for me, Mimi. I’ve felt more comfortable with you this last hour than I’ve ever felt with any girl. And it’s not like there have been a lot of them. I’ve had a few girlfriends, but they were always about shopping and gossip. I can tell you’re not like that at all.”
She gave him a smile, and he leaned over, gently kissed her cheek. He signaled to the waitress for their check.
“Now tell me. When can I see you again?” he asked.
Chapter Eighteen
Ginny
2000, Fort Lauderdale (After the Execution)
I’d never felt so invigorated and optimistic after that first trip to the shooting range with Mimi, and the long walk at a local park that followed it.
Tommy had retrieved my guns from the safe like I’d asked him. As I stood in front of the desk in his office and loaded up my range bag with everything we’d need, I could feel his eyes boring into me.
“I’m sorry for telling her what you told me,” I said without looking at him.
He didn’t reply. I stopped what I was doing and looked at him. He didn’t say anything, just stared at me. He looked hurt and unsure of himself.
“No.” My jaw tightened, and I thrust a pair of shooting glasses into the bag. “I take that back. I’m not sorry. I’m tired of being sorry, Tommy. I’m not apologizing for anything anymore.”
“It’s okay, Gin,” he said softly. “I’m just worried she won’t trust me anymore.”
“Well, don’t worry about it. I’m going to have a nice long talk with our daughter today. I’m going to start at the beginning, and we either move forward from here, or we don’t. I’m tired of tiptoeing around my past. I’m tired of tiptoeing around Grizz. Yeah, I said it. The name that’s always been the elephant in the room. Not even the room—every room. The name that’s been lurking around every corner threatening to ruin our happily ever after. I’m so over this, Tommy.”
He smiled at me then, and his expression instantly changed. I thought I knew what he was going to say.
“Does she know the other thing? About you being his son?” I whispered.
The ticking of the grandfather clock sounded louder than it usually did, its steady heartbeat filling the space between us.
“We hadn’t gotten that far, Gin. Leslie could’ve told her, but I doubt it. Mimi told me they’ve had no contact since about three weeks before Grizz died. I’m guessing that’s about the time Grizz beat the shit out of Leslie at the prison. Mimi even admitted she tried to find out from Leslie when the article would be coming out, but the woman has flat-out ignored her.”
I nodded. Good. Leslie took whatever threat Grizz had issued seriously. She was smart to retreat.
I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder and gave Tommy a level look.
“We’re still telling her. You know that, right? I won’t even try to go there today with her, but we will tell her. It’s something we should do together.”
I watched as Tommy ran his hand through his hair. He let out a resigned sigh.
“I can’t say I’m looking forward to that, but yeah, fine. We’ll tell her, Gin. We’ll tell her together.”
I could see the worry and doubt in his expression and my heart ached for him. I walked toward him, kissed him lightly on the lips. The stubble on his chin grazed my own, and I realized my earlier anger had dissolved and was transforming into something else. I was feeling hopeful. Hopeful of a future without secrets. A future where the barrier Mimi had erected, through no fault of hers, was broken down.
I couldn’t blame her for pulling back from us after finding out about Grizz. I should’ve known our past would catch up with us, and if I hadn’t tried to avoid it, I wouldn’t be struggling right now to make things whole again. I wouldn’t have lost three years with my daughter.
As I let myself ponder these things, I could feel something else creeping into my consciousness. It was a feeling I’d not had too much experience with, so I wasn’t sure if it was real or a defense mechanism against my deep-rooted pain of Grizz’s rejection. I could feel an unsettling darkness seeping in. If I didn’t deal with it, it would most certainly rear its ugly head. I thought about the man responsible for all of this, and I congratulated myself for throwing away that bandana.
It’s a good thing you’re not around anymore, Grizz. It’s a good thing you chose to reject me and live the rest of your life away from me.
Tommy must have noticed a change in my expression because he looked down at me, his hands resting on my shoulders.
“What is it, Gin? What are you thinking?”
I stared at a spot on the wall over his left shoulder and, without looking him in the eyes, I answered him in a voice void of emotion.
“I was thinking that if Grizz wasn’t already dead, I’d think about shooting him myself.”
Without waiting for Tommy to reply, I spun and headed toward the front door, shouting, “Mimi, let’s go! I’ll be in the car.”
**********
As we approached the first stop sign in our neighborhood, and before allowing any awkward silences to come between us, I dove in headfirst with Mimi.
“Let’s start with Leslie. I know you talked to her, and I’m sure she shared some of the things I told her with you. I also know the article won’t be coming out.” I glanced at Mimi, who looked slightly surprised. “Tell me how you and Leslie found each other.”
Mimi plunged right in, starting with her first encounter with Leslie at a mall. She was only partway through when my cell phone interrupted us. Mimi looked at it.
“It’s Dad.”
I asked her to put the phone on speaker.
“Hey. You’re on speaker,” I told Tommy.
“Listen, I just wanted to let you know my day changed up a little. I was going to take Jason to practice and stay with him, but Sarah Jo called and wants me to meet her for lunch,” he said.
“Is something wrong with her?” Concern prickled at the edge of my thoughts. I was still focused on my conversation with Mimi.
“No, I don’t think anything’s wrong. I think she may just want to talk about her move and some of Stan’s options.”
This was understandable, but I may have been feeling slightly hurt. I’d reached out to Jo more than once since Grizz’s execution, and she was always busy. I was probably being overly sensitive. Besides, Tommy had done extensive traveling outside the U.S. over the years, and Jo may have just wanted his opinion about some of the places he’d visited. Tommy and Jo had been best friends long before I came on the scene—and I was doing something much more important.
“Well, tell her I still don’t want her to move and that I’m giving you a direct order to talk her out of it.” I laughed. “And tell her I love her.”
“Yeah, I’ll tell her. I don’t know how long I’ll be, so Denise said she’d bring Jason home with her if I’m not back in time to get him.”
I said a mental prayer of thanks. Denise had been a Godsend when it came to helping out with Jason, especially during our brief separation.
“Got it. We’ll all meet back at home later. I don’t know how long Mimi and I will be, either, so we’ll see you when we see you.”
“Okay, honey. I love you. I love you both.”
“I love you too, babe,” I said, then gave Mimi an imploring look. She knew what I wanted and complied without hesitation.
“I love you, too, Dad.”
Good. This told us both Mimi wasn’t upset that Tommy had spilled the beans. I could almost hear the relief in his answer.
“I love you too,
Dreamy Mimi.”
We hung up, and the silence fell between us heavily like a blanket. I wouldn’t let it cover us.
“He hasn’t called you that in a while.” I gave her a sidelong glance as I navigated the busy streets. Dreamy Mimi was a nickname Tommy had given her when she was younger. She was only about five or six when Tommy was trying to get her attention. When he’d asked if she’d been daydreaming again, she’d innocently replied, “No, Daddy. I dream about night things, too. Not just about day things.” He’d started calling her Dreamy Mimi then, and it’d stuck until she was about twelve. It was then that she’d told her father she was too old to be called Dreamy Mimi. It reminded me of when I first started insisting that people call me Ginny instead of Gwinny.
“I told him not to. You know, after I found out about...about...”
“About him not being your biological father?” My voice might have had an edge to it I hadn’t intended.
“I guess I didn’t know if he meant it. If he wanted to be my father, or if it was a job he just got stuck with,” she said quietly. “Dreamy Mimi sounded like more of a taunt, Mom. I can’t explain it.”
“I understand.” And I did.
I filled her in on some things she wouldn’t know about, or have no way of remembering, like the time I’d eavesdropped as Tommy told her a made up story about the Princess Mimi. I told her about the time he’d threatened the father of a little girl who’d mercilessly been bullying Mimi at school. Mimi had been about eight years old and came home crying one day because the new girl, Marigold, had been picking on her. Of course, I’d gone to the teacher and spoken with the girl’s mother, yet the bullying had continued in the privacy of the girl’s restroom and out-of-the-way corners in the library or playground.
