Wanderlove - Rachel Blaufeld

by Rachel Blaufeld

  She shrugged and started putting on her sandals.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  “Yeah, a little sad. I miss my dad. It’s not that I don’t want to see him. I just don’t want him to go all judgy-judgy. And I need to find my mom. I’m close. Did you know Bev knows her? Or her mom?”

  “What?” I stood up straight after hooking Tuck to his leash.

  “It’s a coincidence how it all happened, and I haven’t told Bev yet.”

  “Em, you need to tell her. Even I know that.”

  “Later. Right now, I’m way too close. I have to get to meet my mom.”

  I took Emerson’s hand, and we walked quietly to the elevator. Once we were downstairs, I pulled her close. “When I get back from visiting my family, we need to have dinner, and you can tell me how you figured this all out. You sure you’re not a spy?”

  This got me a laugh.

  “I’m sure.”

  I handed her a crisp Benjamin, waved over a cab, and waited for her to get in. “I hate this. You could stay, or I could take you.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, sliding into the seat.

  “Text me when you’re home. And think about next weekend with your dad,” I told her before shutting the door. I’d rather go with her, but Emerson needed to think she was independent. I could tell that was half the issue with her dad—asserting her independence.

  It was the same with mine.

  I walked Tuck around the block, watching his tiny bum shake and him tugging against the leash, taking my mind off my impending trip.

  Emerson

  The bar was crushed on Thursday night. I barely had a moment to look up from mixing drinks.

  When I finally did, there was Bev dancing with the bunny. She stood behind him, shaking her hips, leaning out to the side so everyone could see her face.

  She’d been here for a few hours, downing cosmos, letting loose. Her mom had told her she was coming back to work, and there was nothing Bev could do about it. Bev told me this over her first drink, sucking it back faster than I thought possible. Mostly, she was worried this would cause her mom to fall sick again. Even though she knew it wasn’t connected.

  “Woo-hoo, I want to take the bunny home with me,” she said, bellying up to the bar.

  I set a water in front of her, and she gulped it back without arguing.

  “Maybe another night,” I told her, eyeing the bunny moving on to a guy, who I was pretty sure was more his flavor.

  “Are you done yet?” she asked.

  Her hair flopped to the side, revealing her long neck and delicate hoop earrings. Even in a dark bar, surrounded by drunks, halfway to trashed herself, Bev was a flower, meant to be a dancer.

  “Another hour. Do you want to crash at my place?”

  “Yesss. And then we can have bagels in the morning?”

  “Of course. And maybe I’ll come to the bakery and help?”

  “Sure. My mom’ll be there, so that’ll be good. I’ll have anotherrr,” she said, her words starting to slow and slur.

  “Stick with the water, babe.”

  Bev frowned but didn’t argue.

  “Go dance some more, sweat it out.”

  “On my way,” she said, already half off her stool.

  I worked another hour, cleaned up with Randy, collected my tips, and decided on a cab, considering Bev’s condition.

  Back at my place, we both crawled under the covers, Bev’s soft snores filling the room. Sleep escaped me, so I slipped out from the sheets, not that anything would wake Bev. With a cup of tea in hand, I sat on the windowsill and thought about what Price had said.

  I had to tell Sheila and Bev. Tomorrow.

  Endless scenarios ran through my mind, sleep evading me until the sun began to peek over the horizon. Lucky for me, Bev was fast asleep, and didn’t even flinch when I crawled back into bed.

  At noon the next day, we had bagels before making our way to the bakery.

  “Swear I didn’t embarrass myself?” Bev asked me over a strong coffee.

  “You didn’t. You were totally fine. Having fun, that’s it.”

  “Ugh, my head hurts.”

  “Drink some more coffee.”

  “I need a cheeseburger with fries.”

  “Want to go get one? I’ll take one for the team.”

  We were sitting in a hole-in-the-wall bagel joint in midtown on our way to the bakery, both of us in my jean cutoffs and tanks, Bev’s clothes from the night before forgotten at my place.

  “No can do. If I want to keep dancing and maybe, just maybe, go back to school, there are no cheeseburgers in my future. Last night was already enough of a no-no.”

  “You should go back to school. Your mom’s coming back to work, and you shouldn’t worry. Plus, maybe I can help her. Like I’ve said.”

  “How ’bout you go to school?” Bev eyed me above her disposable coffee cup.

  “I will, once I find my mom.”

  “Are you any closer?”

  I nodded, thinking I would wait to say something until we were all together, when I was rescued by the ding on my phone.

  Heya stranger was all it said with a picture of Tuck.

  Against my better judgment, I felt my mouth pull into a huge smile.

  “What?” Bev asked, staring straight at my grin.

  “Did you see Price’s new puppy?” I showed Bev the phone.

  “Aw, look at him. What are you waiting for? Answer the hottie back.” She shoved the phone back at me.

  “I usually wait a few to answer.”

  “Why? There’s no stupid rules, and he’s obviously missing you.”

  I didn’t care to explain my nerves over his obvious wealth of experience versus mine, or the nagging need to make up with my dad . . . and how that might be impossible now. Rather, I picked up my phone and tapped away at a response, leaving Bev sitting there smug-faced.

  All good here. Hanging with Bev. And going to bake.

  Almost immediately, the phone dinged again.

  Tell her.

  “He’s busy,” I told Bev and tucked the phone away in my bag. “Let’s go. I don’t want to keep your mom waiting anymore.”

  “Fine,” she mumbled.

  “These are incredible.” I shoved almost an entire cookie in my mouth. “This is the best part of baking. Sampling,” I said to Sheila.

  We’d made a batch of the boyfriend cookies, adding what could be different signature items to a few. My hair was up in a messy bun, my mouth full of warm cookie, and my heart heavy with the need to come clean.

  “I like the ones with the white chocolate chips,” Bev said, taking tiny tastes of various cookies.

  “Me too,” I mumbled around half of another cookie.

  “Your sweet tooth is pretty impressive.” Sheila stood at the sink, her spiky hair hidden underneath a pink-and-purple scarf.

  “My dad’s is pretty bad too. I guess he gave it to me. We had dessert almost every night after dinner. I’m sure the PTA moms would’ve been disgusted to find that out. God, it smells like heaven in here . . .” I took a whiff, accentuating the inhale. “Like crack,” I joked.

  “I was allowed one treat per week,” Bev said. “Don’t fall so hard for my mom.”

  “Not my fault. That was all your ballet instructor,” Sheila told her. “I was just following orders, like a good mom.”

  “Whatever, it doesn’t matter now. We’re eating cookies after all. Now I can eat and eat. By the way, the coconut is yummy too.” Bev leaned back against the counter, her hair slicked back in a low ponytail, only half a smile on her face.

  “Give me some.” I snatched a bite, walking closer to the one person who’d quickly become my friend.

  We were standing side by side at the counter, a tray of cookies in front of us. I didn’t know what having a sibling would actually feel like, but I’d always dreamed of having one. A great huge mystery to me, like a unicorn, but I wanted one, nonetheless.

  “What about your mom?” Bev asked af
ter swallowing, almost as if she was asking about the weather or what subway I took. “Do you wonder about that? Maybe she had a sweet tooth too.”

  The words came out of her mouth easily. Not because she was trying to hurt me, but rather she thought we were kindred spirits. Both with single parents, always wondering about the parent who left.

  I shrugged, but I couldn’t get rid of the awful feeling dogging me. Again, not her words, just the awful contradiction of my current situation. Surrounded by the sweet smell, sugary smiles, and presumed love all around me, and here I was lying to these women.

  My dad had fucked up along the way, but he hadn’t raised me to be a sneak. That’s what got my ass to New York in the first place. I couldn’t sneak around and sleep with Robby. I had to be forthcoming with my overly concerned single father. Christ, I was an absolute idiot.

  Finally, my guilt got the best of me. I didn’t want to come clean, but these were my friends, and I didn’t want to lie to them. Lying was wrong—my dad had taught me that.

  “Um, I should tell you both something.”

  “What, honey?”

  When Sheila actually stopped what she was doing, giving me her full attention, I wanted to take a picture of her loving expression and keep it for later. Who knew when I would have it again? Maybe never.

  “This is hard to say.” I wrung my hands in front of me, wishing I could be mixing batter, anything to take my mind off what was about to unfold. I yanked my hair out of the bun and let a few loose strands fall forward, shielding my face, and hopefully my emotions. My eyes burned, and the shiny bakery floor before me turned blurry.

  “This is a safe zone. We’ve been gal pals for almost all of Bev’s life. You can say anything, right, sweetie?” Sheila looked to Bev for backup. “What happens at the bakery, stays at the bakery.”

  Although she said it, I wasn’t sure she’d still feel that way after I came clean.

  “That’s the thing,” I said. “For all my life, it’s only been my dad and me. He didn’t want me to look for or wonder about my mom, but I couldn’t help myself. He tried to be enough, to be both my mom and dad, but no matter how much he sheltered me, my heart wondered. I’d lie in bed at night, dreaming of my mom. What she was doing, what she looked like. Did she miss me? Think about me? Don’t get me wrong, he was great, and how I treated him this summer was bad. I was acting spoiled, like a big baby.”

  “That’s only natural,” Sheila said gently, not knowing what I was about to say.

  “I kept a lot from him. I’d open the window blinds at night and look at the stars. I’d find an unusually bright one and pretend it was my mom looking out for me. I’d talk to her . . . not her,” I said, grabbing at my forehead. “At a dumb star that couldn’t hear me. I’d talk about my period or boys or the girls in my class, whatever was bothering me. It was never above a whisper, because I didn’t want my dad to know I was doing it. Then things went shitty with my dad.”

  “It happens. Teenagers,” Sheila murmured. “That’s part of growing up. I hate to say it, but it’s the truth, honey.”

  “Well, he and I had a big fight at the start of the summer, over a boy, and I kind of walked away. Ran away. Although he watched me do it. I decided to look for my mom here—because she’s from New York. I blew a lot of cash, and honestly, I didn’t know what I was doing. Just chasing after a name and not knowing much about her. It’s didn’t get me far, just broke. It was more like a wild goose chase. Anyway, then I walked into this bakery and struck gold. I didn’t plan it, but it happened. And I couldn’t help myself, I kept chasing my mom. And during that process, I fell in love with you two. It was wrong of me not to say anything—”

  “What do you mean?” Bev turned to face me. “In this bakery? What does that have to do with your mom? You’re not making sense.”

  “Let her talk,” Sheila insisted, as if she knew what the next words out of my mouth were going to be.

  “I mean, the painting. It was signed Paula Dubois. That’s my mom. Or at least, that was her name when my dad knew her. So, I think it’s my mom. She did like art, I heard. I was so shocked when I saw it, I had to stop myself from cheering. My mom! I couldn’t believe it. And then you got to rambling, Bev, and we became fast friends, and it wasn’t two-faced or spiteful, I swear! You’re my only genuine friend . . . except I kept this tiny secret. I wanted to hear more about my mom. At the time, it felt innocent, like I found a friend and my mom all at once. Like God was finally on my side, sending me two amazing things at the same time.”

  Bev paced in front of us, her expression furious. “So you took advantage of my sick mom, took her painting, and what? You were going to suck every last piece of information from her, and then leave us? Doesn’t sound like you really valued our friendship like you’re saying.” She clenched her fists and stopped in her tracks. “Well?”

  “No. I swear. It all just happened. Price said I should tell you, which is why I am. He was right, even though this is gutting me.”

  “Who?” Sheila asked. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to keep track of everyone involved.”

  “Price, her boyfriend or whatever. He’s irrelevant.” Bev’s head swiveled back and forth between the two of us.

  “Well—”

  Before Sheila could finish her sentence, Bev cut in.

  “He is, Mom. He means nothing. Just a stupid boy,” Bev spat. “This is all stupid. Look, Emerson, I don’t know what you hoped for. Some juicy gossip, a beautiful family reunion, to use me and my mom, or who the hell knows. But none of that is going to happen. What can I say?”

  Glaring at me, Bev went on. “You and I are not friends. And your mom—if she is your mom—she’s got a ton of problems. Starting and ending with swallowing anything that makes her feel good. Drugs, alcohol, whatever. She can’t even take care of herself, let alone you. You should be happy she’s not in your life. Look at my mom, her best friend, suffering with cancer, and you’d think Paula would be here? Nope. That’s Paula, the famous Paula Dubois you’re looking for. Selfish to the core.”

  Sheila held up a hand. “I don’t think you’re being very kind, Bev. Stop.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she didn’t make her way toward me. She placed her hands over her cheeks, and her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. “Oh God, you’re Paula’s daughter. I remember when she had you.”

  “I’m being more than kind, Mom. We don’t need someone to use us for Paula.” Bev continued to glare at me, but her mom ignored her.

  “You look a lot like your dad. I’ve only seen a picture, one picture, a long time ago.” Sheila sat on a kitchen stool and caught her breath. “Your mom had such a major crush on him. She loved him, or thought she did, but her parents wouldn’t have any part of it. And then she ended up pregnant. They were irate, sent her to some spa place for the duration, kept her out of the Upper East’s eye. At first, she refused to put you up for adoption. She came home to deliver you in New York, demanding her parents accept you. Only a few days later, she said she couldn’t do it. I had Bev at that point, and couldn’t do much for her.”

  Biting my lower lip, I thought about what she’d just said. “So, I’m the reason for all of her problems?”

  Sheila shook her head. “No. She’d dabbled for a while in drugs. I think the only time she’d been under control was the month she’d stayed with your dad, and then while she was pregnant with you. After that, it was a brutal spiral. She’d do well and then not so well. For a while, she held it together. Was teaching and painting. Then she got married to someone else, but he was a man of few words and a lot of money. She blew through a big chunk of his cash, and he ended up walking out.”

  I don’t know why I cared, but I asked, “Didn’t anyone try to help her?”

  “For real?” Bev glared daggers at me. “I spent my childhood watching my mom try to help her. When that dickhead husband of hers got smart, she really fell apart and stopped talking to anyone. Been ‘on leave’ ever since.” She used air quotes, her finger
s slashing the air.

  Sweat beaded along my lip and behind my neck. This wasn’t what I wanted for anyone. For me, my mom, or Bev and Sheila. “You acted like she was so nice when I asked about the painting.”

  “Because my mom always insisted we don’t tell tales or stories about others’ hardships. Now that it’s your reality, I don’t give a crap. God, I thought you were going to be my friend.” She slammed her fist onto the counter. “Now you got what you really came for. Now you have the awful truth.”

  Sheila stepped toward me. “Paula always regretted leaving you, but she wasn’t in the right way to find you, do you get that? I didn’t encourage her to keep you, and maybe that was wrong, but she was a mess. And no one wanted to hand that over to you.”

  Bev scoffed. “So, Paula suffered? And you feel guilty about it? Mom, let Emerson be. She asked for this. She had a good dad, a good life, love, and none of this was her burden.” Bev turned to me, her face pinched. “I want you to go, Emerson. Leave. Just go. I can’t do this. I’ve had to give up everything important in my life, and this is one more thing.”

  I didn’t argue or plead my case. Without another word, I turned and left. After all, Bev asked me to.

  Sheila called after me, “Emerson! Wait.”

  The pull of her daughter was stronger than me, and Sheila didn’t chase me. Was I surprised?

  Not one bit.

  I ran with my tail between my legs, all the way back to my apartment . . . and picked up the phone.

  Emerson

  “Dad!” The second the call connected, I began to sob. I didn’t even wait for him to say hello.

  “Emerson, what’s wrong?” Immediately, he went into Dad Rescue Mode. That’s why I called him. When I wanted something fixed, I ran to my dad. He’d been my constant.

  “Did you know?” My heart pounded at a furious pace while I waited for him to answer, afraid of what he might say. Would I feel differently about him if he had?

  I’d fallen on my bed in my shitty apartment, in a heap of dirty clothes and tears, missing my bedroom at home for the first time since coming to New York.