by Dana Mason
“This isn’t about who’s the boss, this is about my DNA. My family history. I’m not trying to demand things from you, I’m trying to figure out who I am.”
“You’re Raegan Elizabeth Williams. My daughter. What more do you need?”
“A dad, Mom! I need a dad! Stop being so unreasonable. Stop being like this. I don’t understand, were you raped or something, is that why you won’t tell me?”
Her face goes really red now, and it makes me think I’m spot on, but then she says, “Don’t even think such a thing.” Her expression grows hard as if she’s offended by the idea that my father was a rapist.
“Then tell me!” I shout, now just as angry. Why is she so stubborn? “How would you feel? Huh, Mom? How would you feel if someone kept a secret like this from you? What if your mother did this to you?” I see a flash of something in her blue eyes, then she slides the journal into the drawer of her desk before looking back up at me.
“You think I’m a bad mother? Is that what you’re trying to say to me?” She stands and walks over to the bed before dropping down on it. “Be careful, Raegan. Some things, some words can’t be unsaid.” Her voice is quiet now. Soft, unlike the anger. I probably hurt her feelings, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
“What kind of mother keeps the father a secret? I can’t even understand because you won’t tell me why. And you should follow your own advice. You can’t give me years back with my father. Once they’re gone, they’re gone. Does he even know about me?”
Her face pales a shade, and she shakes her head as if at a loss. “You’re too smart for your own good, Raegan.” She sounds like she’s about to start crying and I’m torn between being glad I’m getting a reaction and feeling bad for making her cry.
“Mom, I think you should try to understand how I feel. Just once… but I guess you can’t because you’re too concerned with how you feel. You’re too selfish to get past your own issues to let me have a dad.”
I half expect her to get up off the bed and approach me, but instead she keeps her eyes on the ground, and a tear slips out from between her long lashes. I feel bad, but I still meant what I said. It’s true. I know I’m being harsh, pushing her, but I need to be like this to make her see it from my perspective.
She reaches for a tissue and wipes her face, then nods. “You’re right. I don’t want to get hurt, but more than that, I don’t want you to get hurt. Do you understand that? It’s not selfishness to want to protect you.”
“Mom, I can take it. I promise.” I walk over and sit across from her on the bed. “I know there’s a chance he won’t want anything to do with us. I get it. I’ll accept that, but I want to try. God, Mom, do you know how hard it is to answer questions when people ask about my dad? Can you imagine what that’s like? What it’s like not knowing where I get my brown eyes from? I’m the only one in the family with dark eyes. Why am I so tall? I’m already taller than you and Grandma. Gramps wasn’t tall either. And what am I supposed to say when my friend’s parents say, wow, Raegan, your mom works at The Sutter, that’s so cool, what does your dad do? I have to stutter through an explanation about how I don’t have a dad. I never know what to say. Gee, thanks for asking but I don’t have a dad. I don’t know my dad. I’ve never met my dad.” I lift my hand then drop it to my side and say, “And the looks they give me, they’re always a little torn between pity and curiosity.”
Mom looks up at me then, and her expression is so sad, but I feel like she’s finally listening to me. “I’m so sorry. You’re right, I’ve been too selfish to realize how hard this is for you.”
“Don’t be sorry… talk to me.”
“I never meant to hurt you. I’ve been afraid of so much for so long.” She scoots back on the bed and crosses her legs, and my heart’s fluttering in excitement. She’s finally going to talk to me. I scoot back too and mirror her position so that I’m facing her.
She picks at the comforter nervously. “I fell in love when I was your age.” She stops suddenly, and her gaze lingers, but then she says, “At least, I thought it was love.”
I roll my eyes and say, “Stop. You don’t have to lie to protect me. I’m not going to go out and get pregnant because you did.”
She chuckles through her tears and says, “All right. Honestly, I did love him. I was thirteen, and he was fourteen. We had met through some mutual friends, but I was never brave enough to talk to him until we ran into each other at the local public pool. He sort of saved me when I got a cramp and couldn’t get to the edge of the pool.”
I already have so many questions, but all I can do is snort. “You’re the best swimmer I know, how could that even happen?”
She grins, and I see a little gleam in her eye… that really makes me believe that she loved him once. “I was faking because I liked him.”
“Mom!”
“I know, but I was sure of what I wanted… sort of like you are now.” She rests her elbows on her knees and says, “He helped me to the side of the pool and then helped me sit up on the ledge.”
“You should drink more water, that’ll help avoid cramps.”
Of course, I already know this, but I nod and say, “Oh, okay. I’ll do that.”
“I brought some water bottles, you can have one.” He hops out of the pool in one leap and walks away. A moment later, he’s back with a bottle. He twists the cap and hands it to me.
I take it and thank him before taking a few sips. I point to the girl next to his little cooler and say, “Who’s that? Is she your girlfriend or something?”
He laughs hard and crinkles his nose. “No! That’s my sister, Diana. I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Oh, sorry.” I sip the water, a little embarrassed now that I openly asked about his girlfriend.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks, and my cheeks get hot.
I shake my head, afraid my voice will squeak if I talk.
“Doesn’t your family have a pool? Why do you swim here?”
“I like to get out of the house and away from my mom. She drives me crazy.”
“How old are you?” he asks.
“I’m almost fourteen. I’m starting Hogan this year.”
“Wait… your parents are letting you go to public school?”
I stare up at him for a moment. How did he know they didn’t want me to go there? “Yeah, but I had to beg them to let me. How do you know that?”
“I didn’t, really.” He shrugs then says, “Your family doesn’t seem like the public school type. I thought you’d go to a private high school.”
“It took me a while to convince her, but once my mom researched the school, she agreed. It’s a pretty good program and still a charter school. You go to Hogan too, right?”
“Yeah, I’ll be a sophomore this year. My sister’s a senior.”
“Cool. Don’t you have a brother too?”
“Yeah, but he’s younger.”
“A dancer, right?” I look around for him, but I don’t see him here. “He’s terrific, too.”
He shrugs as if reluctant to give his brother credit. “How do you know?” he finally asks.
“I took a dance class with him. I wasn’t very good, so I quit.”
This makes him laugh. “I can’t dance at all. Somedays, I can barely walk straight.”
I laugh because I feel the same way about myself. “That’s okay, we can’t all be graceful.”
“I’m going to the movies tonight with a group of friends, do you want to go?” I meet his dark eyes, and he looks a little nervous as he asks, but he can’t be nearly as nervous as I am.
“Yeah, that sounds like fun.”
“He was a year older but not a douche like all the other guys. You know what I mean? He was a nice person. Helping me to the side of the pool was a natural reaction to him… I guess I already knew that when I pretended to need help.”
“You know, Mom, he probably could tell you were faking.”
I laugh because I’m sure she’s right. “He might ha
ve, but not calling me out on it is another example of how nice he was.”
“If he’s so nice, why can’t I meet him?”
She sighs and says, “The situation is very complicated, Raegan. So, so complicated… but I’ll tell you what, I’ll try to find him and when I do, I’ll reach out to him. Once I’ve checked him out, I’ll see if we can set something up.”
I jump into her arms and squeeze her in a tight hug. I don’t want to cry, but I can’t help it. The lump in my throat keeps me from being able to thank her. She pulls back from me and wipes my face. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner how important this is to you. All this time I’ve been worried about you getting hurt… And now I see I’m the one hurting you. I’m sorry, but Raegan, you have to let me do this, okay? Don’t try getting ahead of me. Don’t go out and start your own search. Just be a little patient and trust me. Okay?”
“Okay,” I croak. There’s no way I’m going to tell her I’ve already found him. If I’m careful, she won’t find out. “I hope you know I don’t want you to get hurt either, Mom.”
“I know you don’t, and I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, okay?”
I nod and squeeze her again. I’m so happy and so nervous at the same time.
Five
Rachel
Dear Michael,
Our baby is a year old today. I can’t believe it. She’s so strong and so smart. You’d be proud of her, of course you would… if only you had the chance. She looks so much like you, and she’s stubborn like you. Busy and always moving. Aside from sleeping, I don’t think she’s been still for two minutes together since she was born. She’s curious and sweet and the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen.
I wish you could see her…
I wish I could see you…
I miss you so much. Watching her grow is lonely, fulfilling, heartbreaking, and rewarding all at the same time. It’s the most incredible experience, and I so badly wish I could share it with you.
Every time she makes me laugh, I wish you were there to laugh with me, and every time she makes me cry, I wish you were there to wipe my tears.
You’ll be happy to know, I’m back in school… sort of. I’m homeschooling with a tutor. I’ve also started looking at colleges, although I don’t know why. My only real option is the community college or Sacramento State. It’s not like I can leave my dad’s. Raegan is a full-time job. I can’t raise her on my own while trying to support myself and go to school at the same time. Dad said I can stay in the guest house as long as I’m in school. I feel like it would be stupid not to take advantage of that. Speaking of school, I’ve seen some of your U of O games. You’re still the best player on the field. I’m so proud of you. I hope you’re doing well and I wish you all the happiness.
My plan is to contact you once I’m sure my mother can’t hurt you or your reputation. I’m scared of your reaction, but I know it’s the right thing to do. I have to wait until… well, until I know she can’t spread hurtful rumors about you and ruin your career.
Here’s a fun fact: Raegan cries whenever we sing “Happy Birthday”. She did it on my birthday, Dad’s birthday, and again today for her birthday. What do you think that means?
I love you,
Rachel
Six
Michael
I walk into the cool darkness of the building; over five thousand square feet of warehouse space, including the open gym, Pilates studio, and the yoga room. I click the lights on and then open the roll-up doors. When people first learn about CrossFit, they’re often confused by the warehouse space. We don’t put huge TVs up for them to mindlessly run on treadmills. And we don’t have rows and rows of machines. No, we prefer that people talk to each other. We prefer standing in a circle and facing each other while we work out. We do class workouts specialized for individual needs and strengths.
Our philosophy revolves around building a community. I designed this box for the vast space, with four huge warehouse stalls with high ceilings and roll-up doors. I want open space that leads to an incredible outdoor area for workouts, and even cookouts when the time comes.
We’ve started painting, so I open all the doors to encourage fresh air to clear out some of the paint fumes. Once the space is lit, I inspect the work that’s been done. One more coat of paint and then we can start fitting the stall flooring and installing the rigging.
Just as I get everything opened, Gavin arrives in his paint-stained clothes. “Ready to get to work?” he asks, as he heads into the office to get rid of his backpack.
“Of course… but I was on time. You’re the one who’s late.”
He sneers at me but then gets to work opening paint cans and laying out tarps. Once we’re ready, we both start on the second coat. The music is blaring from the computer, and we’re both working, but as I reload my paint roller, I see this kid outside on a bicycle. She keeps circling the parking lot and peeking inside at what we’re doing.
When she stops in front of the open roll-up door, I give her a little wave. “You okay?” I ask, not sure what else to say.
She nods then points her finger in a circle. “What’s this going to be?”
“We’re opening a CrossFit box.”
With a strange look, she says, “Box?”
I bob my head and say, “That’s what the CrossFit gyms are called. Boxes. It refers to the open warehouse style.”
“Oh, okay… so like a weightlifting type of gym?”
“Yeah, and circuit-style training.” I grin at her and say, “You interested in joining a gym?”
She shrugs and says, “Do I have to be eighteen?”
“Nope, you just need to get a consent form signed. Do you play any sports?”
“Not anymore, but I like basketball, and I used to play soccer.” She gets off her bike and comes closer. “I like the colors. Did you pick them? Are you the owner?”
“I am, but I have two partners.” I point to Gavin and say, “Here’s one of them. This is Gavin. I’m Mike. What’s your name?”
“R-Raegan.” She crosses her arms over her chest awkwardly and looks around. “Can I help you paint?”
“How old are you?” I ask, not sure I can let her help.
“I’m thirteen.”
“Do you live around here?”
“I stay with my uncle after school. He doesn’t live far.”
“You’re not out of school for summer yet?”
“No, my last day is next week.”
I glance over at Gavin, but he just shrugs.
“Your parents gonna get pissed if you come home with paint on your clothes?”
This time she shrugs. “I doubt they’ll notice if I do.”
This makes me feel bad, but maybe that was part of her plan. I give her a long look. She seems pretty mature for her age. “All right, you can help, but wait a second.” I walk into the office and pull a t-shirt out of my bag and toss it to her. “Throw this on over your clothes just in case.”
She grins at that and tugs the shirt on over her head. It hangs down below her hips, and I’m glad. Now she’s pretty well protected. I get a roller and show her how to dip it in the paint and the best way to roll it on the wall.
“Why are you painting over the same color?”
“It’s called a second coat. If you compare this wall to that wall,” I point to the far wall, “you’ll see the difference.”
“Okay, cool.” She gets to work, and so do I. After a while, she starts asking me questions about the gym and the workouts. She’s pretty curious, and I’m happy to see a kid who’s interested in something other than phones, video games, and computers.
When I ask her questions, she’s a little evasive, but I can’t blame her; I’m a stranger, and she doesn’t know me. Every once in a while, her gaze scans beyond the roll-up doors to make sure there are other adults in the area. I’m glad to see she’s watching out for herself, but she probably shouldn’t approach people so easily. She got lucky we’re not predators.
&
nbsp; When the other warehouse tenants around us end their day, and the parking lot starts to clear out, she coolly makes her exit with a couple more questions. “Will you be painting again tomorrow?”
“I hope not,” Gavin says. “We need to finish tonight.”
Her shoulders slump. “Oh.”
“We’ll be here,” I say, “but we won’t be painting. You can hang out if you want. We’ll be working so we can’t entertain you, but if you want to watch us set up the rigging, you’re welcome anytime, Raegan.”
That gets a smile out of her. “Cool. Thanks!”
She rushes over to her bike and says, “I’ll try to come back tomorrow or the next day.”
“See you later.”
She waves as she rides away. I watch to see which direction she goes, just to keep an eye out. Seems odd no one’s checked on her in the last couple of hours, but what do I know about kids? Then again, at thirteen, she isn’t really a kid. I was riding my bike all over Portland at that age.
Rachel was thirteen when I first met her. We were both on summer break and hanging out at the local swim center. Although at the time I didn’t know why she bothered when she had a pool in her backyard. But when I remember what a bitch her mom was, it’s no wonder she wanted to get out of the house as much as possible.
Rachel and I were friends at first. We didn’t really start dating until school started that fall, but we were joined at the hip after that. Of course, at thirteen and fourteen, dating meant we held hands at lunch and talked on the phone all night, which meant sneaking the house phone into our rooms since kids our age didn’t have cell phones back then. Thinking about that twists my gut. Maybe if we’d had our own phones back then, Rachel would have called to say goodbye before leaving.
“Just because the kid is gone doesn’t mean you get to stop working,” Gavin says.
“Right, I know.” I walk over and pick up my roller. “Maybe we should have hired someone to do this shit.”
