October Breezes Page 8

  The woman turned, and we looked at one another. The long blonde layers spiled around her face attractively, and her make-up perfectly accentuated her eyes and mouth. Even her perfume suggested perfection, and I almost laughed because my dad had been stupid enough to marry a former cheerleader who could never compete with Mom, who was smart and funny and real.

  Al of us lapsed into silence except the twins, who whispered back and forth, often grabbing each other’s hands since the closer one had given up on me. Then they both erupted into fits of giggles, their little pony-tails wagging back and forth as they jabbered.

  Even before we had arrived, I knew we were going to see some dumb kid’s movie, and the neon sign advertised only one title, a cartoon. Why else would he have brought the twins? Stil, I tried to justify this as not a complete loss. Gracie sat between my father and me so I couldn’t even talk to him, then they each hoisted a daughter onto their laps and managed to hold the popcorn bucket between them.

  Although I tried to focus on the movie, Gracie laughed and cooed in my father’s ear, her voice sounding like the twins’. Despite the wriggling toddlers, they even held hands. I also couldn’t stop watching my father cuddling Alie or Amy—who could tel which was which?—and he kissed her forehead. A thick lump blocked my throat, and my vision blurred. That was when I knew my father was dead—at least to me. Turning away, I promised myself not to cry.

  After the movie, we walked through the parking lot, my dad carrying one toddler on his shoulders while Gracie held the other child’s hand, as they sang a nursery rhyme song.

  “Where would you like to eat, Skye?” My father asked, adjusting the little girl on his shoulders.

  I looked at the snowflakes which had grown bigger while we’d been inside. A thicker dusting of white covered the asphalt.

  “I’m not hungry. I’d just as soon go home.”

  My father stopped, and a frown replaced the smile as he lifted the little girl from her perch. “Didn’t your mother get the message about keeping you through dinner?” Snowflakes colected in his hair and melted.

  I nodded and shoved my hands into my pockets. “Yes, she did. I’m not going home because of her. I just want to.”

  He puled out the keys and pushed the remote unlock button. “We’l talk in a minute, Skye. We’ve got to load up the twins so they don’t get sick.”

  A cold wind blew, and I shivered, drawing my coat tighter around me. I knew I could blame the tears on the cold wind. Stil, they had nothing to do with it. Instead, I tried to remember one time my father had held me as he held that little girl. Had he ever once cradled me, afraid to let go?

  No, I didn’t think so.

  I stood in the cold, preferring Gracie would get her former cheerleader butt into the van so I could talk to my dad alone.

  Instead, she took her sweet time loading the little girl—Amy, was it?

  My dad loaded Alie. Once the twins had been securely tucked into the van, my dad joined me.

  “Let’s go eat, Skye,” he said, trying to wrap his arm around me, but I backed away. Frowning even more, he asked,

  “What’s going on?” His hand moved away, and he put it in his pocket. “Why are you acting like this?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, folding my arms over my stomach.

  “You're angry.” Then he shook his head. “Let me guess.

  You’re mother’s been teling you what a loser I am.” He raked his fingers through his hair.

  “No. She doesn’t say a word about you, Dad.” Gracie stared as though teling us to get in the car.

  “What is going on?”

  I leaned against the van. “You said you wanted to take me to the movies; I thought you meant just us, but, as usual, there is no

  ‘us.’ There’s you and Gracie and Amy and Alie. What did you expect—that I would be like Amy or Alie, just happy to be here?”

  He looked around as people walked toward their cars.

  “Lower your voice,” he hissed, his face turning red. In that instant, I realize that I shared nothing except genes with this man.

  I shook my head. “Take a good look at me. I’m not a toddler anymore. I grew up. Without you. I would have given anything to be one of your twins, but I wasn’t that lucky. I don’t have a single memory of sitting on your lap."

  He threw up his hands. “Fine, Skye. Have it your way.

  I’l take you home.” He didn’t wait for my response, and I knew why. He couldn't answer not without making him confess his worthlessness as my father. He jerked open the door and lurched inside before slamming it shut.

  I, too, climbed into the van and slid the seatbelt across my midsection. During the ride, I half listened to my father’s and Gracie's smal talk about the twins. More than ever I felt uninvited in his life, as if I’d ever been invited in the first place. I looked at the snow, and saw that already the street crews had dirtied with sand, tainting the purity with darkness.

  When we puled into the driveway, Mom’s car stil sat there, but al the interior lights had been turned off, suggesting her absence. That was just as wel because I didn’t want to face her right then. As quickly as my father put the van into park, I shot out of the vehicle and slammed the door behind me.

  My father opened his door and hurried after me, catching my arm. “Skye.”

  “Don’t,” I warned him, my voice wild with anger. “I’ve seen what a great family man you are these days, but I don’t fit in, and I never wil. You wanted those two little girls more than you ever wanted me.” The words hit him ful force and he inhaled sharply. His eyebrows furrowed together, and a glazed disorientation claimed his features.

  Swalowing hard, he held my arm even though I tried to pul away. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better father. I don't have an excuse,"

  his voice dropped off. "I wasn’t ready to be a dad, Skye, and you deserved better. So did your mother. I can't change it, but perhaps one day you'l forgive me." He paused, waiting for me to make it easier. Wel, he could wait until Hel froze over. "I’l cal you soon.” He squeezed my arm. “Do you have a house key?”

  “Yeah.” I started up the walk, my fingers rubbing where he'd touched.

  “I realy am sorry.” He stared at me, his hands deep in his pockets as snow colected on his leather jacket and in his dark hair.

  “That makes two of us, but I don’t have any reason to be sorry. I wanted you to love me, and you never did.”

  "That's not true," he caled.

  "Whatever." I hurried up the walk and unlocked the door.

  From my peripheral vision, I saw him amble to his van.

  Once I unlocked the door, I slipped inside and slammed it shut before leaning against it. Immediately the grief punched my abdomen, knocking me to my knees as sobs shuddered through me.

  “Oh God,” I whispered. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.” I rocked back and forth, and my heart panicked and sped up as my body trembled convulsively. “He realy didn’t want me.” Draping my arms around my legs, I compacted myself into a tight bal.

  No matter how I tried, I couldn’t shake the image of my father holding my half-sister on his lap. I could see love in his eyes as he kissed her—a love he’d never once offered to me. I kept trying to brush the tears away, but I couldn’t keep up with them.

  My hands trembled, much like a soda which had been shaken and waited to explode. I needed to talk to someone, someone I could trust.

  Devin.

  I strode through the house and into the backyard where the trampoline sat, covered in a white snow. This was the first snow that Devin and I weren’t having a snowbal fight. We weren’t even realy speaking, and it was kiling me. I pressed my hands into the inch-thick snow and left my prints, as if I could just turn back the hands of time by doing that. But the snow continued to fal, filing in the indentions my hand had left. I had changed nothing.

  Trembling, I went back through the house and stepped onto the front porch. I locked the door and ran down the street, stopping a house away from De
vin’s, grateful to see his car was parked in the driveway. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  Cutting across the lawn, I'd almost made it to the front door when it opened; Devin and Bethany stepped outside. Devin stopped short when he saw me. He wore a black sweater and jeans. His beauty struck me. “Skye, what are you doing here?” His car keys jingled in his hand.

  My hand immediately touched my face, as though my fingers could erase the mascara stains. Blackness smudged my fingertips. I looked at Bethany, realizing for the first time I saw how beautiful she was--prettier than I'd ever be.

  “Helo, Skye.” She nodded her greeting and then touched Devin’s arm. “I’l wait in the car.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’l be right there.” Then he turned back to me. He reached for my hand and squeezed softly. “God, are you al right?” He stepped closer and leaned toward my face.

  I looked at Bethany getting into the car, and I puled from him. “I…I’m fine.”

  He frowned and stepped closer. An expression somewhere between worry and exasperation settled on his face.

  “You don’t look fine. You look like the world is crashing around you.” He tried to catch my elbow, but once again I dodged him.

  “Your girlfriend is watching.”

  “What?” He looked at me and then at Bethany before shaking his head. “She is a girl and she is my friend, but that’s where it ends. There’s nothing between us.” He slipped his hand beneath my chin and brushed his finger across my face. “You’ve been crying, and I want to know what’s up. Why did you come here? Is it Kelin?” A dangerous fury glinted in his eyes.

  I stiffened and laughed causticaly. “No, it’s not Kelin.

  He’s not the root of all evil.” My gaze drifted back to Bethany.

  “And it doesn’t matter." I grabbed his hand to move it, wishing I could lean against him but knowing it wasn't possible; I let it go.

  “What's going on?” He tapped his foot in frustration.

  “Nothing.” I pointed to where Bethany sat. “I’m not going to hold you up.” I shoved my hands into my pockets, not only because they were cold, but more importantly, I didn’t want him to see me shaking. He’d know it had nothing to do with the temperature.

  “I have to get Bethany home," he agreed reluctantly. She has to babysit her sister.” He puled out his keys. “You want a ride home? We could talk on the way. Besides, you’re shaking like crazy.”

  Only where no coat or heater could ever warm, I thought. I shook my head. “No, thanks. It’s not far, and I can walk.” I turned away.

  “Are you al right?” Devin’s voice, so quiet, so calm, belied his concern. "I'm worried about you."

  I laughed, feigning indifference. “I’l be fine, and you don’t need me bugging you.”

  “You’re not—“

  “I’l see you around,” I said, knowing I wouldn’t. The last thing I ever wanted was to be to anyone's burden. I started walking and tried not to think. The snowflakes had grown to quarter-size as they fel faster and faster, colecting in the grass. White peaked from the dead stubble covering the ground.

  I arrived home to an empty house, stil thinking of Devin and Bethany. He had said they weren’t dating, but I knew better.

  An ache cut deeply as I imagined them together in my mind, Devin's darker complexion complementing her fair skin as he walked her to the door. Then she would turn toward him. Their eyes would meet.

  Devin would slip his arm around her and slowly duck his head until his lips could meet hers. They would kiss.

  I forced my eyes open, trying to drive away the image. I thought about caling Kelin, but I knew that I could never explain this—you had to be there. Devin had been. Devin had always been there.

  Until now.

  Chapter Ten

  I hid in my bedroom, ignoring the ringing telephone, guessing Devin or Kelin was caling. I didn't want to talk to either of them. Instead, I preferred the book Warren had given me to being around another person, and, after lying in bed with a quiet house to myself, I finished the novel. Saddened, I wished for a father like Atticus Finch. I didn't want someone perfect, just somebody who could make everything seem al right even if it wasn’t—or at least make it better.

  Why had Warren given me this book? I was nothing like Scout and he was far from being Atticus Finch. So why? I closed my eyes, and despite the harsh fluorescent lighting, I drifted to sleep, my hands stil clutching the novel.

  “Skye?” A faraway voice caled, and I tried to fight the sleep fogging my brain. “Wake up, Skye.”

  My eyelids fluttered open. Mom leaned over me, a worried frown wrinkling her face. She perched next to me.

  I brushed my hand across my face, realizing that I stil probably had the raccoon smudges around my eyes. “Oh, hi, Mom.” I tried to check the time, but the clock faced the other way.

  “What time is it?”

  Glancing at her watch, she replied, “Almost six.” She plucked fuzz from the comforter. “I thought you’d be gone until late. Your father said he was taking you to dinner. Did you eat?”

  "Yeah, I ate," I said, wondering which food group popcorn fit into.

  "Skye," Mom warned. "Did you eat dinner?"

  "No, I didn't. We had a change in plans,” I said, sitting up .

  To Kill A Mockingbird fel into her lap.

  “How’s your book?” she asked, picking it up and reading the back cover.

  “Good.” I looked at my reflection. My hair appeared wild, as though I hadn’t brushed it, and dark mascara shadows shaded below my eyes. I tried to rub off the blackness, but she'd already seen it.

  “So how was your father?” She adopted a quiet, seemingly indifferent tone, but she nervously clutched the bedspread, her fingers picking it. Although she looked in my general direction, our gazes did not meet.

  Here goes nothing, I thought. “You know dad.” I brushed the hair from my eyes.

  “I knew your dad once,” she said. “But that was before the mini-van and haircut.” She touched my hand, her fingers gently stroking mine. “Besides, I’m sure how I feel about him. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  I frowned. “Why? Are you worried that I might want to spend more time with him?”

  “No.” Mom stood and paced the room. “No matter how I feel about your dad, if you want to spend time with him, I'l accept that. Not because I have to but because it’s what you want.” She faced me. “Your father and I had issues when we were married.

  You know that.” She ambled to the fabric board where I'd thumbtacked pictures of Devin and me. I'd thought about taking them down, but it would leave this huge bare spot since I didn't yet have any photos of Kelin.

  “Yeah,” I said, nodding. “And I was one of those issues, wasn’t I?”

  She flinched and closed her eyes.

  “I was, wasn’t I?”

  She sat on the bed and patted my knee. “There’s no point in going there, Skye. The past can’t be changed.”

  I drew my knees to my chest. “I’m not talking about the past, Mom. I was okay with the past, okay with knowing he didn’t care one way or another. Yeah, I was mad, but that's normal. Then he cals to say he wants to spend time with me, that he wants to take me to the movies.” I stopped talking because tears stung my eyes, and the last thing I wanted to do was cry. I chewed my lip as panic surfaced. It felt like hundreds of butterflies had suddenly been set free in my stomach, and each breath was choppier than the last.

  “What did your father do?” she asked tersely. She rubbed her forehead, her fingers circling a smal spot. I clenched my jaw, recognizing the familiarity of the gesture. Whenever stressed, she rubbed her temples.

  “Nothing.” I rested my chin on my knees.

  “I know better than that. What happened?”

  “Nothing.” I closed my eyes, wishing the whole world would melt away.

  She grabbed my arm. “Look at me, Skye.” When I refused, she put her finger under my chin. “I said look at me!”

  I
slowly met her gaze. “What?”

  “You can either talk to me, or I'l cal your father. Either way, I’l get to the bottom of it.”

  “And then?” I jerked away. “No matter how much you love me, you can’t change that dad married a former cheerleader three years past her high school expiration date. He brought her to the movies, and she sat between us the whole time. And there’s nothing you can do about the twin daughters he has—Amy and Alie

  —the ones he spent the whole movie tickling and cuddling. I kept asking myself why he caled."

  My throat constricted. The panicked racing of my heart filled me. I suddenly burst into tears that shook me so hard that if my mom hadn't held on so tightly I would have broken.

  Mom’s hands guided me as I laid my head in her lap where she gently brushed her fingers through my hair while I cried. When I was smal, she’d often done that until I drifted to sleep. “At one time I used to regret your father. I felt so angry and alone even when we were newly married. Then I found out I was going to have a baby.

  Your father wasn’t ready for that. But from the moment I found out about you, I spent hours wondering who you would look like, and I couldn’t wait to meet you. And the first time I saw you, I cried with happiness. It was because of you, Skye. Al because of you.” Her fingers brushed my cheek. “I stopped regretting your father because he had given me the one thing I'd never want to live without—you. I know that I can’t make up for his indifference, but even though you have one parent who doesn't give you the time of day, you also have one, me, who loved you before you were born. That love has only grown each day we’ve been together.” She rested her head atop mine and gently stroked my hair, brushing through the length of it.

  When I finaly puled away, I saw that she, too, had tears shining as they spiled down her face.