Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Fuuuuuck meeeee,” I moaned quietly. Frowning, I rubbed my sore shoulder and listed all the reasons I didn’t need to go down there.
She wasn’t my problem. I couldn’t solve hers. She was a total stranger. I was good with crying kids, not crying grownups. She would be embarrassed if she knew I’d seen her. I’d be embarrassed.
But even as the list grew, I found myself tugging a shirt over my head and pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants. I glanced at my hair in the mirror over my dresser and saw it sticking up on one side pretty badly, so I grabbed a cap and tugged it on as I left my room.
On my way out to the yard, I yanked a handful of tissues from a box on the kitchen counter. When I pushed open the back door, she looked up, startled.
“Oh!” she said, frantically wiping away her tears. “I’m so sorry. Did I wake you?”
“I’m a light sleeper, and the windows are open.” I dropped into the chair next to her. “We should be quiet, though, so we don’t wake the kids.”
“Of course,” she whispered. “Sorry.”
I held out the tissues. “Here.”
“Oh. Thank you.” She sounded surprised. Our fingers touched as she took them from my hand, and I immediately pulled mine back, conscious of the heat that traveled up my arm.
She dried her tears and blew her nose while I tried not to stare at those long, bare legs in the moonlight. Crickets chirped, and a warm breeze whispered through the leaves of the red oak on the back lawn.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yes. But also no.”
“You had a rough day.”
“Yeah.”
“Look, I’m sorry about the interview. I didn’t mean to come off as rude. I just don’t like surprises, and Mabel sort of sprung you on me. To be honest, I’m not sure I’d hire any stranger to live here and take care of my kids, whether they were qualified or not.”
“It’s not that.”
I looked at her. “Is it the guy?”
“No.” She hugged her knees to her chest, her bare feet on the edge of her chair. “I lost my mom last summer, and I feel like it’s hitting me all over again. I just feel really alone.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, but my chest felt tight too. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. We were close—it was just the two of us when I was growing up. She worked so hard to give me a good life. She cleaned houses during the day and waitressed at night. Probably half her pay went to a sitter for me, until I was old enough to stay on my own. Then all her money went to my dance training. She also cleaned the studio and sewed costumes so I’d get a break on tuition.”
“You didn’t have any other family around?”
She shook her head. “I wish. My mom got pregnant with me when she was eighteen and the guy took off when she told him. She asked her parents for help, but they were very religious and told her she had sinned and shamed herself and her family.”
“So you’ve never met your father?” It was unfathomable to me—abandoning your own child.
“Never. And I don’t want to.” She paused. “I did meet my grandparents once.”
“Your mother’s parents?”
She nodded. “My mom took me to their farm once when I was four. I think she was hoping enough time had gone by that they’d be more forgiving. Or maybe she was hoping they’d see me and feel some kind of instinctual love, but . . . it didn’t happen.”
I tried to imagine it—being rejected by your own grandparents, right there, face to face. “That’s . . . that’s tough.”
“I remember sitting in the living room with their dog listening to them fight with my mom in the kitchen. I remember being scared and hearing a lot of words I didn’t understand. They seemed so mad at her.”
“I’m sorry.” It was hard not to contrast her experience with mine. When I told my dad about the twins, and how I was going to raise them on my own, he was proud of me. No questioning my decision, no judgment of me or Sansa. He was actually excited to be a grandpa.
“Eventually my mom came to the living room and got me,” Veronica went on. “She grabbed me by the hand and we walked out. I never saw them again. No birthday cards, no Christmas gifts, nothing.”
“Sounds like you were better off without them.”
“After that we went and got ice cream. I had vanilla with rainbow sprinkles.”
I looked over at her, and she suddenly looked so young, her chin resting on her knees, her eyes luminous in the dark. “You actually remember what flavor you had that day?”
“It was always my favorite. It still is.”
I nodded slowly, sort of wishing I could buy her a vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles right this second.