his perfect little life?”
“It’s not that simple, though. Nothing is that black or white.”
“Except a child ,” Joy said. “Your father got a woman pregnant, and when he was informed of that, he disappeared. What’s gray about that?”
“I just think if you read his letters to you, you would—”
“Rebecca, look. I understand why you tracked me down. I get that. And again, I’m sorry you lost your father. But he’s not my father. You’re not my sister. There’s no family connection here. I’m sorry.”
But you’re my father’s daughter. You are .
“If you’d just read the letters, Joy—”
Joy stood and reached into her handbag for some bills, which she put under her drink. “I’d like you to leave in the morning, Rebecca. And I mean head back to New York City.” She walked over to the dance floor and whispered something in Victoria’s ear. Victoria nodded, kissed Joy on the cheek, and resumed dancing. And Joy walked right out of the restaurant.
No, no, no! How had this happened? One minute they weretalking math and bulls and alpacas, whatever alpacas were; they were talking life and paths, and the next, Joy and the closed door were back.
Her heart squeezing, Rebecca supposed that meant she should sleep on the chintz-covered sofa in the parlor, after all.
six
Two hours later, Rebecca was driving back north in a rental car courtesy of Joy Jayhawk’s Weekend Singles Tours, Jed biting at cuticles in the passenger seat. His mother, with whom he still lived, had called him complaining of both chest pain and foot pain, and so Jed had asked Joy if he could apply his unused tour to a future date. Joy had said of course, then added that “Rebecca will be happy to drive you home.”
So that was that. Joy had managed to get rid of her even sooner than she’d intended. At the car rental agency, Joy had handed her a printout of a Google map and driving directions, a twenty-dollar bill for gas, and not even a forced smile.
“I don’t know what to do here,” Rebecca had said. “I feel like this is it. You gave me a chance and I blew it and now this is it. I’m gone.” Your eyes are just like our dad’s. And your chin, too .
“We’re not family,” she’d said in such a low voice that Rebecca had to lean in, which made Joy step back. “Words, labels, whatever, don’t mean anything in and of themselves.”
But —Rebecca stood there, not knowing what to plead, howto fix this. “I totally agree. But we can at least talk, can’t we? Just talk?”
Joy sighed and glanced away, then back. “Rebecca, I am all talked out. I’m sorry, but I’ve been talking and talking and talking for a while now. I don’t want to talk anymore. I’m sorry if that sounds cold.”
Jed had walked over, his cell phone in hand. “That was my mom again. Her right big toe is tingling really bad. Anyone know what that’s a symptom of?”
During the ride back home, he chatted nonstop about his mother and her ailments and his need to break free, move out, that Ellie was great and all, but that he had a little crush on Maggie, and did Rebecca think Maggie might go out with him, or did a guy like him have no chance with a guy like Clinton around? Rebecca dropped him off at his place with the assurance that the best thing to do in life, under any circumstance, was to ask for what you wanted.
“That is really good advice,” Jed said. “Really good.” Then he gave her hand a squeeze and headed up the path to his home, suitcase bumping his thigh.
Joy had instructed Rebecca to return the car to an agency in Brunswick, right off the highway. Apparently, someone would be happy to drive Rebecca to Joy’s house to pick up her own car.
Someone was. Someone even chattier than Jed had been: “You’re from New York? I just came back from there—family vacation. Have you ever been to the top of the Empire State Building? What about the Statue of Liberty? I climbed up to the chin when I was a kid. Someone behind me
“It’s not that simple, though. Nothing is that black or white.”
“Except a child ,” Joy said. “Your father got a woman pregnant, and when he was informed of that, he disappeared. What’s gray about that?”
“I just think if you read his letters to you, you would—”
“Rebecca, look. I understand why you tracked me down. I get that. And again, I’m sorry you lost your father. But he’s not my father. You’re not my sister. There’s no family connection here. I’m sorry.”
But you’re my father’s daughter. You are .
“If you’d just read the letters, Joy—”
Joy stood and reached into her handbag for some bills, which she put under her drink. “I’d like you to leave in the morning, Rebecca. And I mean head back to New York City.” She walked over to the dance floor and whispered something in Victoria’s ear. Victoria nodded, kissed Joy on the cheek, and resumed dancing. And Joy walked right out of the restaurant.
No, no, no! How had this happened? One minute they weretalking math and bulls and alpacas, whatever alpacas were; they were talking life and paths, and the next, Joy and the closed door were back.
Her heart squeezing, Rebecca supposed that meant she should sleep on the chintz-covered sofa in the parlor, after all.
six
Two hours later, Rebecca was driving back north in a rental car courtesy of Joy Jayhawk’s Weekend Singles Tours, Jed biting at cuticles in the passenger seat. His mother, with whom he still lived, had called him complaining of both chest pain and foot pain, and so Jed had asked Joy if he could apply his unused tour to a future date. Joy had said of course, then added that “Rebecca will be happy to drive you home.”
So that was that. Joy had managed to get rid of her even sooner than she’d intended. At the car rental agency, Joy had handed her a printout of a Google map and driving directions, a twenty-dollar bill for gas, and not even a forced smile.
“I don’t know what to do here,” Rebecca had said. “I feel like this is it. You gave me a chance and I blew it and now this is it. I’m gone.” Your eyes are just like our dad’s. And your chin, too .
“We’re not family,” she’d said in such a low voice that Rebecca had to lean in, which made Joy step back. “Words, labels, whatever, don’t mean anything in and of themselves.”
But —Rebecca stood there, not knowing what to plead, howto fix this. “I totally agree. But we can at least talk, can’t we? Just talk?”
Joy sighed and glanced away, then back. “Rebecca, I am all talked out. I’m sorry, but I’ve been talking and talking and talking for a while now. I don’t want to talk anymore. I’m sorry if that sounds cold.”
Jed had walked over, his cell phone in hand. “That was my mom again. Her right big toe is tingling really bad. Anyone know what that’s a symptom of?”
During the ride back home, he chatted nonstop about his mother and her ailments and his need to break free, move out, that Ellie was great and all, but that he had a little crush on Maggie, and did Rebecca think Maggie might go out with him, or did a guy like him have no chance with a guy like Clinton around? Rebecca dropped him off at his place with the assurance that the best thing to do in life, under any circumstance, was to ask for what you wanted.
“That is really good advice,” Jed said. “Really good.” Then he gave her hand a squeeze and headed up the path to his home, suitcase bumping his thigh.
Joy had instructed Rebecca to return the car to an agency in Brunswick, right off the highway. Apparently, someone would be happy to drive Rebecca to Joy’s house to pick up her own car.
Someone was. Someone even chattier than Jed had been: “You’re from New York? I just came back from there—family vacation. Have you ever been to the top of the Empire State Building? What about the Statue of Liberty? I climbed up to the chin when I was a kid. Someone behind me
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