Текст книги "The Girl of Sand & Fog"
Автор книги: Susan Ward
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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 25 страниц)
Shit.
We’re finally over eighteen.
Now is when she decides we should do what we’re told to?
* * *
“Don’t post it, Kaley. Enough already. She’s not going to back down. Let it go.”
I ignore Zoe and hit post anyway.
“You want me to stop the cyberwar, give me Natasha’s phone number or tell me where she lives so I can have it out with her face-to-face. This shit needs to stop. Now, Zoe. I don’t want her bullying you anymore and the photo she’s spreading of Jake with another girl is bullshit. Fake. Photoshopped or something. He wouldn’t do that to you.”
Zoe gives me an intense look. “I know that. I got over it after I called Jake when she texted me the first one on Friday. Yep, I got butt-hurt when I saw it. Yep, I went off on my boyfriend. But it ended three days ago for me. I don’t know why you keep hitting her back online every time she hits me.”
“Because she’s a bitch and she deserves it and I’m not going to put up with her treating you this way.”
Zoe’s eyes fly wide. “But I don’t care. And I just want the fighting to stop. It’s gotten out of hand. It’s going to be ten times worse now when I go back to school. Can’t you see that, Kaley?”
I slap closed my laptop and flop back on the bed. “Fine. I’ll stop.”
She nods in relief. “Good. It needs to stop. It’s too much for me. I don’t want to fight with anyone.”
I pout. “I’m sorry. But you’re my best friend. I love you. And I can’t stand when those girls hurt you.”
She smiles. “Boy, when you say you’re going to have someone’s back you mean it.”
She makes a silly face and I laugh.
Then I groan.
“Maybe I did take it too far. Bobby is going to be so pissed if he sees any of it. Definitely not among my most stellar moments.”
“Some of it was kind of funny,” Zoe offers carefully.
I shake my head. “No. You’re right. I took it too far.”
Ding.
Oh fuck, that was fast. Fucking Natasha. Zoe’s right. She’s never backing down.
Zoe grabs her phone off the bed and holds it away from me. “Don’t look at it. It’s my text. I don’t want to see it. We’ve decided it stops.”
She stares at me, unblinking, and I nod. “Fine. It stops. Can we go out and grab some breakfast now? I’m starving.”
“Let me take a fast shower then we’re out of here.”
I watch her disappear into her bathroom. I lie back and shoot off a text to Bobby.
Me: What time are you going to be back in the ’Sades?
Bobby: On the way home now, babe. We should be there in maybe two hours if we don’t hit more traffic.
Me: Can’t wait.
Bobby: Me either. Be ready to hit the road for Santa Cruz the second I get there.
Me: The second, huh? Wouldn’t you like a 30 minute layover before you start driving again?
Bobby: 30 minutes? Layover’s definitely longer than that.
Me: Says who?
Bobby: Says you. Love you.
Ding.
I check to make sure Zoe won’t catch me—bathroom door closed and water running—then I go to her laptop on the desk and click on her Facebook page. I check the messenger. Yep, new incoming from Natasha.
I open the chat box and my body grows cold even though my heart is pumping so quickly I almost can’t breathe.
Two pictures in a collage side by side.
Where the fuck did Natasha get them?
One of Alan and Khloe.
One of Alan and me.
Headline: Which one does Daddy love?
Khloe captioned: Billion dollar baby.
I’m captioned: Zero dollar baby.
Closing caption: We all know what you are, Kaley.
That’s it. I’m not putting up with this shit one second longer. How the fuck did Natasha get that picture of Khloe? Nope, I don’t care what Zoe says. I’m having it out with her today.
I grab Zoe’s tote. Please, Zoe, I hope you put your phone back in here. I rummage through her stuff, then anxiously toss everything out onto the bed.
An envelope floats to the floor, I pick it up and then my eyes go wide.
She got the kinship lab results and didn’t give them to me. How could Zoe do that? Ripping it open, I sink onto the bed. I pull it from the envelope and then stare at it, stunned.
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.
This can’t be right.
It’s not possible.
Krystal’s voice rises in my memory. I didn’t just open them. I used them for their intended purpose. One of those is Eric’s. One of those is Ethan’s. One of those is mine.
We’re not half siblings.
None of us.
We all have the same mother and father.
What have my parents done?
How is this possible?
Alan looked me in the eyes.
He said it wasn’t true.
My heart shatters.
For a moment, I believed him.
CHAPTER 23
I race through the Malibu house, setting up my cameras on tripods to make sure I catch every inch of footage of what I plan to have go down here, and repeatedly run through my mental checklist.
Load tweets into my Hootsuite so they auto-release.
Schedule Facebook post every thirty minutes.
Make sure the streaming live video feed works.
Record YouTube message for Kaley’s World.
Don’t think of anything else.
You’ll fall apart if you do—but, fuck, how could my parents do this?
No, don’t think about that.
This has to be undeniable.
If it isn’t, Alan will finesse his way out of the truth.
How could he do this to my brothers and sisters? Deny them like he’s always denied me?
Me I could forgive—never hurting them.
No, Kaley, focus on the tasks in your head.
I want the aluminum bat Aarsi had.
Position spray-paint cans from Zoe’s house so they’re in every room.
How long until Alan’s security busts in to stop this?
Denial is a terminal addiction—make it a tab on my website.
It’s Tuesday.
Is Alan back in California?
I wonder if he’ll see this.
His security sure as fuck will since they’re spying on me.
Oh, he’ll eventually see this.
I go back to my laptop, trying to ignore Zoe’s fretting as she wanders in circles, and rapidly click away the necessary posts to make what I want to have happen here.
Zoe grabs my arm. “Kaley, just talk to me. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the lab results when they came. I didn’t know what to do. I was waiting until Bobby was back.”
I ignore her and whirl to face the great room, trying to figure out the best location to shoot the short video to launch this.
I turn the camera toward the far wall near the table with the weird family photo array atop it. Yep, know why those pictures are there now.
“You’re scaring me,” Zoe wails. “What are you doing? What is this?”
I look at her. “Stand here in the foyer. I don’t want you in the video.”
“What video? Nope, I’m not moving until you explain what this is.”
Oh fuck, Zoe, don’t get in my way now.
I shake my head, trying to figure out how to explain this in Zoe terms. “Have you ever seen that movie 8 Mile?”
She nods, sniffling and nervously gnawing her lower lip. “Eminem, right?”
I close my hands on her arms—crap, she’s shaking like an earthquake—and fix my eyes on her. “Remember the last scene. Focus, Zoe. Listen. I’m explaining. When Eminem battles and gets up there and tells everyone everything about him and then he tosses the microphone and says, ‘I’m outy. Tell these people something they don’t know about me’?”
The panic on her face rapidly increases but she nods.
I brush the hair back from her face, hoping to calm her. “That’s all I’m doing. I’m outing myself. I’m tired of the lies and the secrets. The tabloids. Natashas of this world. Alan. My mom. I’m just putting it all out there and maybe someone will hear me and it will get better and go away. I’m going live with the truth about everything. I’m outing myself. And if you’re really my friend, Zoe, you won’t stop me.”
She anxiously studies my face. “I don’t think you should do this. We can still get out of here. You’ve only wrecked one wall. It’s paint. It can be fixed, right? Isn’t that enough? It’s there. The truth. Alan will see it. Let’s stop this now. Let’s go.”
I go back to the camera and check the positioning through the viewfinder. “I can’t leave, Zoe. Not until I’m done.”
I hit record and hurry into the shot, kneeling down facing the camera, unable to hear the words in my head as I speak them.
Then I see the shot widen by the auto-programming, so the first tag on the wall I did with the spray-paints from Zoe’s garage will show in the film.
I stare into the camera. “This is the last episode of Kaley’s World. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be silenced after this. Shut down after today’s live feed. But I’d like to send one last message to my dad, Alan Manzone. I’d like to call the remainder of this feed ‘Denial is a Terminal Addiction.’ So here is our live family therapy.”
I hurry to the computer, stop the recording, and quickly edit the video. I add the frame with the link for the live feed. I load it on YouTube, Facebook and my Kaley’s World website. I see the Hootsuite notification that the auto-tweets have started. I check my phone to make sure the live feed is up and streaming. Yep, Alan’s house.
I grab the bat and the spray-paint. Showtime. Try denying this, Daddy. And then there is nothing—not in my head, not in my heart, and not in the room—except a blinding, raging need to swing the bat and cover the walls in spray-paint with the thoughts I don’t even recognize as my own as I destroy everything in my father’s house.
* * *
My body is limp, drained of strength and tears, but the bat keeps going. It’s like it’s running on its own and I can’t stop it. Not even now when there is nothing left to destroy in Alan’s bedroom.
How long have we been here?
Why hasn’t anyone come to stop it?
I check the security monitor—there are people out front starting to gather on the street.
Someone knows I’m doing this.
The tweets are working if there are sightseers here.
I look at the clock.
An hour.
Is that all this has been? It seems longer.
Zoe is sitting just out of view of the cameras against the wall by the open bedroom door, sobbing hysterically. But she didn’t bail. She stayed with me. I shut down the rising emotions and crash the aluminum into a wall mirror.
“Kaley, put down the bat.”
I whirl.
Bobby.
He starts reaching over to shut off the camera.
I rush across the room. “No, don’t turn it off.”
He freezes, those green eyes holding me in an anxious stare. “OK, I won’t shut it off. I’ll just pause it. OK, baby? Watch. I’m only pausing it.”
He halts the feed and then steps around the equipment, his eyes wide and dismayed as he stares at the walls, the room, and then me.
“How did you get into the house?” I wail. “I didn’t want you here. I didn’t want you involved in this, Bobby.”
He pulls me up against him. “Shush, Kaley. I got in the same way you did. The panel. Your mom’s birthday. We came here the last time together. Remember?”
I stare up at him. “You need to go. Quickly.”
“No point. There are people on the street. Press. I’m in this whether you want me to be or not. What’s happening here? Why did you do this, Kaley?”
I rummage in my pocket and shove the test results at him. He reads them, then starts raking a hand over and over again through his hair.
“Oh fuck,” he groans as shock registers on his face. “Why didn’t you talk to me first instead of doing this?”
I snatch the paper back from him. “Because you would have stopped me, Bobby. And I couldn’t back down from this.”
His palms close on my cheeks, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Baby, you should have come to me first. You’ve hurt you. You’ve hurt me. You’ve hurt us. You’ve hurt Zoe. You’ve hurt your family. There’s a crowd and the media outside. There’s going to be cops soon. You’ve committed a crime. And you’ve put it on the Internet for everyone to see. They will arrest you. The cops won’t back down from this either, baby. Please, stop. Put down the bat. You have to be calm when the police get here. You’ve pushed it too far. Now you have to calm and we wait.”
Police?
I shake my head and step quickly back from him. “I’m not going anywhere. Not with anyone. Not until my dad gets here.”
Bobby studies me, his face ragged with alarm. “OK, baby,” he says soothingly. “Then we’ll stay until your dad gets here. But it’s time for you to pull it together. Don’t do anything else.”
I set down the bat, sink to the floor on my knees, and wait for Alan, turning the kinship analysis constantly in my trembling hands.
* * *
I hear a sound. I look up. Alan.
“Shut everything off. Cut the feed. Turn off the cameras. And get out of here. Both of you.”
I shut down my reaction to my dad being here, jump to my feet and rush across the room, dropping to where Bobby has done nothing but sit with his head in his hands waiting with me for this.
“Bobby, no. Don’t leave. Don’t leave me here alone with him.”
He pulls me against him, kisses my forehead and then holds my face in his hands. The look in his eyes rends my heart.
“It will be all right, Kaley. This is what you wanted. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right outside the door. But you need to do this with him alone.”
He springs to his feet and leaves with Zoe following close behind him.
Alan starts reading the walls.
My pulse is so fast I can’t think.
The silence between us is torturous.
The wait for the next part of this agony.
“You’ve got my attention, Kaley,” Alan says, his voice stripped of emotion. “Talk to me. Why would you do something like this?”
He’s staring at the walls.
How can he still not know what this is?
“You can’t even look at me,” I hiss. “Maybe if you could look at me, really see me, you’d already know and I wouldn’t have to tell you. Goddamn it, look at me.”
He slowly turns to face me, black eyes locking on black.
“I’m looking at you. This is not the way you deal with things, Kaley. You didn’t need to do this to talk to me. I will always listen. I’m always there for you. You didn’t need to do any of this. Say whatever it is that you got me here to tell me.”
Oh God, what’s that I see on his face?
Confusion?
Fear?
Inability to admit truth when it’s shoved in his face?
“How would you know if I needed to deal with it this way or not?” I scream. “You don’t know what it is like to be me. I’ve tried to talk to you. You can’t hear me. Not ever. But I’m not letting you wall me out any longer. I can’t. It was almost survivable when I thought it was only me. But to find out—”
I break off, shaking and unable to look at him.
“Survivable? What was almost survivable?” he probes gently.
I jump to my feet. “You don’t get to pick the kids you want. Kids are not disposable items. Why Khloe but deny me? You make me hate her and I don’t want to because I love her. But, fuck, you are my father. What kind of man are you? What kind of man can do this?”
I throw the results into his face and watch through tears as he picks them up and studies them.
The stillness in the room is shocking.
Then it’s as if Alan’s legs give way. He stares at the paper and collapses to the floor “What is this?”
I fight back my tears.
How could he ask that?
It’s there in his hands.
“You wouldn’t do the test for me so I bought a kinship DNA test. It’s designed to test siblings. I figured I’d match me to Khloe and have the truth since she’s the only kid you haven’t denied.”
He looks at me, stunned.
His expression.
My stomach starts to convulse.
Oh God, I didn’t expect this.
I thought he was lying—but no, he doesn’t know.
“Who is sample one?” he asks in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Khloe. Sample two is me. Sample three is Krystal. And sample four and five are Ethan and Eric. 99.97 percent confirmed we are not half siblings. We’re all full siblings. We all know who our mother is, but you being all our dads is a bit much to take in a single day, don’t you think, Daddy? Now tell me I’ve overreacted here today.”
His eyes never lift from the report. Why doesn’t he say something?
“Just explain to me why,” I beg. “It’s driving me crazy. Why did you lie to all of us? Or was it Mom? Did she lie to you? Is that it? I can’t take not knowing which one of you to hate another minute more.”
“I didn’t know,” he says raggedly, and somewhere deep inside me I know, I can hear it in his voice, the same way I saw it a moment ago on his face.
My thoughts twirl.
My emotions unleash.
Reality starts to nip at me.
I’m drowning in everything inside me.
It was Mom.
But still—
“How could you not know?” I harshly accuse. “Explain it to me.”
The energy leaves my limbs in a single gush and I sit on the floor, back against the wall, facing him.
Minutes tick by, wordless between us. I’m not sure Alan even remembers I’m still here. He’s just staring at the kinship test, his face blank. Then I hear footsteps from the hallway and Alan snaps to, alarmed, and shoves the paper into his pocket.
He crosses the room to me, crouching down until we’re at eye level. “Kaley, we’ll talk as long as you want to, I’ll answer anything that you ask me, sweetheart, but the cops are coming in. Don’t say anything. My attorney is with them. We need to finish with the police and then we will work on you and me. I promise. Do you understand?”
The room is quickly filled with police officers. They’re all around me, talking at once, and Alan is just out of view, pacing frantically, but he doesn’t stop them. I’m led from the room.
I’m escorted to the living room.
A kind, older officer is saying words to me. I can’t catch them—he’s talking too fast—and I can’t look at him, but I nod. More officers across room are talking back and forth. Oh fuck, Bobby is right. They’re going to arrest me.
Alan is waiting in the hallway.
It’s his house.
I’m his daughter.
Why the fuck isn’t he stopping this?
“Miss Stanton, try to focus on what I’m telling you,” the officer says more commandingly and I look at him. He’s trying to get me to read some sort of document on a clipboard. “We are releasing you to your father. This is a six-month probation. You do what he tells you to do. If you don’t, he’s agreed to call the district attorney. You’ll be arrested and charged.”
Releasing me to my father?
I start to quickly read. They’re not going to arrest me. The officer is holding out a pen to me. Will this all end with me only signing something? It hits me; a painful realization. Everything done reduced to a scrap of paper.
Is that all I’m going to have at the end of this?
I’m not sure what I expected, but not this.
The officer points. “Sign here that I’ve explained this to you and that you understand and agree to comply.”
I shake my head. I don’t want to sign it. Nothing has changed yet. Strange, I still haven’t heard Alan admit he’s my father. The officer said it but, shit, Alan hasn’t spoken the words. Not once.
“Please, Miss Stanton, it doesn’t get any better than this,” the officer whispers frantically. “Someone with a lot of pull managed this for you. You don’t want me to have to arrest you. I don’t want to take you to jail. Don’t blow it now, kid.”
The officer’s voice snaps me from my stupor. I take the pen, sign, and then everything starts going in fast motion. The cops leaving the house. Len Rowan dragging Bobby and Zoe away.
The front door closes.
Silence.
We’re alone.
Father and daughter.
Alan still hasn’t said it.
And in this moment, I shatter yet again.
CHAPTER 24
It’s like I’m buried in thick fog. I can’t see anything. Feel anything. Hear anything…but then again there hasn’t been any talking in the car since we left Malibu. Not by Alan and not by me.
Alan pulls into the driveway and parks.
I stare through the windshield. The house looks like it always does. Stupid, Kaley, to think it might look different.
He takes the keys from the ignition and leans into me. “Go inside. Go to your room. Stay there.”
“What are you going to do?”
“It’s going to be OK,” Alan says slowly, inflectionless. “The rest of this needs to be sorted out privately between your mother and me. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you. I love you. But you need to stay out of this. OK, sweetheart?”
Oh fuck.
Mom.
Somehow I’ve managed not to think of Chrissie before this. I jump from the car and run into the house. It’s quiet in a way it never is. You could hear a pin drop. A heavy, still kind of silence that’s unnerving.
My heart turns over. Oh crap. Everything is different. I can feel it trapped in the walls with me. I hurry down the hall, pausing at the family room. Linda Rowan is sitting on a couch with a twin tucked into each of her sides and Krystal hovering at her feet.
All eyes fix on me.
Worried. Anxious. Afraid.
Overwhelmed eyes staring at me from little faces.
I lower my gaze, continue to my room, and lock the door. I lean back against the wood and slide down to the floor, wanting something to form inside me to help me through this and finding nothing willing to answer.
* * *
The minutes tick by slowly as I lie on my bed staring at my door. The slowest moving night ever. I heard Linda’s car leave a long time ago. I heard the back patio doors open and close. Someone is in the house with me.
Still nothing from my parents.
No one has come to talk to me.
They’ve just left me here, forgotten.
This suspended state in between where we were as a family and where I brought us is excruciating.
I need to text Bobby.
Make sure he’s all right.
You’ve hurt us—I brush at my tears. I don’t want to know what that means, not yet.
My door opens and Chrissie appears, her fragile face swollen with tears. “Are you all right?”
I drop my gaze.
I can’t look at her.
She’s completely devastated.
“Please, Kaley, talk to me!”
I can feel her waiting, pleading with her eyes, even though I won’t look at her.
Then the door closes.
I’m alone again.
More minutes tick by.
Something crashes outside against the stone of the patio. I startle.
“Goddamn you, Chrissie. Is that really your first concern here? What the fuck happened to your kids coming first always? Or does that not count today?” Alan yells.
I flinch and debate whether to close my window. But I can’t move. My legs won’t carry me.
“I’ve talked to the kids,” Chrissie says frantically. “I’ve explained. Or at least tried to. I’m not sure how much they understand. Kaley won’t talk to me. What did you say to her? How is she?”
“Fuck, is that all you care about?” Alan returns in a way so acidic it burns me. “That I might have said something that made you look bad to your daughter?”
He’s so angry. I have never heard Alan angry. He’s never spoken to Mom that way.
“That’s not what I meant,” Chrissie counters quickly. “She won’t talk to me. I’m worried. She’s our daughter. You must be worried, too.”
“Oh, sorry, our daughter. Pardon me for the momentary mental breakdown I’m having in the middle of this fucking insane day you’ve created.”
I cover my ears, like a child, but I can still hear them.
“I never intended any of this to happen,” Chrissie says.
“How the fuck do you have five kids that are mine and not intend it, Chrissie?” Alan snaps and I jump again.
“I’ve tried to tell you so many times. I don’t know why I couldn’t. That’s not an excuse. I know there is no excuse. I’m not going to try to make one, and I think it’s better if we wait until you’re less angry for me to try to explain.”
Oh no, Mom’s rambling.
She’s so afraid.
How could I have done this to my mother?
“There is only one explanation I’d like to hear,” Alan says, his tone rough and cutting. “Then I think we’re through. I know that birth control is beyond basic management for you, Chrissie but, fuck, we both know you know how to get an abortion, so why the fuck didn’t you?”
The color drains from my face.
That was the last reaction I’m prepared to cope with from Alan finding out we’re his kids.
He doesn’t want any of us now.
Not even Khloe.
Oh God, he’s going to leave Mom.
And I’m responsible for this.
“That was mean, Alan,” Chrissie says calmly, but I hear her fighting back tears and worry. “I know you didn’t mean that. It hurts anyway. And I’m sorry that I made you angry enough to say something that isn’t even close to who you are.”
“How could you do this, Chrissie? You stole my family from me.”
“I didn’t steal them, Alan. I kept them for you. I loved them. I waited. There’s a difference.”
She waited?
What does that mean?
Chrissie-speak.
The front door slams loudly.
Alan didn’t understand it either.
He’s left her.
I’m sorry, Mom.
I’m sorry, Mom.
I curl in a ball, hugging myself, choking on fresh tears.
* * *
My bedroom door opens a few minutes later. My mom doesn’t look at me. She moves through my room like a tornado, grabbing my car keys, my phone, every piece of technology I own.
Cutting me off from the world.
I deserve it.
But I wish I’d texted Bobby first.
Chrissie says nothing.
I’m too ashamed to speak to her.
She closes the door between us again.
* * *
Three days pass like only screenshots, disconnected frames not cut into a continuous movie yet. Yep, that’s what my life is. Zoom in. Too clear some moments. Camera fade back. Nothing.
Lourdes brings me my meals. I haven’t left my room for days. Only Mom checks in on me. I still can’t talk to her. Face her. There is so much in my head I need to say, and she’s so worried and sad. I don’t want to dump on her the burden of me, she’s carrying so much right now, and the knot in my stomach warns that what I started in Malibu is far from over.
I don’t know how Mom keeps going.
I want to lie in a ball and never move again.
I don’t know where Alan is.
I wish I was brave enough to face my siblings. I’m so worried about them. I love them. I never wanted to hurt them.
I don’t know where this goes next.
Another limbo state, only this one is because of me.
* * *
Night. I hear voices from my parents’ bedroom. I shoot up in bed. After four days Alan’s back. They’re talking, not yelling. That has to be a good sign.
I wait and listen.
Maybe this horrible nightmare is finally over.
I turn when I hear my door open. Chrissie sinks down on the bed close to me. “Kaley, you need to pack. You’re leaving in the morning.”
Dread shoots through my veins.
What does leaving mean?
I find my voice for the first time in days.
“No, Mom, I don’t want to leave you.”
She surrounds me with her arms. I hear her sniff. She was crying before she came in here. Her hands move gently on my back. “Everything is going to be OK, Kaley. I love you. Your dad loves you. But right now you need to do what I say. Pack. Alan is leaving in the morning with you, Krystal and the twins.”
“Leaving? What does that mean?”
“Your dad has to leave tomorrow. He’s on tour for four months. He can’t cancel so he’s taking you with him.”
I pull back, anxiously searching her face. “You’re going with us, too, right?”
“No, baby girl. I’m staying here with Khloe. It’s the best thing all around for all of us.”
Best thing all around?
How could that be good for any of us?
“I’m so afraid, Mom. Don’t make me leave you.”
She smiles, a calm, almost peaceful thing, almost too weird to see. “You’re going, Kaley.”
She starts to rise and I stop her with my hands.
“I’m not leaving this house unless you explain to me what’s happening. Alan didn’t know we were his. I was there. I saw his face. How could you do this, Mom? And he doesn’t want us. He’s made that really clear. How could you make us leave with him? And how can you say everything is going to be OK? I don’t believe you. Don’t lie to me again. Not now.”
Her hands close on my face so quickly I don’t see them move, only feel the pain of too tightly held cheeks in shaking fingers.
“I have loved your father since I was eighteen. With all my heart, Kaley.” She takes several rapid breaths before her brilliant blue doe eyes lock on me. “Alan is the only man I’ve ever loved. But I love you more. I love you kids more. So how could I do this? I’m your mother and I love you more. How could I tell you to pack and go? I’m your mother. How can I tell you everything is going to be OK? I’m your mother. I love Alan with all my heart but, baby girl, I’m your mother and I love you more. Pack. You’re leaving in the morning.”
Then she walks from my bedroom, and there is nothing but the four walls and me again.
* * *
I start shoving things into a bag even though I tell myself I’m not going on tour alone with Alan. I won’t survive that. I can just run away. Go to Bobby. He’s always wanted to get out of the ’Sades. Maybe he doesn’t hate me. Maybe he’s as worried about me as I am about him. Maybe he’ll leave with me if I can just figure out a way to see him.
I’m sitting in the center of my room on the floor beside my duffel when my door opens.
My heart accelerates and the shaking returns.
Alan settles on the small sofa, facing me. “Are you doing all right, Kaley?”
The lump in my throat makes speech impossible.
I nod.
“Has Chrissie explained what’s happening?”
I nod, though she didn’t really explain anything.
“We’re leaving early in the morning,” he says quietly. “We’re spending five days at my home outside London. I think we need time to regroup. Then we are leaving the UK for four months on the road. Your sisters and brothers depend on you. More than you realize. Try to remember that, sweetheart. It matters to them how well you are.”
It matters to them…
Message received, Alan.
He still hasn’t admitted he’s my father. Or Krystal’s. Or Eric’s. Or Ethan’s. He hasn’t spoken a word about any of that. Not to me. I wonder if he has to them. I only heard him call us his children when he yelled at Chrissie in the backyard.
I lift my face.
I meet his gaze directly.
“I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”
His cheek twitches, but his expression doesn’t change.
“You are my responsibility legally and morally. I can’t leave without you and I can’t stay. I expect you to do as I ask for the next four months. And when you get back to LA, you have my word, I won’t interfere in your life. Not in any way. You can do what you want after we get back, Kaley. But tomorrow you are leaving California with me.”
“I don’t want to go. Let me stay here with Mom. You’re ruining my life.”
Impassive.
“No, I am not ruining your life, sweetheart. I’m making sure you still have one when you get back to LA.”
* * *
I hear a sound. A tap on my glass sliding door. I roll over in bed and check the clock. 3:30 a.m. Another tap. Oh God, please…
I rush from my bed and pull back the curtain. Bobby is standing on the patio. My shaking hands fumble with the latch and finally get it open.
I hurry toward him and some marginal parameter of my brain notes he steps back, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Everything inside me starts to twirl, though I’m not sure why, only a feeling that something very wrong is about to commence again.
