Touched - By Cyn Balog Page 0,93

vu. I opened my mouth and the only word that I could find came out, strangled and weak: “Dad?”

He took a sip of his coffee. “Uh-huh?” Then he studied me like Mom had—like there was something wrong with me. Like everything about them was completely normal. “Is everything okay, kid?”

The eggs tumbled off my fork. I dropped it on the plate, and the clatter was so loud that the kids stopped giggling, the baby stopped gurgling, and everyone stared at me.

I couldn’t bring myself to answer. I looked around. At the kids. My siblings. At my dad again. At my mom, bouncing that baby on her hip. My family. Why couldn’t I remember them?

Just then the baby giggled and my mom smiled. She smiled. It was an expression I’d never seen on her. An expression I never thought I would see. And wow, her face just lit up. She had a smile that could take over the world. It was amazing.

And so I nodded. “Everything’s okay,” I said, scooping the eggs back onto my fork. “Yeah.”

Mom was instructing the man who was my dad about her having to take Izzy and the twins for their flu shots. “So you’ll have to open the shop, okay?”

“Yes, dear,” he answered. “Poopsie. Love of my life.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she teased, swatting him with her dish towel, the way Nan used to do to me. New Mom checked the clock and pointed at me. “You’re going to be late! Get moving!”

I didn’t know how to explain it to New Mom. It was easier to break it to the other version of my mom, the broken one, the one who was used to bad news. “I can’t. I was suspended.”

Her eyes widened. “What? What did you do?”

I shook my head. “Maybe I wasn’t,” I said, knowing how stupid I looked. I realized that version of the past seemed like a dream. That everything before last night seemed like something I made up. Even Taryn seemed so far away, like one of those perfect dreams that made you wish you never had to wake up.

New Mom came over to me and felt my forehead. “That is the last time I let you stay out past eleven on a school night. You look wiped out. And you have the meet this weekend.”

A horn beeped outside. I just stood there, wondering how I could be expected at a meet when I clearly remembered falling and bleeding everywhere. I looked down. There was nothing on my knees, not even the slightest hint of a scab.

My mother—this alien that had invaded my mother’s body—pushed me toward the door. “Your ride?”

I moved to the door, wondering what else to expect. Part of me didn’t want to make a fool of myself, and yet at the same time I desperately wanted to figure this out. Nan. Nan would have the answers. “Wait. I have to talk to Nan.”

“Nan?” She looked as if she’d never heard the name.

“Yeah. My grandmother?” I prompted.

She stared at me, this horrified expression on her face. “Tommy’s right. Are you doing drugs?”

Tommy and the nameless brother—Timmy, I guessed—laughed and chortled, “Nicky’s on drugs! Nicky’s on drugs!”

“No, I—” A feeling of dread washed over me. Something had happened to Nan. “What’s wrong with her?”

My father spoke up. “Well, my mother lives in Texas. She’s an eccentric lady. You’ve never spoken to her before. Why this sudden interest?”

“No … your mother,” I said to my mom.

“Nicky, you’re scaring me.” I just stared at her, willing the information out of her. Finally, she sighed. “You never knew her. She’s been dead since before you were born.”

The sun beat down on me the second I stepped outside; just one of many things that seemed to be beating down on me. I squinted at the battered Ford in the driveway. Then a head poked out from the other side. It was a guy with shaggier hair than mine, wearing sunglasses. He didn’t look at all familiar. “You coming or what? I’ve been waiting out here forever.”

“Sorry,” I said, still trying to make out his face. Then I realized I was dragging along, so I quickly opened the passenger-side door and slid inside, gagging at the stench of cigarette smoke.

I stared at the guy again. He was wearing an old T-shirt and jeans and flip-flops. He took a drag on his cigarette and pulled the car into reverse. “Man, I hate getting up at crack of ass every morning. I can’t do