she and my dad would have taken me in as their own after Reina bounced. They were good-hearted people who hadn’t been able to have children of their own.
And as for never telling me…yeah, I know the 90s sitcom reaction to such a discovery is usually to get all sorts of pissed. But what did I have to be angry about? Not only had they taken me in, they’d treated me like a true blessing. When it came right down to it, I had the best parents on Earth—at least until my dad remarried.
So no…there’s no resentment or confusion even. But I do find myself curious about Reina Smith.
What happened to her after she got sober? How did she end up in South Dakota of all places? And what had she been doing with herself all these years? Maybe I should try searching for her name with South Dakota behind it…
An out-of-nowhere tingling stops my hands typing just as I’m about to enter a new internet search. It’s the same feelings I had this afternoon when I opened the door to find Rhys standing on my step. A weird mix of both dread and anticipation lighting up all my nerves.
I put the laptop down beside a snoozing Mabel and go over to my window which faces the backyard.
Sure enough, Rhys appears, walking down the gravel driveway that extends all the way from the front to the back of the house. He’s dragging one single suitcase behind him. That’s weird. For a guy who just took over the practice, you’d think he would have brought more than one piece of luggage to his new venture.
I watch him open the door with the keys I gave him earlier, expecting him to go right in. But then he looks over his shoulder....
His eyes rise up to my window.
As if he senses my presence just as deeply as I do his.
Our eyes connect.
Even though there’s insulated glass and at least ten meters of space between us, I swear I can feel his gaze on my skin. And my body swells with heat in response.
I turn away from the window, refusing to let my mind go back down that road.
This situation is already complicated enough.
Did I say I wasn’t angry before? Because suddenly I am.
So angry, I snatch my aunt-mother’s letter from the pillow I laid it on while I was researching Reina Smith on my laptop.
Yeah, I’d been curious a few minutes ago, but the fact is she left. She made her decision before I was even three months old. So what good is doing all this research on her?
It won’t change the past.
Instead of doing yet another search on Reina Smith, I grab the box from the top shelf of my closet. The one where I keep things I should throw away. But haven’t. Like my participation Beauty Queen of America trophy, my father’s old stationary pad, the twin’s report cards, that one glittery purple Dansko shoe, and now….
The letter Reina Smith had sent me.
I have to get the twins through the rest of the school year. I also have to figure out how I’m going to qualify for an apartment in Pittsburgh without a regular paycheck. Plus, Rhys Prince is now living in my back house.
There’s enough going on in my life, I decide, shoving the box back up on the top shelf and turning off the closet light.
I don’t have room for anything or anyone else.
Chapter Seven
“Can I go to Janine’s house to study?” E asks me when she pads into the kitchen on the first Saturday of April.
Her head is down and she’s typing on her phone. But she stops short when she finally looks up and sees me. “Oh, my God! What happened to your hair?”
I run a hand over my new TWA, the teeny weeny afro I was left with after my spontaneous big chop the previous night.
“I finally got around to watching Nappily Ever After yesterday,” I answer.
“That one movie about the old desperate lady who cuts off her hair because she’s mad at some man?” E asks.
I love E, but sometimes teenagers can be complete trash.
“That’s not what it’s about?” I say to E. “It’s more about discovering your self-worth and realizing it’s not all about hair. Also with the governor having just issued that stay-at-home order for all of Missouri, I don’t think I’m going to be able to get into St. Louis for a new relaxer anytime soon. Plus, I’m trying to cut down