More Than Maybe - Erin Hahn Page 0,34
day. Would that interest you? You’d need a hairnet.
LUKE
YouTube: Rusted Root “Send Me On My Way”
VADA
HOLY SHIT GREENLY YOU LYRICAL GANGSTER.
I pull up my YouTube app, scrolling for something perfect. Rusted Root. Damn. He’s good. But I’m better. I grin, hitting Send.
VADA
YouTube: Grateful Dead “Touch of Grey”
“Sorry we’re late.” I glance up, startled. My dad’s snuck up on me, and he’s not alone. He’s brought my stepmom, Jane, and the twins, Haven and Margo, who are barely a year old.
I’m furious, and I can’t show it because it’s not their fault he’s an asshole who hides behind his sweet family.
My dad walks over, leaning down to hug me, and I pat his back before standing to hug Jane. Margo raises her chubby hands at me, and I pull her into my lap, scooting back into the booth. I love my sisters. Growing up, I hated being an only child. I always wanted to be a part of a big family. Margo bangs the silverware on the table in front of us. I easily pry it from her fingers and smack a kiss on her soft cheek. She reaches for my hair, playing with it and babbling mostly nonsense words. My red hair is a constant source of entertainment for the twins.
Jane orders an iced tea, shifting Haven to another arm, and smiles kindly at me. “How’s life, Vada?” Jane’s lovely. Sweet tempered and patient and pretty and blond. Jane even remembers my birthday, which is amazing. A lot of people dislike their stepparents. I’d trade my dad to keep mine.
“Fine,” I answer over Margo’s babbling. “Just … fine.”
She shifts again as Haven starts to fuss, and the server asks if we’re ready to order. We always get the same thing, so in no time, the server leaves, and Jane is trying again.
“How’s the club?”
“Great,” I say. “Phil’s letting me close on Sunday nights.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“Does it come with a raise?” my dad interjects.
“Yeah. A little one,” I hedge, even though Phil’s probably paying me too much. No need to tell Marcus that. He’ll either, one, think Phil is showing off, or two, use it as an excuse to make me pay for dinner and learn “responsibility.”
“Good.”
Margo grabs for the silverware again, and I deftly manage move all of it except for the spoon, which she scoops up and immediately starts to smack on the table. Which, whatever. Me too, kid.
Our food comes, and I place Margo into a high chair and start to break up her food so Jane can still eat while she feeds Haven. My dad doesn’t move to help. I honestly don’t know how she lives with him.
“How’s the college search going?” Jane asks between bites, focusing on me earnestly. “Still looking at UCLA?”
My eyes flicker to my dad. Of course he didn’t tell her. “Yeah. I got into the music journalism program there, which is an amazing opportunity. I’m looking into funding now.”
“I wish I could’ve gone to college in California,” my dad grumbles around his burger. “Must be nice.”
“Well, I mean, it’s the best in the country for what I want to do.”
“You want to write for Rolling Stone, right?” Jane offers with a smile.
“Or something similar. Yeah.”
“That’s amazing, Vada. So driven,” she says. “Particularly for your age.”
“Thanks—”
“Find any scholarships?”
My eyes cut to my dad. “I’m applying for several, yeah. And filling out my FAFSA.” I swallow hard, my food forgotten in front of me. “I’ll need you to fill one out, too, Dad.”
His eyes narrow, and he stops chewing. “You do?”
“Well, yeah. You and Mom both have to. It’s how they base my financial aid.”
“Listen, Vada, I have two kids and—”
“Three,” I remind him. “You have three kids.”
He puts down his napkin. “Right. But it’s not like I have extra money lying around. I’m sorry, but babies are—”
“Expensive. I know. But so is college, Dad.”
Jane gets up, adjusting a squirming Margo and the diaper bag. “I’m gonna go change her. Marcus, I’m leaving Haven.”
He waves her off. “Vada. I’m sorry, but I thought you and your mom had this all worked out. I’ve been very clear. I’m done paying.”
“What about the child support? Can’t you—” I take a deep breath, feeling desperate. “Can’t you keep sending that while I’m at school? Like, for food and stuff?”
He’s shaking his head. “That money’s spoken for. As soon as you turned eighteen and I didn’t have to pay it anymore, I joined a country club. Dues are expensive.”
“A country club,” I repeat dully.
“For work. It’s good networking. Maybe