extremely polite, but”—he looks embarrassed—“I didn’t want to be rude and not say anything.”
“What did Cara do?”
“It was extremely high drama for twenty-four hours. Lots of screaming and crying. I kept telling her nothing had happened and it wasn’t my fault this woman had a crush on me, but she didn’t believe me. In the end she said she couldn’t trust me anymore and she was leaving, and I had screwed up the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“So you got dumped.”
“I can’t quite think of it that way because I’d been desperate for it to be over for weeks. I just didn’t know how to extricate myself. This was like a lucky gift from God.”
“Has she been back in touch saying she made a terrible mistake yet?”
He gives me a sheepish smile. “Yes. She said she realized I would never do anything to hurt her and she wanted to give me a second chance.”
“And you said?”
“That over the past few days I had had a lot of time to really think about what she had said, and I think she was right, we aren’t right for each other.”
“You know I never liked her,” I say, knowing that I probably shouldn’t be saying this.
“She didn’t like you either.” He grins.
“Well, clearly. She obviously hated my guts. She didn’t seem like a very nice person, and honestly, I couldn’t ever figure out what you saw in her. She treated Annie horribly. Not in the beginning when she was trying to win her over, but as soon as she felt secure with you, Annie just seemed to become this enormous source of resentment and irritation.”
“I’m so sorry,” says Jason. “I kept thinking they would figure it out.”
“I don’t think Cara has it in her to figure things out. Some people battle with jealousy. I think she couldn’t ever deal with you having other women in your life. Me, your daughter. It would have been hell for the rest of your life.”
He nods, pensive. “Yes. I think that’s probably true, and I think I had realized that. I’m sorry I didn’t see it earlier.”
“Me too.”
And then we hear Annie from upstairs. “Mum? Dad? Hello?”
“I’ll go.” I turn to go upstairs, knowing that the time has come for Annie and me to talk, that she is healed enough. “Won’t be long.”
* * *
I push open the door, heart melting at how vulnerable my daughter looks, in bed, bandaged, like a wounded duckling.
“Hi, darling, how are you feeling?”
“Good. Okay. Better. You know what I really want?” She sits up, pushing the covers back. “I’ve got a huge craving for ice cream.”
I lean over and kiss her on the top of her head, then sit down on her bed. “We can get you ice cream. But first I think we do need to have a talk.”
Her face falls.
“Annie, now that you’re better, I need you to know that I love you, and I am so relieved that you are fine, but I am also so angry and disappointed that you got into this mess.” I am careful to keep my voice flat. In the old days, the drinking days, I would have shouted, screamed, ranted and raved. I wouldn’t have waited until Annie got better, would have been a reactive mess.
“You are thirteen. I don’t know what to say about you even being on a scooter, let alone stealing one. The lying, Annie. The dishonesty. How am I supposed to trust you?”
“It wasn’t my idea,” she grumbles, picking at the bedspread, refusing to meet my eyes.
“It was Trudy’s idea?”
“No!” She is quick to defend her cousin. “It just … I don’t even remember how it happened. It was the other girls, not Trudy. They dared us to do it. I knew it was stupid and I didn’t want to, but I didn’t want to be the annoying bratty little cousin. Mum, I really didn’t want to.” Now she looks at me, eyes swimming with tears. “Neither of us did, but we didn’t know how to say no.”
“Okay.” I nod. I understand this, understand what this feels like, when you are thirteen, and desperate to fit in, and terrified it might be discovered that you aren’t as cool or as fun as everyone else. I don’t know that Trudy felt the same way, am quite certain, in fact, that she was an instigator, but I know my daughter. “Okay.”
She looks up at me. “What about Trudy?”
“What about her?”
“Can I still see her?” Her voice is tentative,