“Is that what’s been bothering you lately? You want to know about your dad?”
“Maybe,” I say.
Mom fidgets in her seat a little and then clears her throat.
“Okay,” she says softly. “I’ve told you this before and I’ll tell you again. Your father and I weren’t meant to be together. We didn’t get along, and he left when you were six. That’s really the end of the story.”
I think back to my notes.
“My memory went crazy when I was six. Do you think Dad leaving us traumatized me?”
“I’ve considered that,” Mom admits, looking incredibly uncomfortable.
“So, what, you just fell out of love with each other?” I ask.
My mom doesn’t meet my gaze when she replies, “Yes.”
“And we never heard from him again?”
“No,” she says. The letters at home tell me that she’s lying, but I hide my anger. I press the issue.
“He never tried to talk to me or anything?”
I swear I see a flash of guilt in my mother’s eyes when she answers. “No, honey, I’m sorry, he never did.”
I don’t believe you, I think.
And then our onion rings arrive.
When I get home, I try calling Jamie. She picks up on the third ring.
“You need to stop stalking me,” she says sharply.
“Hi to you, too,” I say.
“Seriously, I got your message earlier. I’ve gotten all of your messages. When I’m ready to talk to you, I’ll call.”
“But, Jamie, don’t you think we should just talk about it?”
“Do you even remember what it is, London?”
“Yes,” I say quietly. My notes are resting on my lap.
“But not really,” Jamie snaps at me. “See, you get to go to sleep and forget everything. I don’t have that luxury.”
“It’s not a luxury,” I protest.
“Whatever, I have to go now.”
“But, J, are we ever going to talk again?”
“I don’t know, London, are we?”
Click.
“What’s wrong?” Luke asks over the phone.
“Nothing,” I lie.