Another Piece of My Heart (38 page)

Then I tried
not
thinking about it. I tried to force myself to think of other things, even indulging in the wedding fantasy for a good fifteen minutes, which was much longer than the allotted time, but even that couldn’t take my mind off it.

Talking to my dad and Andi, the speech, the words I have to say would drift back in, and the next thing you know, an hour’s gone by, and all I’ve done is stress.

And now it’s here. I smooth my hair back, check it in the mirror before I take a deep breath, and walk down the stairs.

This is like acting, I tell myself. If I act like a grown-up, it will all be fine.

Fifty-three

Andi and Ethan sit stiffly at the kitchen table, watching Emily, who looks equally uncomfortable.

They have seen her since the incident with Cal and Manuel only once, when Emily came to apologize. Michael came with her, and Emily had the good grace to own up to her behavior, or at least to appear contrite. She said she knew it was wrong and that it would never happen again.

“Damn right it will never happen again,” Andi said, noticing that Emily was stopped from barking something back by Michael’s squeezing her hand so hard that Emily noticeably winced.

Last night Emily phoned. She wanted to talk to them, had some news, would rather tell them in person.

Neither Ethan nor Andi had a clue. Was she going back to Oregon? Did she have a job? Was she pregnant again? Could she have gotten engaged? They went through every possible scenario until Ethan commanded them to stop, saying the process was exhausting, and irrelevant. They would find out this afternoon.

Now she is sitting across from them, looking, oddly, like a businesswoman, or at least, how someone thinks she ought to dress when she is trying to come across as a businesswoman.

Andi is so fascinated by this strange transformation, she cannot take her eyes off Emily. She is wearing what appears to be one of Brooke’s suits, which seems to belong to the early eighties. It is black, with a knee-length skirt, a fitted jacket with big square shoulder pads over a white shirt, buttoned up to the collar.

Andi doesn’t know that Emily tried to get the shoulder pads out this morning but realized she couldn’t do it without cutting the lining, and her mom would freak out if she’d cut the lining. The shoulder pads had to stay.

Her hair is back in a chignon, she is wearing red lip gloss and high heels. She looks as nervous as they do, and is speaking in a slightly stilted fashion, as if she has rehearsed.

Andi’s fascination suddenly gives way to a giant bout of fear.

*   *   *

This is horrible. I have never felt so uncomfortable in my life, and I’m in my own home. Well. It used to be my home. But I know I am about to change everything, and I don’t even know whether it’s the right thing to do.

But what else can I do? Michael wants it, he says it’s the right thing, and I want to want it, too. I want to feel the same way he does even though right now I feel a bit like I’m on a runaway train and don’t know how to get off.

So I clear my throat and clasp my hands on the table in a way that I think makes me look grown-up, and I look them both in the eye, one at a time, as Michael told me to do to get them to trust me.

“I wanted to talk to you both together,” I say, just as we rehearsed. “Actually, Michael and I were going to talk to you both together, but then he had to jump on an early flight this morning, and we didn’t want to wait any longer.

“So Michael’s been working on this big deal for his company, where they’re taking over a jewelry business in the UK. One of his colleagues has been sent over there to run the company. In fact, we were going to take over his apartment, that was the reason why…” I trail off. No reason to go over that again. “Anyway…” I shake my head to dislodge the memory, wishing I’d never brought it up and hoping they’re not thinking about it, too, but I can see from the hard expression in Andi’s eyes that she is. Damn.

“So Patrick’s gone to London,” I continue, “and they called Michael in and told him they’re sending him with Patrick to form part of the UK team.”

“That’s great,” my dad says. Warily.

“Right. We’re so excited. I’ve never been to London, and I’ve always wanted to go, and Central Saint Martins is there, which is, like, the best art school in the world, so I really want to go and get an art degree, and it’s the most incredible opportunity.” As I’m saying it, which, by the way, wasn’t part of the planned speech, I realize how excited I am about all of this, and that this really is going to change my life forever.

“Wait,” Andi says slowly, putting up a hand to stop me, as if she didn’t understand what I just said, and needs a minute to digest it. “You mean, you’re going, too?”

I nod. “Can you believe it?”

And I see Andi exchange a look of relief with my dad, and I want to stand up and run out right now. Before the hard bit. While they’re still happy.

“Emily! That’s great!” Andi enthuses. “Oh, my gosh, what wonderful news. No wonder you wanted to come and talk to us. It’s just great!”

And I can see that she is ready to dance with delight; I can see exactly what she’s thinking:
She’s leaving! We’re safe!

“Congratulations!” My dad takes my hand across the table and squeezes it hard, and when he smiles at me it is warm, and filled with love. “I’m thrilled for you, Em. A fresh start, hey? And with a great guy. I couldn’t be happier.”

And I want to accept their joy. I want to bask in their love and acceptance, which feels entirely genuine, but I can’t because I am about to throw a bomb at them.

“There is one more thing,” I say nervously, and they both look at me, completely unprepared, still smiling.

I take a deep breath. I can do this. This is what Michael wants. This is what I’m going to want, even if I don’t want it right now. It’s the right thing to do, and this, above all else, proves that I am finally a grown-up; I am ready to take on the responsibility; I am ready to do the right thing.

“We’re going to take Cal with us.”

There. I said it. It wasn’t so bad. There is silence. I look from one to the other, but they just stare at me as if they haven’t understood.

“Excuse me?” my dad says. He shakes his head. “What did you just say?”

And this we prepared for although I hadn’t anticipated how much my heart would be pounding.

“I’m sorry. I know you love him, and you’ve been amazing to him while I’ve been away, and I could never thank you enough for stepping in and playing the role of his parents. Now it’s time for Michael and me to take over. I know we’re young, but Michael’s being paid really well, and we have the financial stability to look after him.

“Really. Thank you. For everything you’ve done for Cal.” I am acting now, and doing quite a good job. I sound mature and calm, and I am pleased that this seems to be going surprisingly well.

My dad and Andi are just staring at me. They haven’t screamed. They haven’t exploded. They’re just listening to what I have to say. For the first time in my life, I think that I am being heard by them. I am being treated as an adult, and they are actually responding. Or not responding, which is the point. I think they’re going to be okay. I do. I think they’re weighing it up in their minds, and they realize that everything I’m saying is sensible, and it’s all going to be fine.

“I’m leaving to join Michael in two weeks.” I am confident now, matter-of-fact. “Obviously, Cal can stay with you for the next two weeks, but I’d really appreciate it if I could spend time with him, too, to get him used to the idea.”

I look from one to the other, waiting for a reaction, but there is none. I wait. And wait.

“Well?” I ask eventually. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Andi is the first to speak. She is gritting her teeth, holding the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles have turned white.

“I have something to say.” Her voice is dangerously quiet, and, I suddenly realize, trembling with rage.

“Over my dead body.”

Fifty-four

Andi’s fists are clenched as she speaks, and she looks like she is about to explode. I guess, as stupid as it sounds, there was a part of me that hoped they would accept it. Sure, I knew they’d be upset, but they’ll get over it.

I didn’t expect anger, though. Tears, yes, but Andi looks like she is about to explode, and I have to remember that whatever she says, however they react, I will stay calm. If I am the adult I am telling them I am, responsible enough to take Cal, to raise him in the way they would want, I have to behave like an adult.

Even when the adults around me aren’t.

Andi stands up, looming over me, her voice low and sinister.

“You come back here after three years of showing no interest, and you think you can just take Cal after spending a few hours with him? You think you can offer him stability and the type of security a child needs? Are you out of your mind? He doesn’t even know you, and the few times you were supposed to look after him, you either forgot about him, sending a
stranger
to get him from school, or rang your father to come and help because you had no idea what to do when he was upset. Are you kidding me, Emily? Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“That was a mistake.” God. Why does she have to keep bringing that up? I said I was sorry. Over and over. “I felt terrible, and it will never happen again. And yes, I am new to this, but I will learn, and I will learn from doing it. I will learn from mothering. Because, Andi, however much you would like things to be otherwise, I am his mother.” I astonish myself at how strong I sound. My heart is pounding, but my voice is calm, and purposeful. Seriously. I wouldn’t want to mess with me right now. I am going to win this. No doubt in my mind.

“No. You’re not. As I have said many times before, you merely gave birth to him.” Andi’s voice is shaking with emotion. “There’s a big difference. You are
not
a mother. You don’t
know
what being a mother means. Being a mother, Emily, means you are there through thick and thin. It means never forgetting your child, or letting, heaven forbid, someone you don’t know go and get him from school.

“Being a mother, Emily, means that when your children scream or cry, or keep you up all night, every night, because they are sick, or sad, or scared, you comfort them, and you
stay
. You
stay
. You
stay
.” She repeats these words, over and over, staring at me accusingly like a crazy woman. “Do you understand? You do not run away when you are overwhelmed. You
stay
. And let me tell you something else. I would give my own life, happily, before I let anything happen to Cal. You know why? Because he’s my child. Regardless of who carried him in her stomach until he was born,
he. Is. My. Child.
Do you understand? You can’t understand because you are not a mother, and you’re not equipped to be a mother.”

She is glaring at me, breathing hard, waiting for my response. I take a deep breath.

“No,” I say. “I can’t understand in the same way because this is new to me. I’m learning, and I will continue to learn, every day. I have made mistakes, but I’ve owned up to them, and each time I have done something wrong, I have learned how not to do it next time.

“Despite what you seem to think, Michael and I will be good parents. I am not the same girl you knew, and I am willing to do whatever it takes to make this work.

“And as for not being equipped to be a mother? You’re wrong. Michael’s job is secure and well paying, and we’re going to be able to provide Cal with a good home. We may not have the financial assets you have, but that doesn’t matter. The most important thing is for a child to be loved, and Michael and I will love him. Do love him,” I correct myself quickly.

Andi snorts contemptuously. “The very fact that you just said all a child needs is love is an indication of just how ill equipped you are to be a mother. Not to mention that providing a child with a home is not what I was talking about by being
equipped
. I’m talking about being mature, responsible, selfless. Oh, and by the way, Michael is not your husband, he’s your
boyfriend
. And has been for, what? Five minutes? How stable do you think
that
is?”

I blink at her, momentarily stunned at the sarcasm dripping from her voice, at her obvious contempt for me. You see, I always suspected she felt this way about me; no matter how sweet she would pretend to be, she never actually
liked
me, was just putting on an act to try to please my father.

But I never actually
knew
it for sure. Until this minute. She doesn’t like me. She never has. Finally, she’s stopped putting on the act, and a part of me thinks,
Ha! I knew it!
Like I should feel gratified or something that I was right, but to actually
see
her hatred? To
hear
it? To know how she really feels about me? It’s unbelievably painful. More painful than I ever would have thought, and I look up at her, standing above me, and I just keep blinking like an idiot, willing myself not to cry, not to show her I’m upset.

I am here because I have a right to be here. I am here because I am Cal’s mother. I am here because Michael and I are going to raise Cal, and there is nothing they can do about it. I repeat those words to myself until I know I can speak.

“You know, Andi,” I say quietly, when I am sure the lump in my throat has gone, “you have made it very clear that whatever I do will never be good enough for you. Despite what you may think, I am not the same girl I was when I lived here. I’ve been away for three years, and I have grown up. I have worked for three years, I have supported myself, and I have changed.

“You can think whatever you like about my lack of responsibility, or lack of stability, or fickle nature, or whatever else you might want to throw at me, but it doesn’t change anything.

“None of it is relevant. What’s relevant is that I have a right to have my son live with me, and I’m going to exercise that right. I know you love Cal, and I know how you feel about me, and I am sorry that life isn’t going the way you planned. But I am a grown-up now. I need to take responsibility for my life, and that includes my son. I have a legal right to raise my child, and I am going to bring him with—”