Page 50 of Pretty Broken Things

She digs into her purse, pulls out a letter, and hands it to me. “I was going to speak to your father about this. I found it when I was getting settled into our room the other day. He’s been in meetings though, and I—”

“Chickened out?” I supply.

She bobs her head. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I did. I’m going to be better. I’ll call Ford’s grandpa. He’s a good man, and he’ll be there for him like I should have been.”

“You still could be,” I prod.

She takes a deep breath. “I’m going to try, but we both know he’s not going to forgive easily. You either, I’m sorry to say. Shane is right, you need to give him space. When he’s ready, he’ll come for you. Until then,” she taps the letter in my hand, “maybe you have a journey of your own to manage.”

“What is this?” I ask, my hand shaking. I recognize the handwriting on the outside of the envelope. Handwriting I haven’t seen in five years.

“Please forgive me for reading it. Your father had told me that his ex-wife left him to raise you all by himself, but according to that letter, he forced her to go away. Looks like he threatened her with something, and she eventually agreed to leave. Not without begging him to let her see you though. Her address and phone number are in that letter,” she says.

“Thank you, Camille.” I put my keys in her hand. “It’s yours now. I don’t want anything from that man. You tell him that he lied to me one too many times and now he’s dead to me. I don’t ever want to hear from him again.”

I turn and walk out of the hospital, hoping that I’m not making a huge mistake chasing after a ghost. Even more I’m actually praying that Ford will see his way around to forgiving me.

* * *

“I thoughtI’d find you down here.”

I don’t jump anymore when I hear her voice, but it’s still a novelty to me. “Hey, Mom,” I greet her without turning around.

Six months ago I jumped on a bus with nothing except my purse to see a woman who I’d thought abandoned me for five years. I texted her from the road, once I knew I was far enough away that I wouldn’t change my mind and turn around. I didn’t expect the warm welcome I received, and I certainly didn’t think I’d be able to forgive her. Turns out, there was nothing to forgive.

My father systematically broke her down over their marriage. Made her feel like a failure of a wife and mother until she believed I was better off without her. She was barely hanging on when she left Ocean Bluff, and I can’t blame her for saving herself. Maybe I should, but I believe he made her feel like she was a threat to me. Over time, and with therapy that changed, hence the letter Camille found, but by then my asshole of a father had her charged with abandonment and had her rights removed. All of this without me ever knowing. He can’t control me or her anymore.

“You know punishing yourself isn’t going to make him reach out. It might be time to allow yourself to move on. It’s not easy, but you are going to have to start choosing yourself,” she advises.

I nod, flopping cold strings of hair into my eyes. I know she’s right. For the first few weeks I wasn’t surprised when Ford didn’t reach out, but after two months I started to worry. Now, all these months later, I doubt I’ll ever speak to him again.

It hurts, like my soul has been ripped from my body, because whether I want to admit it or not, mine is linked to his. At least for me it is, by now he’s probably moved on to the next flavor of the week. Maybe he’s even had another relationship. Just because I was his first, doesn’t mean I’ll be his last. I’d hoped I’d be his only, but I guess those were just the last fanciful thoughts of my youth.

Now, it’s time to grow up. Even more, it’s time to do as my mom says and move on.

I stand up and hug my mom, something that has not grown old over the last few months. She playfully shoves me away laughing. “You’re soaked to the bone and freezing. Let’s go home and order take out.”

I purse my lips. “Can I take a rain check?” I ask pulling my soaked shirt off my body. “I’ve got a friend in town, and I think you’re right. It’s time I stop punishing myself.”

She smiles at me and winks. “That’s my girl.”

I get in my car and crank up the heat. There’s a message I’ve been meaning to return for a couple of days. I select the number and hit send.

“About damn time, bitch. I was starting to feel ignored,” Tracy teases.

“Yeah, I’m getting my shit together. Your message says you’re in Seattle, is that true?”

I can hear the sound of traffic in the background. “Yeah, perfect timing actually, my bus just pulled in. Do you have a couch I can crash on?”

“Even better. My mom has guest rooms.”

“Your mom?” she asks astonished.

“I’ve got so much to fill you in on, and you can stay with me as long as you want,” I tell her.

“Hurry your ass up then. And don’t worry, I won’t mention you-know-who,” she promises.

Meaning he doesn’t want her to talk to me about him. I roll my shoulders back, inject some steel into my spine and mark this moment as when I move on. “Good, because we’re looking to the future from now on. I’m leaving the past in California.”

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