Page 45 of Yours

“You’re Marietta B. on Wattpad,” she says matter-of-factly. “You wrote that short story about the treehouse and the dead robin.”

I hear myself gasp because I haven’t shared that profile with anyone, not even my dad. I’ve wanted to keep it private.

“Darcy, please, let’s just go,” my dad says.

“I’m so proud of you,” Silvia says, and I see her eyes glisten.

I don’t know what to say to this.

“Can we meet, just for coffee? Maybe tomorrow? Then I’ll stay out of your life, I promise. I just want to hear about your writing, and your life. I read the poem, and it’s so sad.”

I look at my dad, who’s face is tight with pain, regret. I realize for the first time that Silvia broke his heart, too.

Part of me wants to walk away, but the other part is drawn in and curious, and well, flattered—even as complex as this is—every writer jumps at the chance to talk about her work. “Okay,” I say because I’m afraid that if I say no, I’ll be turning my back on the one chance I have to find out why she left, why she made the choices she did.

Silvia’s shoulders sink in relief. “Thank you,” she says. She names a coffee shop I never go to because it’s more of a diner for truckers than a place you’d want to eat.

“See you tomorrow,” she says, and backs toward her car. I watch her slide into the driver’s seat and shut her door. Her engine starts with a grinding screech, and then she’s pulling away from the curb, trailing white smoke.

My dad sighs heavily. “I’m sorry,” he says.

I’m still watching in the direction of where Silvia’s car disappeared.

“You don’t have to meet her.”

“Where has she been?” I ask. A flurry of new feelings swirl inside me, emotions I haven’t felt: confusion, anger, hurt, wonder.

“I don’t know,” my dad says.

Inside my dad’s Cherokee, soft country music fills the silence. “You never told me what…happened.”

My dad sighs. “You never asked.”

I never asked because the kids I grew up with had already filled in the blanks. And I knew even from a young age how much it would hurt him if I talked about it, because then it would make him feel like he wasn’t enough, and I would never do that to him.

“Will you tell me now?” I ask.

He eyes me. “She’s not worth it,” he says, his lips hardening. “You’re perfect just the way you are. I don’t want nothing spoiling that. Especially not her.”

I try to understand this, but it’s confusing. Hasn’t not talking about it made things harder? I think about the teasing, my leaving for school to get away from it but ending up with someone like Ellis, and Cory. “Ugh,” I gasp because it’s starting to feel like too much.

“I can’t make you stay home tomorrow,” my dad says. “But I can tell you that there’s nothing worth learning from her. She’ll only hurt you more than she already has.”

I read everything you write.How did she know about Marietta B? I suppose if one were resourceful, it wouldn’t be too difficult. That she is determined that way taps a little sweet spot deep inside me.

“You want me to go with you?” he asks, sounding hesitant.

I’m grateful he’s offered, but know he can’t do this for me. “No, Dad, but thanks.”

He pulls into the restaurant and parks the Cherokee. “Tonight is about you, honey. I don’t want her to ruin our celebration, okay?”

“Okay,” I say, trying to do what he’s suggesting, but it’s hard.

Brian must be able to read the look on my face because his eyes narrow. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

I explain Silvia’s visit.

He pulls me into his arms, and I instantly feel better. He makes me feel so safe, and though I can’t explain it, stronger. “You okay?” he asks, stepping back to look at me.

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