Page 50 of All In Good Time
Becca blinked, staying quiet for a moment, as she wondered if her mom was serious in asking that. To her, the answer was obvious. When her mother waited for her response, Becca gave in. “You’re barely here. When would I even have a chance to talk about these things with you?”
Her scrubbing movements froze, and her mother turned her face away from Becca’s sight. Regret pinched in her, and she nearly backpedaled. She always felt bad for bothering her busy mom with her own issues, afraid it would stress her out. It’s why she never mentioned anything over the phone other than progress with school and a few extracurriculars or if she’d completed her chores. It’s hard when they’re so far apart.
Mom spoke before she could take it back, and changed the subject. “Why was he in your bed anyway? If you weren’t doing anything.”
Becca’s mind rewound to the night before. She hadn’t forgotten about the phone call, and the devastating news, or the words Derek had said to her. But the pain of the night had been hidden by the brighter energy of the morning. Which was now clouded by her mother’s question.
Becca averted her eyes and focused on a small chip in the linoleum on the countertop. “I needed to talk to someone after I heard about Dad, and so I called Derek. He stayed to help me.”
Silence settled the room into an uncomfortable stillness. It lingered so long that Becca couldn’t resist her mother’s eyes anymore. When she met them, her stomach sank at the confusion on her mom’s face.
“What about your father?”
She didn’t know.
Oh god.
She didn’t know he was dead.
Her mother and father had not spoken since the day he walked away. Becca knew her mom had tried, but as far as she knew, she was never successful. Other than that, she never spoke of him.
Maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise that her mom hadn’t heard first, but itwasjarring that, now, Becca had to repeat the words out loud to deliver the news to her own mother.
What a cruel situation. Becca sat back down and closed her eyes, finding the right way to start in her mind. Her mother’s focus remained a spotlight on her.
In that moment, she wished she could go back to the night before, with Derek’s hand on her shoulder and his words calming her bitterness.
Maybe if he was still here, this all would be so much easier.
* * *
Becca got to drive herself to school. It’d been a while, but while her mom was on her short vacations at home, Becca could drive their only car.
She’d be a lot more excited about it if she hadn’t been the one who’d delivered news of her father’s death.
Her mom, unsurprisingly, was worried about Becca. Even after Becca kept telling her that she was okay, her mother kept asking over and over.
She left for school late, because her mother had insisted she stay home instead, and it took too much time to convince her otherwise. It was funny that now her mom wanted to have an active role or even talk about her dad. Where was that eagerness the past ten years?
That was the last thing she wanted. To stay home while her mom babied her and gave her too many opportunities to think about it all. School was a better distraction.
When she pulled into the parking lot and found a spot, most of the place was already filled.
Inside, the school was just another reminder of the love-infused holiday her mother so loved. Pink, red, and white had taken over the hallways overnight, and students walked around with flowers and candy. There was even more giggling than usual in the hallways on Valentine’s Day.
Marty was just as wrapped up in the festivities, and when he found her by her locker, his hands held onto a heart-shaped box of chocolates.
Becca eyed it as she pulled out her books for the first two classes of the day. “Are you giving or receiving this year?”
He shook it, and the chocolates inside made a rattling noise. “A little bit of both.”
“Who gave you that?”
“Samantha Crowley.”
Becca’s eyebrow raised. Marty had been going down his list of potential valentines just the week before, and Samantha had been at the very top since Jenna dropped off. Maybe he was finally getting his groove back. “I thought you were going to give her stuff.”
“I did.” He pointed at the box. “And she gave it right back.”
