Page 69 of Mangled Memory
“I feel exactly like myself, except for the fear and unease all the time. And the improved zip code.”
From my side, Halley begins humming the theme song to “The Jeffersons.”
“I love you. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
She stands and does the waddle that Sherman Hemsley did in the opening credits, and I sink into the cushions with the force of my laughter.
By the time they come to get us, I’m so unwound the rest of the day is icing on the relaxation cake.
Halley and I leave polished, primped, plucked, fed, kneaded, and glowing.
It lasts for less than thirty minutes since my dad is pacing the driveway when I get home.
22
tempt the lightning and the thunder
Ayla
I park the Navigator and walk out toward the street to my dad who stands, hands on hips, face hard with anger.
“Why haven’t you called?”
“Nice to see you, too, Dad. I’m well. You?”
“Ayla, I asked you a question.”
I want to saySo did I,but I resist. “I’ve talked to Mom. You haven’t been home during those conversations.”
“Me.” He stabs a meaty finger into his chest as he leans forward in an intimidating gesture. “You haven’t called me.”
“You’re here now. Let’s talk. Want to come in?”
“No.” The word shoots out like a nail from an air hammer. “I do not want to go in. I want to know why my only daughter hasn’t thought to check on her father after that spectacle last Friday night.”
“You obviously have something to say, Dad. If you don’t want to go where it’s warm, spit it out. It’s cold, and there’s no reason for me to be standing here when it’s comfortable inside.”
He rears back as if I’ve slapped him. “He’s gotten to you, hasn’t he? Turned you against me. I thought you were smarter than that.”
“Now that you’ve refused to tell me what’s wrong and insulted me, I’m going to go.” I hitch a thumb over my shoulder back toward the house. “If you want to have a polite conversation,try not barking at me or, here’s a novel thought, asking me how I am.”
I stalk back toward the garage as he screams, “He’s using you. He’s hurting you, and you don’t even see it. Don’t come crawling back when you see through his lies.”
I don’t acknowledge his rant, grab my purse from the passenger seat, and drop the garage door on the red-faced man screaming at the street.
Dumping all my crap in the mudroom, I head to the kitchen and grab a glass of water.
Christian exits his office and props a hip on the kitchen island, studying me. “You’re glowing and gorgeous, but your shoulders are climbing your neck like they’re trying to warm your ears. What happened?”
“My dad happened.” I chug back the glass and refill it.
A warm hand lands low on my back and strokes up my spine and back down. “Sorry, Princess. I wish this wasn’t happening again.”
“Again?” I turn to face him.
He looks away as if calculating some math equation but returns his gaze quickly. “Again. This stopped for a while and started up again right before your accident.”
I hold up a hand. “I notice you never call it a fall. Mom does. Halley does. But you call it an accident.” He holds my gaze, but I don’t give him much time to answer when I go on, “I didn’t trip and fall, did I?”
