Page 85 of Enemy Daddy Next Door

I’m glad I didn’t.

I’ve been leading the way up to Verdugo Peak. First time I’m the leader on this one. Behind me, I hear Dad panting.

“Damn, Ames, you’re moving so fast.”

I laugh and stop, putting my hands on my hips. “You want to stop for some water?”

Dad nods eagerly. When he reaches me, he drops his backpack to the ground and pulls his tall water bottle out of the side pocket.

“I can carry that if you want.”

“No, I’m fine, I’m…” He huffs as he sits on a rock. “I’m fine.”

I smile and take a seat next to him. I could keep going. But I’ve got to keep pace with Dad. He’s getting older. And I know he’s starting to get self-conscious of it, especially now that he’s a grandfather twice over. No need to make things worse.

“Thanks for coming with me, kiddo. I needed you here,” he says.

“Ah, you would have been fine on your own.”

“Maybe, but…” Dad eyes me nervously and then opens his backpack. He pulls out a small box. “It would have been harder to do this alone.”

I frown. “What’s that?”

He opens it carefully, revealing the contents. Letters. Pressed flowers. A lipstick print on a napkin. My heart stops when I see the handwriting on the back of an envelope. Mom’s. “Time to move on, don’t you think?”

“Daddy, why’d you bring all of Mom’s stuff?”

“I’m going to bury it,” he says and then snaps the lid shut. “Time to close the chapter.”

I wait for him to explain further.

“Is that okay with you, Ames?”

“Why now?” I ask in a meek voice.

Dad sighs and looks out before him. We’ve managed to pick a pretty scenic view for a pitstop on our way to the peak. Burbank unfurls before us. Home.

“I got what I wished for. She came back. And it was all wrong. And here we are, a year later, and I think I’m finally ready to accept that all of that…what she did…” He grabs my hand. “It was so wrong, Amy.”

I’ve never heard him talk about her like this. Without some level of sympathy.

“What she did to you girls, most of all. I already sat through your hurt once. Then she comes back and throws everything topsy turvy again. She’s…not a good person.”

That stings. After all, I’m half of her.

As if reading my mind, Dad continues. “Don’t get me wrong, you girls got the best of her. The looks for one.”

“Dad…”

He laughs. “I’m kidding. Well, not really, but you know that’s not the most important stuff.”

I blink. “You think she’ll never come back?”

“I’m not the type of person to say never. But, how does that saying go? When people show you who they are, you have to believe them.”

My heart wrenches up into my mouth as all the text messages I’ve sent my mom over the past year come into focus. I’ve always thought it had to do with me. If I say the right thing, let her know how much I miss her or love her, if I time it right, then I’ll get that text message I want so badly.

Her actions are not and have never been a reflection of me.

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