My head whips around to face her. "What? He verbally abused you for your whole life. He pretty much pretends Sara doesn't exist. Call me crazy, but I don't consider that any kind of grandpa I want. You shouldn't either. You should just walk away from him."
But I know she can't, just the way I could never walk away from her. Not like they're the same, because they're not.
She holds up her hand. "Please. I can't fight about him right now. I have too much to figure out. They've given me a week to find him a new place to live, which will take money and time, both of which I don't have a lot of. And I can't..." She shakes her head. When she speaks again, her voice is softer. "He's my dad, but I can't do it again. I can't live with him. I can't bring him here. Not after being free of him for all these years."
It's guilt's turn to take over as my primary emotion. "What do you need? We can take the money out of my savings."
Shaking her head, she stands up. "Absolutely not. He doesn't get your money. It'll just have to be taken out of money I had saved for us. I just...I feel like I live my own life. I never had that growing up and it scares me to consider living with him again, even if it is only short term. It would help if he could live on his own, or would sell the house." Mom stops talking and then waves her hand. "Never mind." She wipes the remaining wetness from her eyes. "You shouldn't have to hear this or deal with it. I'll take care of it. I'm sure we can find him a place to live."
Hopefully. I'm not so sure. What if they talk to his current home? Who's going to want to deal with a violent, mean old man? But for her, I smile, even though I want to tell her she shouldn't have to do anything. That he didn't take care of her, so he should have to take care of himself.
"How did I get so lucky?" Mom walks over to me and cups my cheek with her hand. "How did I get the best son in the world? I'm so lucky to have you, Carter. I want you to know I know that." Her eyes start to pool again.
"Mom, don't. I mean, I'm good, but I'm not that good," I try to play it off.
"Yes you are. And I want you to know." She pulls her hand back and stands up straight, taking a few breaths like she's trying to prepare herself for something. "I want you to know, I'm okay. I'll be okay. After...after the last time, getting so sick? Hurting and scaring you. That's not okay. None of it. You and Sara are the most important things to me in the whole world and I will never do anything to hurt you again."
The tears are rolling down her face now, her words struggling to come out. My eyes start to feel wet too.
"I'm done, Carter. It's not my crutch anymore. This time, I swear it won't happen again."
Mom pulls me into a hug and I fight crying as hard as she is. Hate that even though she's so sad, I'm happy. How can I be anything but happy when this time, for real, I know things will be okay. That she's done. That I won't ever have to worry about alcohol trying to take her over again.
***
Mom and I both play it off like nothing is wrong when Sara comes in, asking for something to eat. Mom heads to the kitchen to make her a snack.
"I have to go pick Kira up and take her home," I tell her. "Will you be okay?"
Mom smiles and it looks so real. Maybe she's just as good at hiding as I've always been. "Of course. Sara and I will have some popcorn and hang out. Tell Kira hi for us, okay?"
"Okay." I start to walk out, but then turn walk over and give Mom a hug first, hoping it shows her I'm sorry and that I believe in her. "Catch ya later, Twig." I tell Sara and then make my way out.
Kira's closing up the store when I get there. She's wearing jeans again. She's been wearing them more often, but she's topped it off with a tie-dyed sweatshirt that looks like something I've seen in movies that take place in the 60's.
While she finishes counting down the drawer, I make sure all the lights are off in the display cases. "Ready?" I ask as I walk up to her.
"Nope." Then, leaning forward, she gives me a quick kiss. "Now I am, Coach."
I thread my fingers through hers, wanting to feel her close to me. We have to let go for her to lock the door, but then we're attached again until I'm driving and she's sitting in the passenger side.
"I'm thinking about adding some red in my hair. What do you think?" Kira rolls her window down a bit. I've noticed that about her. That even if it's not hot, she seems to like the fresh air.
"I think it will look cool. I like your hair natural, too, though."
"Yeah?" I feel her eyes on me in the dark truck.
"Absolutely. You're gorgeous. I totally have a hot girlfriend."
Kira laughs like I hoped she would, stalls a couple seconds and then says, "I'll think about it."
I'm not sure what that means. If she'll think about keeping her hair as it is? Like I said, I like her no matter what. I love that I never know what to expect from her, but I want her to do it just for fun, not to search for the girl who's already sitting next to me.
Kira's quieter than usual. I keep glancing at her, but her eyes stay forward. Soon, she's putting her window down all the way, her arm hanging out as she makes waves in the wind. Shouldn't be so sexy, but it is. Everything she does makes me see things differently. Even stupid arm waves.
And if anyone could hear my thoughts right now, I'd never live it down.
"You okay over there?" I ask, reaching my hand over to lay it on her thigh.
"Just thinking..."
"Truth or dare," I throw at her. It's up to her, if she wants to talk or not. That's the way we work, but this way, she knows I'm here to talk. That, just like she said, I want to know anything about her she wants to tell me.
Leaning back, she puts her feet up on my dashboard. "Truth. Lana might have found my mom."
"What?" Before she can reply, I pull over. This is definitely a park-on-the-side-of-the-road kind of conversation. The truck glows when I hit the interior light. "How did that happen?"
"I asked her to look a long time ago. She's done a lot of work for shelters around LA. Knows a lot of people. We always figured my...mom? That she had to be homeless or whatever. So people listen, ya know? One of the women, I guess she just got clean or something, she's still on the streets, but she's been asking around about a baby who was left at a shelter."
Just got clean. On the streets. Asking about a baby. "Come here." My hand cups her cheek and slides through her hair. I want nothing more than to be here for her, take care of her, let her know I'm here to listen or do whatever she needs. Because that's what she does for me, even if she doesn't realize it. And it feels good to give and take.
Kira scoots closer to me. Our foreheads touch. I'm still holding her, feeling the soft strands of her hair brushing against my fingers. "How do you feel about that? Her? I mean, do you want to meet her?"
She breathes. I breathe. We take turns, the heat of our air lingering and blending between us.
"I don't know. I mean, Lana's always been there. She loves me and I love her, so is it wrong to want to see who this lady is? I don't want to hurt Lana, and no matter what, she's my mom, but..."
I let my hand slide through her hair and cup the back of her neck.
"I also need to know who I am, Carter. She can tell me that."
"Hey." When I back away enough to see her, I notice her eyes are flooded. I've seen a lot of girls I care about cry: Mom, Sara, Mel, but nothing is like seeing Kira cry. She's fun, and wild, and free and happy. Tears don't belong in her eyes. Frowns don't belong on her lips. It's not right. "You have to do what you want, but meeting her? That's not going to tell you who you are. You already know who you are. I know who you are. You don't need her for that."