Chapter 40

I robotically went through the motions to shower and change as one thought after another assaulted my mind.

What did she want? That was the million dollar question. She wouldn't be here if she didn't want something.

Daddy? Was she now willing to settle down and enjoy the things in life his hard work could now provide her? After she'd left him to establish and build a practice plus raise a daughter on his own while she had her fun? Or worse, was she planning to worm her way back into his life while still sneaking off to be with her other men?

Daddy's no different than any man. Wave a pussy in front of him and he'll sniff. And, no matter what she put him through, he still talked about how good she had been in bed. I snorted. Wanda cuts him off and four or five hours later here she comes, waving her twat in his face.

Maybe it was me. After most of my life, she had a change of heart and decided to settle down and be a mommy. Pretend it never happened. Pull me away from Jack and raise me "properly," the way my father wouldn't. Even though she'd had nothing to do with any of us since I was two, all she needed to do was stand us all in front of a judge and point out how Jack and I were living together and the judge would take all of Daddy's rights away from him, rip me out of Jack's house and put me under her care and supervision. He'd probably take two thirds of anything Daddy made and give it to her, too, throwing him out on the street so she could live in the house he built. I mean, look at him. He had let me whore around while he stayed at home and fucked his own little teenager. She had the perfect case.

Daddy has an old fashioned photo album with pictures of him and my mother when they were dating, of their wedding, on their honeymoon. And there are a few of her pregnant and one of her in the hospital, holding me in her arms just after I'd been born.

I've seen those pictures twice. The first time I must have been about four. I woke up in the middle of the night and went to the bathroom. I decided to see what there was to drink and found him in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee, looking at the pictures. After getting me a glass of milk, he sat me in his lap and we went through it from cover to cover. The other time was when some of the kids at school had been talking about their parents and stepparents and visitations and such. I must have been seven or eight and I asked to see the pictures. He brought out the book that evening and we sat down on the couch and went through it.

I've never professed to be the perfect little angel. I don't think Daddy has succeeded in hiding a Christmas or birthday present from me since I turned five. There aren't many things in that house that are secrets to me. But I've never come across that photo album on my own. And believe me, I've looked.

That night when I was four, I asked Daddy who the baby was in the last picture. It never occurred to me that it was me. In fact, I think I was shocked. Daddy had always been up front and told me that she got tired of him and left. My father's work was pregnant women and babies and I wasn't afraid to ask questions. I was much better informed on the subject than your typical four year old girl. Lord knows our relationship wasn't hidden from me; Daddy always referred to her as my mother. But when I saw that picture of her with a baby in her arms, it didn't register in my brain that she was really my mother and that made me her daughter. Of course she would have had me in her arms. I had come out of her tummy so we had to be together at some point.

I think that one picture made more of an impression on me than any other the others. I never told anyone about it, but I would lie awake nights wondering if it was really Daddy she got tired of or if she didn't want me. In all the other pictures, she was a beautiful woman, happy, smiling, obviously in love with my father. The two or three where she was pregnant didn't show that glow that a pregnant woman normally has. In the picture with me, Daddy was smiling but she wasn't. She had a sad, far-away look on her face, almost as if she had already left and the body was left behind, waiting for the right time to follow at some point later. Any time I asked my father why she wasn't smiling, he told me that she was tired because I'd just been born. I saw "tired," but I saw "don't want to be here," too.

When a cat has kittens or a dog has puppies, she'll take care of them for a while and then they're on their own. The father has usually been gone a few seconds after he's had his fun. Is that all my father and I had meant to her all those years ago? Were we the puppies to her bitch? Sticking around a couple of years until I was off the bottle and could get around a bit and then splitting to a place where she didn't need to be responsible, to a place where love wasn't required?

I don't remember any mommy-daughter moments. The only real memories I have of her are when she argued with my father, behind the closed bedroom door. I can still hear that raised voice yelling at him, insulting him. And there are plenty of pictures of me growing up but the only one with she and me is that one taken in the hospital.

The woman next to my father today didn't look like the one in the pictures. She looked used up. I wondered how many men, how many bottles, how many pills and syringes she'd gone through since she wandered off to her better life?

Twice I'd seen her across the street when I got to school. Sitting in that old beat up car, watching. How many other times had she been where I was that I missed because I was too occupied, living my life? How long had she been stalking me? And why? God damn it! I didn't know why.

I know everyone on the team was excited about winning the match but I didn't talk to anyone. I vaguely remember a few people coming up to me and me saying something before they went away. I don't know if I was mean or insulting or even if what I said made sense. None of it is clear, almost as if I dreamed it. I managed to get through the shower and dress myself, putting my shoes on the right feet and my clothes right side out. I was zipping up my gym bag when I felt a couple of hands just below my shoulders. I looked over to see Beth smiling at me. She gently guided me out of the gym and handed me over to Jack, all without saying a word.

Jack took my gym bag in one hand and my hand in the other. "The car's over here,"he said. Before we'd taken a dozen steps I had both arms wrapped around his, my cheek buried in his bicep. After walking for a few minutes I saw the car, Mary sitting in the front seat.

Jack stopped. "Jill, I have to go get Charlie. I'm sorry but it's not something I can put off. You can come with us if you can handle it or I can take you home. Whatever you want."

"Mexico. I don't want to see her."

He reached over with his free hand and took my chin, lifting my face up. Leaning over, he kissed me on the lips. Definitely not sexual, not even really sensual; the kiss conveyed so much love I felt like I was melting into him. My Jack would keep me safe.

We started moving again and then Mary was holding the door open for me. I let go of Jack and slid in, grabbing onto his arm as soon as he was back in the car.

Nobody said anything as Jack guided us out of the parking lot and onto the main drag. He looked over at me. "We have plenty of food left. I figured we'd munch on that. If we're hungry, we can stop and grab something to eat when we get near San Diego."

Nobody said anything until I finally realized he was talking to me. "San Diego will be fine, Jack."

Mary said, "Uh, I ate the shrimp cocktail."

Both of us said, "That's fine, Mary," at the same time.

He turned onto the 405 south. Traffic wasn't too bad at this time and we were able to keep a consistent 45 miles an hour. We passed a couple of exits and then it just became too much for me. Like a dam breaking, the tears poured out of me as I held Jack's arm.

I don't know how long I cried. At some point I realized that I was still holding onto Jack and that Mary was hugging me from behind. The only thing I could think of was that she had to be uncomfortable sitting like that. I sat back in the seat, still holding onto Jack. Mary eased over a bit but still kept her hand on my arm.

"Where are we?"

Mary just looked at me and shrugged. Jack said, "Irvine. We're just past the Y."

"The Y?"

"Where the 405 and 5 split. Actually, going this way, it's where they join."

"Oh."

"Would you like something to eat or drink?"

I reached down to the trash container and picked up my grape juice. The box was empty. So was Jack's apple.

"We drank those a while ago. Mary, grab another grape out of the bag for Jill."

"OK." She bent over, picked up the shopping bag and dug through it.

I watched her struggle with the straw and when she started raising it to her mouth I said, "Use a pen."

She turned pink and said, "Oh. I didn't think about that."

I didn't realize how much the crying had dehydrated me until I ran out of juice. Mary just smiled and took the box out of my hand, handing me the apple juice.

Jack said, "Hey, Mare. Do you think you can cut me a chunk of cheese without hurting yourself?"

She just stuck her tongue out at him and pulled the cheese and knife out of the bag.

"Can I have some cheese, too, please?"

She smiled and gave me the piece she had cut for Jack, then cut him another chunk. By the time she'd cut some for herself and was taking a bite, I was ready for more.

We finished up the cheese and then we each had an apple. After my first bite, I looked at Jack.

"Did she say what she wanted?"

"I don't know. I left when you did."

"You did? Where did you go?"

"I was following you."

"Why didn't you come to me?"

"Jill, I must have called you half a dozen times. You just kept going. I stayed about ten feet behind you until you went inside the gym."

"I guess I wasn't paying attention to a whole lot. How about you, Mary? You were there. You must have heard something."

"She didn't show up until the game was almost over. I heard someone calling 'Johnnie, ' then saw your father turn to her. She signaled for him to come over. He went over to the stairs and they went up almost to the top, then talked for a few minutes, still standing on the stairs. Then the crowd started cheering because the game was over. The next thing I knew, they were back and she was sitting next to him, then you showed up."

"What about after I left?"

"He was mad. He said something like, 'God Damn it, Vivian. I see your timing is still fucked, ' then he stood Wanda up, shouted he'd see us later, then the two of them left."

"What did Vivian do?"

"Your mom? She... '

"That woman is not my mom. She may have given birth to me but she never has been and never will be my mom."

"I'm sorry. She got up and left, too."

"Did she go with him?"

"No. I don't think so. You know how slow it is on the stairs when everyone's leaving. By the time she got in with the crowd going down the stairs, they were way ahead of her. And your father looked pissed. He wasn't slowing down for anyone."

"He was mad? He wasn't all over her?"

"Jill, he looked like he wanted to strangle her before he left."

I took a deep breath. "Thank God. I thought she'd talk herself back into his bed."

"The way Wanda was hanging on his arm, she'd know she'd been in a fight if she tried."

"Mary, you don't know her. Before Daddy and your mom started going out, he was convinced he was still in love with her and wasn't good enough for anybody else. And if she showed up and snapped her fingers, she'd have been able to make him jump through whatever hoops she wanted him to. She might have to work a little now, but I don't think Wanda would be any match for Vivian if she set her mind to getting Daddy back."

Jack said, "She can't be any better at manipulating your father than you are."

I had my arms wrapped around his arm when he said that. My first reaction was to snap back at him, to acknowledge his sarcastic remark with one of my own. But then I closed my eyes and thought about what he said.

It was quiet in the car for a minute. I was still thinking about it when Jack finally spoke again.

"Look, Jill. I didn't mean anything by that. I was just trying to lighten things up. Maybe I shouldn't have..."

I smiled at him and squeezed his arm. "It's OK. She was only around for three or four years before she took off. And the one thing I remember about him is the fights I used to hear her and Daddy having when they thought I was asleep. I've had fifteen years to learn how to manipulate him. And he never argues with me. If she pitted herself against me in a battle to convince Daddy of anything, she'd be lucky to get out alive."

I kissed Jack on the cheek. "Don't you see? I've been worried about what she wants and it doesn't really matter. No matter what she wants, she had her chance thirteen years ago and she blew it."

We were down to the point where the 805 freeway split from the 5. Jack started easing over to the left.

"I thought the 5 went down to Mexico."

"It does. Charlie said to take the 805. It enters Mexico more to the east. And that's the way he told Mary to go."

We passed a sign that said San Diego was 8 miles away. "We shouldn't be too far from Mexico, huh?"

"No. Maybe 25 miles, give or take."

"You still want to get something to eat?"

"Why? You hungry?"

"I could eat. But I've really gotta pee."

Mary said, "Me too."

Jack eased over to the right lane and took the next exit. He drove around and made a couple of turns and the next thing I knew, we pulled into a parking lot with a large sign that read Boll Weevil.

"Ladies, we're here."

Mary and Jack both opened their doors. She got out, then yelled, "Where's Here?"

Jack said, "A friend of mine told me about this place. There are a dozen or so of them in San Diego county, all pretty much the same. I saw a billboard a few miles before we took the 805."

He pulled a heavy door open and held it for us. The floor was a dark hardwood, as were the tables and chairs. There were Western things hanging up all over the place. Pots and pans and other cooking utensils you'd expect the chuck wagon to have on a cattle drive, some pretty impressive paintings of Indians in their buckskins and feathers, sitting proudly on their horse or gathered in front of the fire. A hostess came up to us with some menus in her arms.

Mary said, "Where's the..."

She pointed and said, "Right past the kitchen there, just go down that hallway."

Mary and I took off and she followed after us, Jack in her wake. Mary had just pulled the restroom door open when I heard her say, "You can sit right over there, near the window. Will anyone be wanting coffee?" The door closed before I had a chance to hear his answer.

Mary and I used the toilets and stood in front of the sinks, freshening up.

"How are you doing, Mary?"

She turned to me, her brush near her hair. "Pretty good. Pretty good."

There was something she was thinking about. I could tell by looking at her. "What..."

"Oh, I had a lot of time to think driving down here. I don't know if I could handle what you're going through. And we're on the way to a different country to pick up my boyfriend because the doctors in this country almost killed his mother. And I'm worried about getting laid. I want to, don't get me wrong. But if we have to wait a while for it to be right with everyone, it's not going to kill me. It's not as important as I've been making it."