“Not physically. But yes. From him. From Otter.”
“They still together?”
“Do you care?” I ask.
She doesn’t respond.
“Yes,” I say. “They are. They’ve been married for a long time. Legally married. They’re going to have kids.”
“Wicked,” Izzie says.
A weird look comes over Julie’s face. “I’m going to be a grandm—”
“No,” I cut in. “You’re not. You don’t get to say that.”
She glares at me.
“I ran,” I tell my mother who is not my mom. “I ran because things got tough. Life got hard. I ran because it was easier than facing it head-on. And I almost lost….” I shake my head. It’s none of her business. Not about Dom. None of it. “I almost lost everything. And I thought it was all because of you. I thought I couldn’t breathe because of you. I thought it was all on you. But it’s not. This is about me. And despite you—maybe even because of you—I’m going to find my way back.” I think of Dom. And Otter. Most of all, I think of my brother. I owe him everything. “And I think I might have already started.”
“Good for you,” she says bitterly. “Anything else? Or do you want to throw more back in my face?”
“That’s how you see it?”
“That’s how it is.”
“You’re not my mother.”
“I gave birth to you.”
“You did,” I agree. “And there were times I can even remember being happy with you. Do you remember the kite?”
She starts to shake her head but then stops. I think she’s going to ignore it, but then she whispers, “It flew so high,” and a tear slides down her cheek. Just one.
“It did,” I say. “But you’re not my mother. My mother died when I was nine years old, and I let her go into the ocean because that’s what she wanted. That’s what she asked of me, and for her, I would have done anything. And she taught me… well. She taught me that family’s not always defined by blood. It’s those who make us whole. Those who make us who we are.”
“Who was she?” Izzie asks.
I smile at my little sister. “A kick-ass old lady named Mrs. Paquinn, who thought Bigfoot was real, drove an oversized Caddy the color of shit, and loved us all with everything she had.”
“She sounds epic,” Izzie says.
“The most epic there ever was.” I look back at my mother. “She’s smart,” I say, nodding at Isabelle.
“Reminds me of you.”
“Thought so. Why?”
She knows what I’m asking. “I had nothing left that was mine,” she says. She holds Izzie tighter. “She’s all that’s left.”
“Would you let her see me again? Us?”
The fear returns. “You can’t have her!”
“And I’m not going to take her. She deserves to know where she comes from. You owe her that.”
“Get out,” Julie says.
“She’s—”