Page 43 of True Confessions

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“Yep. She’s on the TV.”

On the TV? “You mean her picture is on your TV?”

“Yep.”

One more question and then she promised to stop. “Where does your mom work?”

“I’m not supposed to talk about that.”

Really? Hope immediately wondered what Dylan’s ex-wife did that was so bad Adam couldn’t talk about it. Hooker or stripper came to mind. “Hey,” she said and pointed to the drawing of her. “My nose isn’t that big!”

Adam nodded and laughed. “It

is now.”

“Fine.” She grabbed another piece of paper and drew Adam with big ears and crossed eyes. “Look at you,” she said, and the race was on to draw the goofiest face. When they finished, Adam won with his picture of Hope picking her nose with “wolverine claws.”

“What do I get?” he asked.

“What do you mean, ‘What do I get’?”

“I won. I get something.”

“Hmm… I have some microwave popcorn.”

“No way.” He looked around and pointed at the stuffed bobcat on the hearth. “What about that?”

“I can’t let you have that. It’s not mine.”

He pointed to the bearskin rug. “That?”

“Nope.” Hope rose to her feet and walked into the dining room. The only thing she could think to give him was a small crystal hummingbird she’d bought to hang in the window by her computer. “How about this?”

“What’s it do?”

“When you hold it up to the light,” she explained as she handed it to him, “it shoots really cool prisms around the room. It works best in sunlight.” His hair was a little too long and fell in his eyes as he studied the bird. She wondered what it would feel like beneath her fingers, or what he’d do if she pushed it from his eyes.

“It’s pretty, huh?”

“I thought so,” she said and gave in to her curiosity. She raised her hand and combed his hair off his forehead. Warmed by his scalp, the baby-fine strands slid through her fingers.

Maybe one little boy wouldn’t be so bad to have around the house, she thought as she dropped her hand to her side. “What do you think?”

Adam’s shoulder itched and he scratched it. The bird was kinda girly, but okay, he guessed. “It’s all right.” He shrugged and walked back into the living room, watching his bare toes as he moved to the tent. He looked over at Hope. “Tell me when my dad gets here,” he said and crawled inside next to Wally. He lay down on a sleeping bag they’d found in a closet upstairs and stared up at the blankets arching over his head. He wished he were at home. He wished his dad would hurry.

He held up the bird Hope had given him, then lowered it real close to his eyes. Light from the living room filtered in through the blankets and if he squinted really hard, he could see it through the hummingbird. He thought about Hope, and about her drawing pictures with him even when his dad wasn’t around. She’d given him a present, too. And she hadn’t brought it to his house just so she could see his dad. Not like those other girls.

Maybe Hope was like Shelly. Shelly wasn’t like the others. She didn’t come over and pretend she liked Adam so she could talk to his dad.

He rolled onto his side and shoved the little bird into his shorts pocket. Maybe he’d find Hope a cool rock. He liked it when she took pictures of him and Wally, and he liked those blue boots she wore sometimes. She’d built the tent out of blankets, and she was funny when she ran from bats. He liked the way her hair shone.

Like an angel. Like his mom. Adam knew his mother wasn’t a real angel. He knew she lived in California and sometimes in Montana with his grandfather, but never in heaven. He knew she didn’t sit around on clouds and pray a lot, because she didn’t even pray at dinnertime. He knew his mom couldn’t live with them ‘cause she had to be on television. He knew he couldn’t tell all his friends about his mother because then people would come and bug her during their special time in Montana. The only friend who knew about his mom was Wally, and he couldn’t tell anyone, either.

Adam tried to keep his eyes open, but the left one kept shutting. He thought maybe he’d close them both for just a few minutes, give them a rest before his dad came.

He knew his mom was an actress and that was her job. He knew some of the stuff she did wasn’t for real, like she couldn’t fly and she couldn’t come into the room and be invisible if she wanted. But he figured some of the stuff she did on her show had to be real, and he wished he could meet those kids she’d saved when their house caught fire last week. She’d saved their cat, too. And his mom knew Santa Claus. She’d saved Santa when he’d drunk too much and got hit by a bus. She’d told him that he had to live for all the kids in the world who loved him, and Adam wished he could go to the North Pole and meet Santa. He and Wally had talked about that. Since his mom had saved Santa, for Christmas Adam would ask for something big, like the go-cart his dad said he couldn’t have until he turned ten.

Adam yawned and shoved his hand beneath his cheek. He wished his mom could come live with him and his dad. Maybe if he were really good and wanted it really a lot, she would.


Tags: Rachel Gibson Fiction