Part 29 (1/2)
I stare at him. If he had married my mom, taken care of me, maybe his life would never have led him to Camille. And he loves her. So what does that mean? If he had to go back and make a choice, would he change things? Would he pick her over me?
Something burns my stomach. Is it wrong I want it to be me?
Bob waves over the waitress and pays for the bill for the entire table. I make no move to stop him. When the bill is covered, we all stand. He walks over, looks down at me. I stare up.
”Dad?” I say softly, trying out the word on my tongue. He stares back at me, blinking. His eyes look moist. ”Dad,” I say again, with- out giving the word any meaning or emotion. ”I don't know what to call you. I don't know what to say. ”
”I know,” he says. And that's it. He turns to Camille.
The good- bye is awkward and clumsy, and I have to resist an urge to bolt. Bob reaches out and shakes my hand. I cringe as I hear myself say, ”Nice to meet you,” as if we finished a job interview and I know my chances are slim to none because I didn't get the answers right.
I feel as if I failed, that somehow I didn't measure up, that I didn't pa.s.s an invisible test- was found wanting.
I shuffle my feet as he reaches for Camille's hand and then, 195.
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J a n e t G u r t l e r without a look backward, he leaves. He makes no promises to see me again, to be my dad. He just waves. I watch his back as he walks away, expecting him to turn and say something about the future. I wait. He doesn't.
I duck my head. I'm exhausted. I can't shake the impression that I did something wrong, that I failed- that he's leaving me.
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chapter eighteen.
12. I'll never dance again. #thingsIthoughtweretrue E ven Amy is quiet on the walk back to the hostel.
It's a bright, s.h.i.+ny day, but a cool wind blows off the water.
We walk past old brick buildings mixed with modern buildings, and some of my negativity whooshes away with the breeze. The older buildings remind me of parts of Tadita, but almost every old- fas.h.i.+oned lamppost has a hanging basket of colorful flowers on it.
The colors and fresh air take a little more off the edge. It's hard to stay angry and dark when Vancouver Island is so beautiful and vibrant, as if it wants to cheer me up. We decide to take the long way back to the hostel, so we can stroll through the Inner Harbor by the water.
Amy's chatter restarts as we reach streets filled with tourists. People are selling food and beautiful paintings. Everywhere, there's music.
Amy stops in front of two cute guys playing guitar and singing a lively song. Without warning, she begins to spin and dance with her hands up in the air, her head back, pure joy on her face. She has absolutely no rhythm, but it doesn't matter. I smile, soaking up her happiness. When she grabs my hand and pulls me to her side, I decide to surrender to the music and dance with her. People sixteenthings.indd 197 9/9/13 2:21 PM.
J a n e t G u r t l e r around us stop to watch, but it doesn't stop me. They clap and cheer, and the musicians smile, encouraging us. The dancing turns into something so much more than beats- a deep soul cleanse.
When I dance and move, I feel free. I remember this. I love this and realize it was stolen from me. Dancing to music. Right there, I close my eyes and I take it back. Around us, people pull out their phones and cameras to take pictures of the musicians and Amy and me dancing, but it doesn't embarra.s.s or shame me. For the first time in a long, long while, I don't care about anything but losing myself in the moment. Screw Bob White. Screw my mom. Screw Lexi. And screw me.
When the song ends, Amy hugs me. The crowd claps and yells for more, but hand in hand we run back to Adam's side. He's smil- ing and clapping and whoops for more along with the musicians.
”I have always wanted to do that,” Amy pants to me. ”Thank you!” Her eyes s.h.i.+ne and we hug again.
”No. Thank you,” I tell her. I dig into my purse and throw some coins into the musician's guitar case filling with bills and coins from the crowd. We drift off with leftover giggles that fade as the singers begin a new song. I twirl and walk and my exhilaration starts to fade, but I won't forget it. This moment. The beauty of music and dancing is back.
Amy buzzes and chatters as we walk, until finally our hostel is in sight. ”What time do you want to leave in the morning?” Amy asks when we reach the front walkway.
”The earlier the better for me.”
Adam nods.
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1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e ”Are we still driving to Butchart Gardens this afternoon after we pick up the car?” Amy asks.
Adam shakes his head and mumbles about going to a flower garden, but we ignore him because we know he wants to go too and is only pretending to protest for his male ego.
Inside the hostel, we take turns using the washroom and get- ting ready. While Adam is out of the room, Amy comes over and sits beside me on my bed. ”I'm really sorry about what happened to you.”
I nod. ”I know you are, Amy. Thank you.”
”He doesn't seem too bad. Your dad, and Camille's real nice.”
I wince when she says the D word. I'm still processing.
Disappointed, like it's Christmas morning and I unwrapped all the gifts and didn't get the one I wanted. It makes me feel like a jerk- unappreciative of what I do have.
She pats my leg. ”Do you think it's better this way?” she asks.
”That you know the truth now? Or do you wish that you'd never found out?”
I pick up the pillow and hug it close to my chest. ”I don't know.”
”I'd want to know.” She hugs her knees in tight so she's a little ball. ”I think it's better to know the things we have to deal with.”
She stares off into s.p.a.ce, seeing something that I can't.
”Is everything okay, Amy?” I ask her.
She shakes her head back and forth and unwinds herself from the ball. ”It's fine.” She swings her legs off the bed and stands up.
”Thinking about you is all. I mean, your mom committed to a big lie a long time ago, and I wonder why she didn't just say he died or 199 sixteenthings.indd 199 9/9/13 2:21 PM.
J a n e t G u r t l e r something and leave it like that. I think it's because she knew it was wrong. Deep down. And she left it open to fixing.”
I shake my head. ”I can't even begin to understand.”