His head dips in a slight nod. “As long as you’re interested, you can do anything.”
I don’t know why I’m asking, but it feels wrong to ignore it. “And what about the business?”
A wistful, almost teasing smile tips his lips, and he glances away. “We’ll figure it out. It will, obviously, pass into your name. There are ways to delegate. Or, barring that, maybe my passion for it skips a generation. I’m certain that girl of yours will eventually help you find out.” He breathes a laugh, reiterating, “Eventually.”
Staring stock-still at my father, I try not to let the meaning behind those words give me any ideas. If my red face is anything to show for it, however, I completely fail.
Calypso
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Mom.” Too much hope fills the word. It pounds in my heart. I catch up to her in the crowd, and I can’t shake how lost she looks while searching for me. I don’t know what’s going to happen, what she’s going to say.
Mere weeks is nowhere near enough time to completely change, and it isn’t enough time to even begin healing, but if she just shows me, in some small way, that she’s sincerely willing to try…
She faces me, something glassy in her eyes, like unshed tears. Holding one of the programs, that I’m just now realizing bears my name, she stops wandering.
I hold my breath and don’t know what to say. I want to tell her I didn’t know Mr. D’plume was going to out me to everyone. I want to defend that I told her the truth. But that doesn’t seem right. If I feel like I still have to defend myself when I’m not doing anything wrong, we’ll never get anywhere.
“I can’t believe you wrote that,” Mom offers.
My chest squeezes, and I nod, wringing my hands. I don’t have my braids to toy with, not that Mom much likes when I do anyway. “Yeah.”
“On the floor by your bed?”
I nod. “Yeah. Mostly when I was home alone and you were at work.”
She winces. “All of it?”
“Yeah.” My voice keeps getting smaller. It isn’t very “Harriet” of me.
“I’m sorry.”
My gaze snaps up to hers, and I freeze, trying to remember the last time I’ve ever heard her apologize to me.
She doesn’t try to hold my eyes. “I’m really not sure if I was a good mother, Caly. You’ve given me too much time alone to think about that. When you’re not at home, it’s really easy to see where you’re missing, how much you do and take care of me while I’ve deluded myself into thinking it was the other way around.” Her hands clutch the program, then loosen, like it was an accident. “I did do my best.”
“I know.” I don’t hesitate, even if I’m worried she might use my eagerness to absolve her crimes against me.
A forlorn smile falls on her lips. “You really are brilliant. I always knew that. I guess I never knew how to get you to show it. I’ve projected too many fears onto you all these years.”
And I’ve internalized each and every one.
Threading my fingers together, I twist my hands. “I don’t think showing brilliance is something that can be forced.”
Her expression sours. “I’d not thought I was forcing it.”
“It’s what it felt like.”
Her gaze narrows, but she doesn’t push the topic. Instead, she changes it. “Are you getting along well with that boy?”
I look behind me, trying to find him, but the murmur of the crowd has swallowed him whole. Blush coats my cheeks. “Yeah. But we haven’t. You know. We aren’t actually even dating.” We haven’t, actually, even confessed at all.
“Hm.”
I’m not sure if she believes me or not, but again she doesn’t press it.
“I want you to come home.”
