Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“Did you take your lady friend on a date?” Mom asks.
“Lady friend?” Ruth parrots her like Paxton, her actual parrot, would do.
“That was a secret, Mom.” I return to the living room and sit on the arm of the sofa.
“Ruth won’t tell Lola.”
“Unless you don’t reveal what I’m not supposed to tell.” Ruth again gives me her owl-eyed inspection without stopping her hands from working the yarn and hook.
“Ozzy has a woman he likes. She’s a pilot. And he said she’s pretty,” Mom says, turning down the volume on the TV.
“Tell us more. Did you spend the weekend with her?” Ruth asks.
I keep the details brief. “I saw her this weekend.”
“When do we get to meet her?” Mom asks.
“Good question.” I blow out a long breath. “I’m trying to sort through the pieces of my life to see where they fit. I don’t bring a lot of normalcy to the table, so I don’t know what’s fair to ask of Maren.”
“Maren,” Ruth murmurs. “That’s a lovely name. Is it Danish?”
I chuckle. “I have no clue.”
Ruth’s lips twist. “I believe it is.”
“Did she stay the night?” Mom asks.
I don’t want to answer the question. It’s her polite way of asking if we had sex. Why else would she stay the night?
“Dad!” Lola saves me from answering the question as she runs toward me from the back door, then wraps her arms around my waist.
“Hey, pumpkin. Did you have a fun time?”
“Yes. Oh my gosh, I played with Paxton and Addie. Addie’s grandparents live next door, but Addie lives in California. Can you believe that? I told her my mom used to live there. And when she asked about my face, I told her everything. She thinks my scars look kind of cool. She showed me her stomach. She had some operation, and she has a scar from it. So we’re scar friends.” Lola barely takes a breath.
I try to keep up by constantly nodding, even though her jumping from one thing to another makes it difficult. The biggest takeaway, and the only one that matters, is that she’s happy and had a good time.
“Did you paint my room and put up my lights? Huh? Pretty please tell me that you did!” She makes prayer hands by her face.
“Go get your bag packed. You’ll just have to see what I did or didn’t do.”
“That’s a yes!” She runs down the hallway.
“Please tell me you painted that girl’s room.” Mom laughs.
“I did.”
“You’re a good dad, Oswald. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I push off the sofa and bend over to hug her. “And thanks for letting her stay here.”
“Anytime,” Mom and Ruth say in unison.
“I’m ready,” Lola singsongs, dumping her bag onto the floor to tie her shoes.
“If you’re ever in my neighborhood with . . . anyone . . .” Mom clears her throat. “Stop by.”
I roll my eyes. “Sure thing.”
Ruth smirks just before Lola hugs my mom, and we head out the door. The whole way home, Lola gives me a play-by-play of her entire weekend. She’s okay.
I don’t know when or how, but she’s going to let go of her trauma, get into a car, and be okay.
As soon as we reach our driveway, she parks her bike, and by park her bike, I mean she lets it fall onto its side in the grass. She abandons her bag on the porch and barrels through the door.
“Don’t worry. I’ll put the bikes away. I’ll get your bag. I’ll close the front door,” I say to myself.
I hear her screams of joy as I reach the door. But before I reach the threshold, a taxi stops on the street. Tia and Amos climb out of it. So, after tossing Lola’s bag into the entry, I head back outside to help them with their luggage.
“It’s just one suitcase. I’ve got it,” Amos says, closing the trunk.
“Did you fix our car?” Tia asks.
I plaster on my usual fake smile. “I did.”
“Good,” she says, and when her gaze meets mine, she pays me something resembling a sincere smile and murmurs, “Thank you.”
I know those two words must taste bitter on her lips.
“I appreciate it, Oz.” Amos does a better job of actually being sincere.
“No problem.” I lead them into the house.
“What did you do all weekend?” Tia asks, hanging her rain jacket on the coat-tree.
“Aside from fixing your car, planting your seedlings, painting Lola’s room, and installing her LED lights?” I lean my hip against the banister and cross my arms.
Tia’s lips part into an O. I smirk, stopping short of gloating. Hopefully, that’s enough for her to chew on, and she won’t need to ask if I did anything else.
“Is Lola home?” She heads toward the bedroom where Amos took the suitcase.
“She’s downstairs,” I say.
“Did everything go okay at your mom’s house?” Tia asks, stopping at her bedroom door.