Past Perfect Life Page 19

  “Oh, Ally, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Again, Craig gets it! “This has been hanging around Paula since I’ve known her. Even when Sarah was born—which was the happiest day of my life—there was a sadness in Paula. I’ve known about you for years, while you’re just finding out about me and Sarah and, well, your mother. So as far as I’m concerned, you’re handling everything really well. Your mom doesn’t think you need therapy. She’d be mad at me for even mentioning it. She really wants to get on with our lives, but I know this is going to be an adjustment for you. A tough one. So anything you need, you can come to me.”

  “Thanks, Craig. Really.”

  I weigh the idea of a therapist in my head. Do I really need to talk or think about what happened to me any more than I already do?

  There is something I want to talk to Craig about. It’s been nagging me since the plane ride, and I figure he’s my best shot to get some answers. “I have a question for you.”

  “Of course!”

  “Do you know anything about my dad’s family? I know my grandfather died.”

  Craig’s friendly expression falters for a minute. “Yes. They live outside Atlanta. Your father’s mother is in an assisted living facility near where your aunt lives. They’ve been in touch, but your mother doesn’t think it’s a good idea for you to talk to them right now.”

  “Wait, they’ve spoken to her?”

  “Yes. And I’m sure you want to talk to them; it’s your right. But we need to give us all time to adjust. I hate to admit it, but Paula blames them.”

  “He took me away from them, too,” I protest. Not to mention that Paula keeping me away from them is the same thing Dad had done to us.

  “I know, believe me, I know.” Craig rubs his forehead. “Please give your mother some more time. I don’t think she realizes how immovable she’s been. So I’ll work on her and get you to at least be able to talk to them soon.”

  “Okay,” I concede, because this is just another thing I have absolutely zero control over.

  He slaps his hands on his legs. “Well, I want to make sure that you mention to the social worker how kind and giving your stepfather is. Remember: burgers, cheese, so much food.”

  I look at the giant coffee table filled with food in the center of the sectional.

  Craig is right. Paula isn’t the only one who needs time to adjust. Once I get this family under my feet, I can work on getting to know Dad’s. I, unfortunately, have nothing but time here.

  Craig continues, “Plus, I got you not one, not two, but three, count them, three dips!”

  “And they were all delicious.”

  “I’m going to be too full for dinner tonight, but don’t tell your mom that.”

  I pretend to zip my lips.

  “But, seriously, I hope you give us a chance.”

  I nod, but feel torn. I like Craig. I like Sarah. But I love the people back home. I know a lot can change with time, but a lot can change with time. That includes things back home. What if by the time I get there, they’ve all moved on? Marian has a new best friend, Neil has a girlfriend …

  The door to the first-floor entrance opens, and we hear Paula coming up the stairs. “Did your team win?”

  “Yes,” I reply.

  She stands over Craig and me with her arms folded. “Good.”

  “Yeah.”

  Pause.

  More silence.

  More awkwardness.

  There’s this rhythm that I have with Craig and Sarah, even with the cell phone guy, that I can’t seem to find with Paula.

  I’m trying, but we got nothing.

  Chapter

  THIRTY-FIVE

  “I don’t like this.”

  Paula is rubbing her hands as Craig waits for her by the front door. She keeps looking between Sarah and me—her two daughters. She glances back at Craig. “I think it’s too soon to leave them alone. We should cancel dinner.”

  “Mooooom,” Sarah protests. “We aren’t going anywhere. We’re going to watch a movie and order food. And, no, we will not let the delivery guy into the house. Relax.” She stomps off while Paula looks me up and down. Every time she does this, I wonder what she’s looking for. The baby she used to bathe? The toddler who clung to her leg? Who?

  “It’s going to be fine. I have my phone if you need to reach me.” I use the soothing voice I reserve for when I’m babysitting for a family for the first time. “I can text you every so often to give you an update if that will help.” There was one family who I had to send a photo of their newborn to—aka proof of life—every half hour.

  Paula bites her lip. “I guess. Just so I know everything is okay.”

  To be honest, I’m excited for a little break from Paula’s hovering and the feeling I can’t seem to shake that I am not the daughter she was looking for.

  “That’s a nice dress.” I compliment Paula’s baby blue maxi dress. Her hair is up in a high ponytail, and she looks younger.

  “Thanks.” She fiddles with her bracelet. “And you know where the emergency numbers are?”

  “Yes. I also programmed them into my phone, just in case.”

  “Smart girl,” Craig says as he opens the door, hoping it will get Paula to move.

  It doesn’t.

  “Do you want Chinese or pizza?” Sarah comes back into the living room with menus. When she sees her parents, she stops. “You guys are still here?”

  Craig starts walking out the door. “We’re going! We’re going!”

  Paula pauses before she follows him.

  Once the door clicks and we hear the garage door open, Sarah throws her head back. “Finally! So, pizza?”

  Even though I’m still full from watching the game, I nod. Pizza and Movie Sister Sundays.

  It’s a tradition I wouldn’t mind starting.

  “Is Neil your boyfriend?” Sarah asks when she notices me texting with a smile on my face.

  “Um, no,” I reply.

  She stretches her legs out on the couch, a half-eaten piece of pizza in front of her. “You sound like you don’t know.”

  “Well, technically we’re friends.”

  “But?” she prods me. She takes a bite of pizza as she wiggles her eyebrows.

  “But … I live here now,” I state bluntly.

  “Oh.” Her mouth hangs open a little. Her playful demeanor shifts. “Do you like it here?”

  “It’s nice.” I don’t want to upset her by telling her how much I want to go back home. “I’m happy we’re hanging out. And I like hearing about all your friends.”

  She smiles at this. I want to brush back the strand of her long hair that is hanging in front of her face, but I don’t feel we’re at that level of closeness yet.

  We spent the half hour waiting for the pizza by telling each other about our friends. Sarah wanted a couple of them to come over today, but Paula thought it was too soon. She was worried they’d take pictures of me or something.

  “Have you and Neil kissed?” Sarah takes her two index fingers and moves them around while making smooching noises.

  Kids.

  Although it was the exact same gesture I’d done to Neil when I asked him about Dana.

  Like big sister, like little sister, I guess.

  “None of your business,” I state with a flip of my hair. I then take a big bite of pizza so I can’t talk for a while.

  “Oooh!” Sarah coos. Her phone beeps. She picks it up, laughs, and then frowns again. “I don’t know how I’d feel if we had to move. I was angry when we moved two miles from our old house. I used to live only a block away from my best friend.”

  “Stacey?” I confirm.

  “Yeah, Stacey. I’d be, like, really upset if I couldn’t see her again.”

  “Well, I’ll see Neil again.” I hope. “And Marian is coming next week. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

  Sarah nods. “Me too. But then she has to leave.”

  I try to not let her see how much that’s ripping me up inside. “Yes
, then she has to leave. But I’ll see her again.”

  “But it’s not the same.”

  “No, it’s not the same.”

  “But you’re staying here until at least graduation, right?”

  “Right,” I reply.

  “Promise?” She holds out her pinkie.

  This is not a hard thing to pinkie swear, since, you know, I don’t have a choice. “Promise.”

  “Good!” She beams. “I overheard Mom and Dad talking, and they didn’t think you’d stay. That’s why they were so quick to come get you. I guess they wanted to start the bribing as soon as they could.”

  My face scrunches as I try to understand what she’s saying. So were the iPhone and clothes and Packers watching some sort of bribe? But for what?

  “I’m sorry.” Sarah looks down at the floor. “I’m sorry I was so mean to you when you came here. I just …” A tear starts to fall down her cheek.

  “Oh, Sarah.” I sit next to her and wrap my arms around her. “I don’t blame you for being upset. This has changed a lot for you, too.”

  “I know. It’s just … It’s not fair. I’m glad you’re here, but it’s just not fair.”

  No, it’s not.

  Chapter

  THIRTY-SIX

  “Come in! Come in!” Paula brightly greets a young woman in a navy suit on Monday morning.

  I stand uncomfortably near the door in a floral dress that Paula had insisted she buy on Friday and that I wear now to meet the social worker.

  Ms. Martinez gives me a warm smile as we’re introduced. I feel my nerves creep up. I have zero power over what’s happening to me, but this woman does.

  “How are you doing?” Ms. Martinez asks me.

  “I’m good,” I reply flatly.

  Paula laughs nervously. “Would you like another tour of the house?”

  “Another?” I ask.

  Ms. Martinez turns to me. “I came here before you were allowed to move in.”

  But I came right from Wisconsin with Paula and Craig; when did she come?

  Ms. Martinez can sense my confusion. “I was here the day before your mother and Mr. McMullen flew to get you.” She turns to Paula. “I’d like to speak to Amanda alone.” Ms. Martinez gives Paula a tight smile. There’s something in her smile, a don’t-challenge-me look that brings my hopes up.

  “Of course, of course,” Paula says as she gestures for us to sit down on the couch. “I’ll go upstairs to give you some privacy.”

  Ms. Martinez studies the staircase that leads to the second floor, which looks over the living room. “We’ll be in the kitchen.”

  I follow her into the kitchen, where we sit down at the counter as Paula heads upstairs. Ms. Martinez opens her briefcase and pulls out over a dozen manila file folders. She scans them until she selects one and then crams the rest back in.

  All the hope I had felt simmers out. I’m one of many. When you come from a small town, you’re used to having people look out for you. But for Ms. Martinez, I’m simply another case number.

  “How are things going here?” she asks as she flips open the file and starts jotting down notes before I even speak.

  “Fine.”

  “Are you adjusting to your new family well?”

  “I am, but—”

  Ms. Martinez cuts me off and continues checking off items on her list. “And it says you’re going to start school tomorrow?”

  “We’re going over this afternoon so I can get a tour, but yes. I want to start as soon as possible. I haven’t been to school in weeks.” It feels like months, but when I count back, I’ve only missed one entire week of school. “I really want some normalcy. Get back to a regular schedule,” I explain. Plus, I’m bored. I don’t feel comfortable enough to really feel at home. But I can’t tell her any of that. Or can I?

  “Is the family treating you well?”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  She looks up from her notes. “Yes.”

  “What are my options? No one has ever explained what my options are. I’ve been told I’m a minor so I have to go with my parent. Everybody keeps saying I have to stay until graduation. But do I have any choices?”

  “What’s the problem?” She looks around the pristine kitchen. I see how it appears to her. She probably has lots of clients in houses that aren’t this nice. Kids with abusive parents. I know I have it easy compared to others.

  “There isn’t a problem, per se. But I’ve had my entire life turned upside down and I really want to go back to Wisconsin.”

  “Your family is here,” she states bluntly. “Have you been touched in an inappropriate way?”

  “No!”

  “Are they not providing for you?”

  “They are.”

  “So what’s the issue? They’re your family. They’ve given you a lovely home to live in. From what I understand it’s a vast improvement over your past living situation.”

  Okay, now that pisses me off. I don’t need stainless steel appliances or down pillows or organic chicken to make me happy. Maybe I’m super messed up or maybe I do have Stockholm syndrome, but I miss the life I had with my dad.

  At first, I felt obliged to right Dad’s wrong when it came to Paula. I should get to know my mother. Just not in a move-to-Florida-forever sense. I was in such a haze when everything happened that I went along with what the grown-ups told me. Sheriff Gleason said I had to stay until graduation. Now I’m starting to see more clearly. There’s been something nagging at the back of my mind after what Sarah said yesterday about Paula and Craig thinking I was going to leave. “What happens when I turn eighteen?”

  She raises her eyebrow at me. “You’re an adult.”

  “So that means I can decide what happens to me.”

  She sighs. “Being an adult is more than an age. If you leave here, how are you going to provide for yourself? I believe your father’s assets have been frozen. You only have”—she looks at my file—“less than twelve hundred dollars in savings. Where are you going to live? How are you going to pay for food or shelter? What will your transcripts look like with you bouncing around from school to school?”

  As I absorb her words, I realize turning eighteen doesn’t automatically make you an adult in the real sense. Yes, I’d be allowed to leave Paula’s, but then what? I can’t be more of a burden to the Gleasons—financially or otherwise. That’s probably why Sheriff Gleason told me I had to stay until graduation.

  Ms. Martinez glances at her phone. “Anything else you’d like to tell me?”

  So, basically, I need to just shut up and deal.

  Six months.

  I can do this.

  “Yeah,” I reply. She looks up from her notes. “Can you not tell Paula about this?”

  “Everything between us is confidential. I’ll give you my card, and call if you need anything. I’ll come again in two weeks to check in on you.”

  Two weeks. I’ve been here for five days, and it already feels like an eternity.

  She stands up. “I know this is an adjustment for you, but you should realize how lucky you are.”

  Funny, I don’t feel the slightest bit lucky. I feel cursed. Doomed to a life that belongs to someone else.

  Amanda Linsley would have—no doubt—been happy here. She would’ve lived with a life intact. She would’ve been happy shuffling back and forth between her two parents. Or maybe she would’ve eventually lived with her dad. I have no idea.

  What I do know is that I am not Amanda Linsley. Or Allison McMullen. Or Allison Johnson.

  I’m Ally Smith. And Ally Smith has to wait six months to go home.

  Chapter

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Because I’m one of those nerds who like school, the first day of school was always fun for me. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to a future in education. I’d pack my book bag with brand-new notebooks and pens. I couldn’t wait to fill them, and my brain, with new information.

  I can say with absolute certainty I’ve never had a first
day like this before.

  When Paula took me to visit John F. Kennedy High School, I didn’t want to get out of the car. It’s the size of two city blocks. There are nearly two thousand students—the population of Valley Falls. As I was given the tour, which included a map, I knew I was going to get lost. Not just physically lost, but lost in a sea of students.

  Back home, I was top of the class. Here, I’m one of many. I’m not even qualified to be in their AP classes.

  Paula, of course, was excited. “Look on the bright side: new friends!” she remarked cheerily. Yet another thing to make me a new person. A different person. Not me.

  I walk downstairs to an empty kitchen. I forgot to ask what the morning routine is around here during the week. Craig and Sarah were gone by the time I got downstairs yesterday.

  I open the refrigerator and pull out items to make myself lunch. I feel like an intruder opening drawers trying to find sandwich bags and utensils. I was told to make myself at home, so I make a turkey sandwich and grab an apple, and some leftover chips from Sunday.

  “Good morning.” Paula’s dressed in a nice blue-and-green wrap dress. She’s going back to work today at the hospital. Everybody is getting back to their normal lives. “I was going to give you money for lunch.”

  “I like to bring my lunch,” I state, although I did get to see the cafeteria during the tour. It was—no surprise—huge. I already planned on taking my lunch outside to sit under a tree and read.

  “I can make eggs for breakfast.” Paula opens the fridge. “Or do you want cereal?”

  “What do you usually do?”

  “We usually watch TV and do our own thing,” Sarah says as she walks into the kitchen wearing her middle-school uniform. I’m a tad jealous she doesn’t have to think about her school outfits in the morning. I didn’t know what to wear today. The students I did see yesterday were all stylish: colorful dresses, fitted tops, tight jeans, heels. It was all jeans and sweaters back home. I settled on a new outfit from the other day: a pair of dark skinny jeans and a short-sleeved cotton-and-lace T-shirt.

  Sarah opens a drawer and pulls out a box of Honey Nut Cheerios. “You want some?” she offers.