He looks at me again. “I don’t want you to hold that against her. She was who she was. She had a hard life, from very early on, and all she knew was running. It’s how she survived. And once you get into that habit, I think it’s hard to stop.”
It’s too much. I want to retreat to my room, dive into my bed, hold Sadie close, forget I ever heard all of this. All this time, deep down, I’ve held on to this hope that it wasn’t her choice. That she was gone because something happened to her. I thought maybe that’s what my dad thought, too, that that was why he didn’t talk about it.
I don’t know what it says about me. That I would rather think that something bad happened to my mother than that she’s out there somewhere happily living her life without us.
But I have to stop being soft. Have to stop being the sad, unwanted, abandoned daughter and sister. Have to stop turning my head from what I don’t want to see.
“What kind of a hard life?” I ask. “Was she running because someone was after her?”
I can feel Dad judging me, trying to decide if I’m old enough to know whatever it is he’s about to say. “She didn’t tell me everything. But I do know she…had a traumatic childhood. She didn’t talk to her parents. I believe she was abused, though I don’t know if it was her father or someone else, and they just…let it happen.”
“Was there anyone else who might have wanted to…hurt her? Or hurt her family?”
Dad looks startled. “No. No, Addie. I don’t want you thinking like that.” He shakes his head. “What happened to Fiona had nothing to do with your mother.”
That’s what he believes. I can tell by his face. But that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s true.
There’s one more thing I have to ask.
“I ran into Mrs. Rodriguez today.” I hesitate. “And she said something…about Mom.”
Like someone letting down a curtain, all the little parts of my father’s face—his eyes, the corners of his mouth, the skin around his hairline—fall. And that’s when I know.
“What did she say?” he asks quietly.
“She said Mom was a…whore.” I can’t look at my dad when I say that. “And I know there were rumors, when she disappeared. That maybe she was”—I almost choke on the words, but I get them out—“cheating on you. So I can’t help but wonder if there’s any truth to that.”
My dad’s face is pale.
He clears his throat. “I suppose I should…You’re old enough to…” He clears it again. “Mrs. Rodriguez said that because—your mother and Mr. Rodriguez had an affair.”
I let out a breath. “When?”
“I didn’t find out about it until after they were both gone. It was Gail—Mrs. Rodriguez—who told me. Apparently, it had been going on the year prior.”
“Do you think they ran away together that summer?”
Dad looks so tired. And so old. “I don’t know.”
“What does Mrs. Rodriguez think?”
“We haven’t discussed it in a very long time. But that was her theory.”
I’m still for a long moment.
It was all true. Mom cheating. I wonder if something like that is hereditary. If that’s what led me to Seth that night.
Then Dad goes on: “When your mother and I were dating, she would…do things like that. Ed was the first one since we were married that I—” He stops himself. But I’m almost certain he was about to say that I knew about.
That omission makes me bold. “Was there anyone else?”
My father looks down at his plate. “Not that I was aware of.”
But I have the sudden sense he’s lying to me.
I don’t know why my dad would lie. If he’d tell me about Gen’s dad, why not tell me about any others?
All I know is I’m pretty sure he did.
—
That night, alone in my room, after Davy gets home, I think about everything I’ve learned.
What if my mom didn’t just run away?
What if Mrs. Rodriguez killed her?
Or—what if it was one of the other men my dad didn’t tell me about?
And then, what if one of them came after Fiona, too?
I think about Ramsay and Carter again. I don’t want to go to the cops. But as far as I know, they’re still looking in all the wrong places.
I look down at my secret phone. Before even fully deciding to, I’m calling Seth.
He picks up on the first ring. “Hi.”
“Hi.”