Page 22 of I Could Never

“We could write something down every minute of every day and not make a dent in those notepads. I thought about clearing them out to make room in the drawer, but I don’t want to just throw them away. Wayne obviously earned those. So we should use them.”

“I guess, yeah,” I said, tossing it back in the drawer.

She sighed as she stood up and brought her plate over to the sink. “How was the visit with your brother earlier? I never asked.”

“Good. It was nice to see him. It’d been a while.”

“He has kids, right?”

“He and his wife have a girl and a boy. Maya is eleven, and Max is nine. They were in school, so I haven’t seen them since I got back.”

“You said you have another brother?”

“Yeah. He’s single and also lives in town, not far from my dad.”

“Your dad lives alone?”

“Yup.”

I got the feeling she was itching for me to say more about my family—namely what happened with my mother. But I was in no mood to get into it. So I changed the subject by turning the tables on her.

“What about your family? Where are they?”

“It’s just my mother. She lives in Oregon with my stepfather.”

“No siblings?”

“No.”

“Whereabouts in Oregon?”

“Bend. That’s where I grew up.”

“Isn’t that where the last Blockbuster video store was located?”

“Yup.” She laughed. “Very good.”

“What about your dad?”

Carly hesitated a moment. “He left when I was ten. Moved to Arizona. Remarried a widow and basically became a father to her kids instead.”

Wow.

I swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve gotten used to the idea of him not being in my life. Not everyone stays a permanent part of your life, you know? I’ve learned that the hard way, I guess.”

I let her words sink in. “That’s a lesson I’ve also learned. Some losses are much tougher than others, though.” I leaned against the counter, gathering my thoughts. It seemed only fair to open up a little in return. “The other night…I cut our conversation short when you asked me about my mother. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to talk about it because it’s still tough for me.”

She nodded but stayed silent.

“She left our house when I was eleven—moved a couple hours away and I didn’t see her much. Still don’t, really, after all these years.”

Carly’s mouth curved downward. It looked like she felt sorry for me, which I fucking hated. It reminded me of how I’d felt as a child at events where every kid had their mom with them except me. I never wanted people to feel sorry for me, mostly because I never wanted to bring attention to the fact that my mother had chosen not to be in the picture. It would’ve been different if she were dead and had no choice. But to me, there was no greater shame than your parent consciously deciding that life was better without you.

“She just didn’t want to be a mother?” Carly finally asked.

It was even more complicated and messed up than that.