Chapter 7
Dad and Vanessa separated in July.
He told me after they had agreed on the practical details. She and Mia would remain at Vanessa’s sister’s place while Vanessa found an apartment. Dad would keep our house for now.
I felt relief before I felt anything else.
Then I felt guilty about the relief.
Dad saw it when I went quiet.
“You don’t have to mourn my marriage for me,” he said.
“I don’t want you to be lonely.”
“I won’t be alone. You’re here until college. Grandma calls me every morning. And I can make friends who don’t need a spare bedroom.”
I laughed. He looked pleased to hear it.
We spent weekends getting ready for move-in day. We bought sheets, towels, a desk lamp, and too many storage bins because Grandma kept finding things I might need.
One Saturday, while sorting my closet, I found the bag of pale blue silk.
I sat on the floor with it in my lap.
Dad appeared at the door. “Do you want me to take that away?”
“I don’t know.”
He sat beside me. I pulled out the skirt. It still carried a few marks from where I had gripped it on graduation morning.
“I loved this dress,” I said.
“I know.”
“I hate that looking at it makes me think of Mia.”
Dad looked at the fabric. “We could ask someone whether any of it can be used.”
“For what?”
“That would be your choice.”
I thought of the little sewing shop near the bakery. Its owner, Ms. Evelyn, had hemmed the dress when I bought it. She knew how proud I had been.
On Monday, I took the pieces to her.
She spread them across a table without saying the damage was too bad. She showed me a section of the skirt that had escaped the scissors. It was large enough for a lining inside a small pouch.
“I could make something for your college things,” she said. “It won’t be the dress.”
“I know.”
“What would you like to carry in it?”
I thought about my pens, my student card, or Mom’s silver belt.
“Letters,” I said.
Ms. Evelyn made a pouch with a zipper and a plain cloth outside. When she opened it, pale blue silk lined the inside. I paid her from my bakery tips.
I put Mom’s old photograph and the note Grandma had written on graduation day inside. I could carry them to college without having to see the cuts.
Later that week, Mia’s second payment arrived.
A few minutes afterward, she sent me a message.
I got another job to pay you back faster. I know you don’t want to talk. I’m doing it anyway.
I read it, then put the phone down.
At dinner, I showed Dad. He asked whether I wanted him to answer for me.
“No. She sent it to me.”
I wrote, I received the payment. Please keep sending it as agreed.
Then I stopped. I wasn’t ready to ask about her job or tell her about the grant.
That evening, Vanessa called Dad. Mia wanted to attend a small family dinner before I left for college. Vanessa thought it might give us a chance to talk.
Dad asked me what I wanted.
“I don’t want a dinner where everyone waits for me to forgive her.”
“Then we won’t have one.”
“Grandma’s planning dinner for me next week. Can Mia come for dessert after everyone else leaves?”
Dad considered it. “Only if you still want that next week.”
I told him I did, but I was nervous. I wanted to hear Mia speak without Vanessa answering for her. I also wanted an easy way to end the visit.
Grandma agreed to host it. She promised there would be no speeches.
The day came quickly. Janelle and her parents joined us for dinner. Grandma cooked my favorite meal, and Dad made a cake that leaned to one side. After the guests left, Grandma cleared the table while Dad waited with me on the porch.
Vanessa’s car pulled up. Mia got out alone. Vanessa stayed behind the wheel.
Mia climbed the steps with her hands tucked into her pockets.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
Dad brought three glasses of water outside. He stayed close but didn’t speak for us.
Mia looked at me. “I wrote an apology at the counselor’s office. I think I wrote it because I wanted to come home.”
“I thought so.”
“I meant what I said about being jealous. I also knew I was hurting you.” Her voice shook. “I liked that I could ruin something you cared about. That’s hard to admit.”
I didn’t expect her to say that.
“Why did you send the message to the college?” I asked.
“I wanted you to lose the grant. I told myself you’d get another one.”
“I might not have been able to go.”
“I know now. I should have known then.”
She wiped her cheek. “I’m still paying you back. I don’t expect you to say we’re fine.”
I looked through the porch window at Grandma and Dad’s crooked cake.
“We’re not fine,” I said. “I wanted you to hear that from me.”
Mia nodded. “I did.”
She left after ten minutes. I didn’t hug her.
May you like
When Vanessa’s car turned the corner, I sat on the porch step and cried. Dad sat beside me until I was ready to go in.
I had finally heard Mia admit why she hurt me. It didn’t erase graduation morning. It meant I could stop wondering whether she understood what she had chosen to do.
