Call Me Daddy, page 21
part #2 of Cass Adams Series
No, today is a good day, and it’s going to get better. Big things are about to happen in the Adams family. I can feel it.
And I’m ready.
Chapter 26
Cass
When I cook, the kitchen looks like an episode of Hoarders. I pull out everything I need—bowls, pots, pans, food—and put it all together, throwing things in the sink as I go. I’m a decent cook, thanks to Grams, but when it’s all done and everyone is full, cleaning up the mess is more of a job than cooking the meal was. Clay, on the other hand, puts on a Grandma apron, moves smoothly from the refrigerator to the stove, and cleans as he goes. It’s best when he’s in the mood for me to stay out of the way.
When he told me yesterday that he was planning a dinner party tonight, I almost laughed. A dinner party sounds like something Lola would have, where the hired help did the cooking and the cleaning, and all Lola did was eat and drink wine. For us normal folks, I call it early Thanksgiving. But Clay can call it whatever he wants since he’s doing all the work.
“I got this.” He didn’t have to say it twice. He wanted me to take it easy and maybe start coming up with baby names. I don’t see what’s wrong with Peanut.
Lola’s phone has gone to voice mail all day. When I tried to reach Grams, she didn’t seem to want to talk, either. I guess everyone needs her space, but I don’t like to be left out, so I figure a trip to Grams’s while Clay works on dinner is a great idea. It’s already four in the afternoon, and dinner isn’t until seven.
My truck gets through the snow without many problems. Maybe it’s the oversized tires that Roland insisted on putting on it, or maybe it’s just a well-made truck. When I drive it, I always pass a lot of cars in the ditch, but I never end up there myself. This afternoon is no exception.
As I turn the corner to Grams’s house, the first thing I notice is a Harley sitting out front. Although I’ve grown kind of fond of Angus in the past week, I’m not sure I’m too happy about him hanging out with my Grams. He’s nice, and Grams says he’s magical, but who drives a motorcycle in the snow?
They don’t hear me when I walk in, but I hear them. They’re in the back bedroom, the one I grew up in. The door is shut, and they are both laughing. Grams might be old, but she is a woman, and all women have needs, even Grams, I’m sure. So in a way, I’m hoping she’s getting her groove on with Angus, even if they would be the oddest couple in town. I’m afraid to barge in because if they are messing around, well, I won’t be able to unsee that. Instead, I stand in the hallway and yell her name.
She opens the door, and I see Angus standing on a chair. No, that didn’t make it better. At least he’s got his clothes on.
“Cass! I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Obviously. What are you doing?”
“I am going to paint the back room and get rid of all this furniture. Make it more baby friendly.”
Angus jumps off the chair and follows Grams out of the room. “I’m going to do the painting.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because I have something special I want painted on the big wall, and Angus is an artist,” Grams says. “What are you doing here?”
“You’ve been avoiding me all day. So has Lola. I’m wondering why.”
The smile on Grams’s face disappears for a second, then it’s there again. “No one’s been avoiding you. We thought you and Clay needed to be alone, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” I look at Angus, who shrugs. “Where is Lola?”
“She and Richard ran over to Joplin. They’ll be back for dinner.” She isn’t looking right at me as she walks by me in the hall and heads toward the kitchen.
“How’s Clay taking the news?” Angus stands in front of me, smiling that smile of his, but I’m not falling for the diversion.
I follow Grams into the kitchen. “Richard’s here? When did that happen?” I don’t mind the geezer that Lola married, but she didn’t mention he was coming down, and that makes me really wonder what’s up.
Grams busies herself at the sink. “Oh, it was a surprise. He came yesterday to check on everybody. They’re going back tomorrow. Everything’s fine, though.”
I know better. I don’t believe in happily ever after, and everything has worked out too easily. Clay is happy, and he’s having a big family dinner with his new brother, who it seems is okay after all. He’s blowing off his dad, and he seems fine with letting him die. Grams and Angus are planning to paint the back bedroom. I’m feeling strong. And Lola and Richard are in Joplin, spending money, I’m sure. We’re all getting ready for our big dinner tonight as one big, happy family. Everyone is fine.
But I know what that means.
Everything is far from fine.
Chapter 27
Lola
I have a friend, more of an acquaintance, who found out last year that her husband of thirty years has been cheating on her for the past twenty. It came as a total shock to her, and to most of us who knew them for that matter, but once the secret was out, he couldn’t deny it. And he didn’t try. It seems that no matter how well a person thinks she knows someone, she doesn’t ever really know him—whether it’s her husband, her parent, or a man she talks to at the country club each week.
That’s understandable, I guess, since we can’t ever really know what someone else is thinking. But even more surprising to me is that most of us don’t know the one person we spend our entire lives with: ourselves. We can’t decide what we want to do with our lives, can’t always choose a mate that is good for us, and although we say what we would do in a certain circumstance, we react totally differently when put in that situation.
After talking to Freddy Adams on the phone for what seemed like an eternity, Richard and I drove to Joplin to check in to a hotel. I love staying with Grams, but with Richard here, we need more than a small bed. I got the phone call from the hospital this morning, and the first round of blood tests came back a perfect match. No surprise there. Then Richard and I had a long talk, made some more calls, and now we’re back in the car, going to Cass and Clay’s for dinner.
If someone had told me a week ago that I would find out my dad was someone other than I thought and that my real dad needed a liver transplant and was basically an ass, I would have said that my reaction would have been to shake it off and go get my nails done. But that’s not what I did. I volunteered to fly to California, stay for a two-week recovery, and give half of my liver to a rude, uncaring man who I don’t even know.
“We can make it a mini-vacation, stay an extra week and lie on the beach.” Richard is going with me. Of course, he wouldn’t let me do something like this alone. Not that I need supervision, but he knows I will need emotional support.
“Let’s play it by ear. First, I have to get through this dinner and tell everyone what the heck is going on.” I hate being the older sibling. Yesterday, it was Cass and me. Today, there are four of us.
“Remember, you can change your mind. There is no contract. You aren’t locked in to anything.”
“Should I change my mind?”
Richard glances over at me and smiles. “You should do what you feel is right for you. I will be behind you either way.” I reach over and pat him on the knee.
We park next to a Mercedes with Texas plates. “I guess the gang’s all here,” Richard says.
I look in the mirror, reapply my lipstick, and fluff up my hair. Richard watches me with a smile.
I catch his eye. “What?”
“You look sexy with your hair that way. A quickie before this dinner?” Damn, has it been two weeks already?
“No, but your enthusiasm is admirable. And I like the hair too. Very retro.” Very Vera. I put the hair and makeup on this morning as a way to feel a little of what my mother felt. It was an easy way for her to hide, I guess. Maybe she had low self-esteem, and pretending she was Nancy Sinatra was a way for her to feel better about herself. Or maybe she was so far gone that she really thought she was Nancy. It’s something I’ll never know for sure.
Freddy called her Nancy. I called him today and told him I’d made my decision. I had wanted to give him another chance at being kind, but he didn’t want to hear anything that wasn’t about his liver or my mother, nothing about his sons or about me. He just wanted to know how soon I would be there to give him a liver. And he said how much he missed Nancy.
“He loved her, you know.” It’s safe for me to say it in the car with Richard. I imagine that my mother must have felt safe with Freddy, even if he was a jerk. Grams says he wasn’t a jerk to her, though. I guess leaving two kids and a wife for Vera Shatner would have been crazy. So it was easier for her to be Nancy, and he could be her prince. All of it was make-believe, and easier to do in costume.
“I’d say you were right.” He watches the snow on the windshield, in no hurry to get out of the car. Richard is a patient man, a good man.
“I know you’ll be there for me, but Richard, I need to know if you think what I’m planning is crazy. I’m still going to do it, but I need to know.”
He puts his arm around me and pulls me close to him. “Absolutely insane. But you’ve always wanted to take care of everyone, and that’s one of the things I love about you. You realize that giving him part of your liver may or may not keep him alive, but it isn’t going to save him from himself.”
I lean my head against his shoulder. “Maybe it’s not him I’m trying to save.”
He leans down and kisses my forehead. “I know that too.”
Clay opens the front door before we get to the porch. My heart hurts the minute I see him. I doubt the news is going to be much of a shock to Britt; he’s already figured out that his dad had more secrets than the federal government. But Clay feels that everything his father did is a reflection on him. It isn’t. He is going to be a great father, and I know right now that he is happy and proud. I hate to be the one to change all that.
A fire is burning in the fireplace, and the house smells like cinnamon and Lysol. Richard joins Dennis, who is watching a football game on TV. Britt is sitting at the kitchen table, getting his cards read by Grams. I can hear Cass in the kitchen, slamming plates and dishes.
“I hope you’re ready for this,” Clay says as he takes my coat and hangs it in the small closet next to the front door. “We made a lot of food.”
I smile and turn toward the kitchen to help Cass. “Oh, I’m ready.” I hope you are.
Dinner is fantastic—not only the food, but also the conversation. We talked about football, babies, law school, and Christmas. No one talked much about “he who won’t be mentioned,” although he was obviously there, looming in all our minds.
After the plates are cleared and everyone has a piece of spice cake in front of them, I know it’s time. I take a deep breath, but Britt speaks before I can open my mouth.
“Everyone, I have some news.” His eyes dart around the table as if he’s trying to gauge our reactions before he even says anything. Dennis nods.
“My mom called this afternoon. Apparently, someone has stepped forward as a donor. It might be a few weeks, but it’s a match so far.” The only sound is Cass’s fork clinking on the plate as she digs into her spice cake. “I know you all aren’t as excited as I am, but—”
“Oh, honey, that is great to hear.” Grams gives him a reassuring smile then turns to me. I watch for Clay’s reaction. His face is red, and he hasn’t moved.
I take another deep breath. “It’s me,” I hear myself say. “Richard and I leave tomorrow for LA. We’ll be gone for at least three weeks, with all the additional testing and the recovery period. I thought you should know.”
Cass drops her fork, spice cake coming out of her mouth. “No way. Lola, you’ve done some dumb shit, but—” Grams nudges her hard, and she shuts up. Clay is staring off somewhere over our heads and doesn’t say a word.
“Freddy and my mother were close.” I look around at everyone. “Maybe too close, you might say.” Richard nods, and I continue. “They were… I’m a perfect match.”
Cass’s green eyes spark. “You mean…” She stops and looks at Clay, then Britt, then back to me. I nod.
“So I have a sister too?” Britt understands the tension in the room and is trying to hold back his enthusiasm.
“It appears so,” I say. “Sorry.”
“Oh no. I’m thrilled,” he says. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”
I glance quickly around the table. “The transplant team said they can do my tests from there as long as my regular doctor signs off, saying I’m basically healthy. My last physical was three months ago, and he faxed them a copy. So several days of testing, then the surgery by Monday.”
Grams is wringing her napkin. “That’s so fast.”
“Well, he is dying,” I remind her.
“Wait.” Cass puts her hand on Clay’s shoulder, but he doesn’t move. “Clay and I aren’t related though, right?”
“No. Not at all,” Richard says. “You are the oddball of the bunch. Or the normal one, depending on how you frame it.”
I’m concerned that Clay is still completely quiet. “Clay? Say something, please?” I was afraid he would be angry, and although I haven’t seen it for myself, I’m sure he isn’t much fun to tangle with when he is. But his silence is even worse.
“Why? Why are you doing it?” His voice is lower than usual.
“I know all the pain he has caused, but in the end, family needs to count for something. I’m sorry, Clay.” I don’t even know if that is the real reason, but I’m having a hard time explaining it to myself, much less putting it into words for anyone else. I’m not sorry for my decision, but I am sorry that I have hurt Clay.
Clay pounds a fist on the table but still doesn’t raise his voice. “He gave up his right to be called ‘family’ thirty-five years ago. He didn’t even claim you, Lola.”
“That’s not fair. He didn’t even know about Lola.” I love that Richard tries to stick up for me, but now is not the best time.
“Is that what he told you?” Clay asks. “And you believed that lying piece of shit?”
Now this is more what I expected.
“Clay—” Britt starts to speak, but Clay points a finger at him.
“Don’t say a word. I’m trying to keep you separate from him, so don’t make that a hard thing to do.”
But Britt can’t sit there. He has something to say, and I know he’s been holding it in. “So letting him die is justice? Payback of some kind? No, it’s being him. He’ll probably laugh about it and relish how similar you are to him. ‘My boy,’ he’ll say. ‘Just like his old man.’”
Clay stands up and knocks over his chair. He places both hands on the table. “You think coming here and finding someone to donate a liver to the devil will get you back in his good graces? It won’t. He’s using you like he has so many others.”
Dennis stands at the other end of the table. “You’re right. But Britt and Lola deserve to find that out for themselves.” He reaches for Britt’s good hand. “Come on, we may have worn out our welcome.”
Grams is wringing her hands, and her eyes are red. Now I’m pissed. Nobody makes my Grams cry.
“Enough!” And I’m on my feet too. “Look at you. Yelling about something that means nothing. Absolutely nothing. It’s a piece of a liver. It will grow back in a few months.”
“Yeah, well, I wonder if he’ll grow a soul with it.” Clay turns to leave.
Cass puts her hand on his arm to stop him. “We all had parents that made mistakes, big mistakes. Some of them weren’t their faults. Some of them were because they were stupid kids. Okay, maybe because they were assholes. But guess what? We all turned out okay in spite of them.” And that’s how to shut up a room: Cass saying something logical. I want to climb across the table and hug her right then.
I feel my eyes starting to get wet, but the last thing I want to do is ruin my makeup, so I suck it up. “I’m putting my foot down. The bullshit stops with our parents. We are much better than that. We are fine, we have each other, and we have a baby coming—one that is going to be loved and taught how important family is. Sure, we’re a bit odd, but we’re still family.”
Grams wipes her face with a napkin.
“Screw Freddy Adams,” I say. “I don’t care if he lives or dies, but I’m not going to stand around and let him die just because I think it makes up for everything he’s done in some way. My mother died and never had to answer for anything. It was too easy for her. Not fair. No, if he dies, it won’t be because we didn’t show him that we are better than him.” And maybe that’s the best explanation I can give. I am better than my parents, despite them.
Having said my piece, I sit back down in my chair and look at my lap, leaving Clay and Dennis standing at opposite ends of the table. No one speaks for what seems like several minutes.
“Dinner is over.” Clay clears the table then stays in the kitchen while the rest of us say our good-byes.
Cass hugs me and whispers in my ear. “I get it. Don’t worry about Clay; he’ll be fine.” As we walk out the door, my phone rings. It’s an unknown number again. I need a diversion from all of this, so I excuse myself.
“Lola Warner.” I try to keep my voice steady.
“You said you’d help me. Did you mean it?”
At first, I don’t recognize the voice. Then I remember the tall, brown-eyed young girl from the clinic, Hailey.
