Page 78 of Good Half Gone

“A girl,” she says.

I wait until she’s back inside before driving away, thinking of Cal, thinking of my sister, thinking of Poley’s daughter, who for the time being is snug and safe in her belly. Poley and I had seen each other grow up in a fucked up way. Every year on Cal’s birthday (which we don’t know the exact day of),she’s sent him a card with an Amazon gift card for forty dollars. It’s been nice.

I play Lana Del Rey on my drive back for old times’ sake. I am sleeping with a therapist now. That counts as seeing one, doesn’t it? As I turn onto Gran’s street, a text from Leo pops up.

Miss you. I’m sorry.

“Everything’s fine,” I say, shoving my phone in my bag and getting out of the car. “I have this under control.”

This is me finishing what I’ve started. I’d gotten distracted, but I am back on track—things are back on track. My only regret so far happened in a moment of weakness. I should never have gone to Leo about this. Anything that happens to Jude moving forward can be tied back to me. I can’t make my next move until I have confirmation of Cal’s parentage.

Chapter24

My Sleep Isriddled with bad dreams and cold sweats. Sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night, it takes a minute to remember if I’m in my bedroom at Gran’s or in a HOTI bunkbed.

On the news a new kid goes missing, a little one with dark, wispy hair and dinosaur shorts; Elizabeth Holmes shows up to court pregnant; tornados ravage the Midwest. People die all the time, they disappear all the time. If you’re lucky and if the story is interesting enough, a podcaster will pick up the case. Enough people interested in a case means pressure on the police by the public, and I have a special folder in my email for those inquiries.

But as soon as I found out where Jude was, I wasn’t interested in doing interviews or talking about the case. I had my answers about who killed Piper. My twin is in the ground. Sometimes, when I’m holding something that belonged to her, the smell of wet dirt will creep into the room. I smell it like she’s trying to tell me something.

Gran’s face looks worried even when she’s sleeping. Cal’s looks older when he’s awake. It makes me depressed.

I wake up the next morning to snow so thick the city is forced to shut down: no cars, no buses, no ferries. Everyone is trapped behind walls of snow, the emerald city painted white. Not accustomed to the snowfall, the city has too few snowplows, and I try not to think about the people trapped on Shoal Island—none of whom would be leaving to go home today as planned. They’ll be on shift until we show up to relieve them. I play in the snow with Cal during the day. We eat peanut butter and jelly for every meal—on crackers, on toast, on celery sticks, which is kind of gross. The neighbors bring us food—paella in a big blue bowl covered in foil from the young married couple on the corner who cook for fun, breakfast for dinner from Mary-Ann and her husband. On the second day of the snow-in, Gran’s boyfriend comes over to make us fettuccini alfredo and Caesar salad. He putsAndy Griffithon the living room TV while he cooks. Cal gets into it while Gran snoozes in her chair. When dinner is ready, Gran eats a little of it but makes disgusted faces when he’s not looking. She’s eating to be polite, but she hates bottled alfredo sauce. She thinks it tastes like deodorant.

Six days after our argument, I go back to work—we all do. The snow sits in dirty mounds all over the city. White fluff turned sooty and shit-stained. I see him get on the ferry behind me, just a flash of his unruly hair and gray jacket. It makes my chest hurt to be so close to him and so far.

On the water taxi he sits across from me and stares, so I stare back. When we get to the island, everyone who was stranded during the snow is waiting at the dock. They whoop, high-fiving us as we walk by. As soon as I walk through the doors of HOTI, I get a text from Leo asking if he can talk to me. I get a knot in my stomach. I read the text again, convinced I’m going to get fired. Not only did I sleep with my boss, I also admitted that I’d lied to get the job and told him I was trying to get to his patient for personal reasons.

At one o’clock, he meets me at D to let me in, and we walk past the six solitary rooms.

My jaw drops open when I see that Leo has set up a picnic on his desk. He beams when I ooh and ahh over the little details. He made sandwiches and brought a bottle of wine. For dessert there are oatmeal raisin cookies—which is something Gran would eat. He doesn’t look amused when I tell him this.

“What’s Cal like?” he asks.

“He’s serious and thoughtful. He asks big questions, ones I don’t feel qualified to answer. He wants to be a priest and live at the Vatican.”

“Wow.” Leo’s head jerks, and his eyes open wide. “A priest? That’s very specific. You’ll be mother of a priest. How does that make you feel?”

“Not as much as it’s making you feel,” I tease. “I’m taking it you’ve never had sex with a priest’s mother?”

“Listen,” he says suddenly. “I’ve been thinking about what you said… I’m willing to run a blood test…on Jude. To see if he’s Cal’s father.”

I leap up from where I’m sitting and throw my arms around him. “Thank you,” I say into his neck. I still hadn’t heard from Poley. This could speed things along for me.

I feel warm and happy, the human equivalent of a chocolate chip cookie. Making him have any type of reaction is rewarding.

“You got me. I have very religious family members, so my perception has been skewed. Does Cal enjoy Average Joe things like fishing and going to the movies?”

“He does.”

“Well…I’m Average Joe.” He offers me his hand as if to shake, and I bat it away, laughing.

“It’s true.” He grabs me around the waist and pulls me to him.My arms automatically circle around his waist as I tilt my head up to look at him. This is all very cozy for how new things are. We play with each other’s body language, and very well—this feels like we are playing house.

Ride the wave, Iris, ride the wave…

A week later, he takes Cal and me to a Christmas tree farm. After buying us cider and kettle corn, he marches us through the farm in muddy boots until Cal chooses his tree. Cal says a little prayer for it before he gives Leo permission to chop it down. I can see the amusement on Leo’s face as he bows his head and closes his eyes. My little priest makes the sign of the cross. Then Leo positions the axe on his shoulder and poses like Gaston, showing off his muscles. Cal’s response is to stand nearby and list off the types of Christmas trees as Leo wields the axe.

Douglas fir…chop… Noble fir…chop… Balsam fir…chop…

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