Page 55 of Rebound

Despite the late hour, I’m not ready to fall asleep yet. Having her in my bed and feeling her soft body next to mine is a feeling I can’t explain. Needing to feed this connection, I say, “Did you get those days off so we can go to California.”

“Oh my God, yes,” she exclaims in the dark room.

“What do you want to do while we’re in LA? I’ll be busy for two days, but we’ll have three to do whatever you want.”

Layla inhales, gets on her elbow, and looks down at me. A piece of her hair falls over her face, and I tuck it behind her ear. Her breasts graze my chest, and it sends vibrations down to my dick. It’s after one in the morning, and we’ve fucked twice, but the best part is the post fuck talking.

“I want to go to the beach, and I want to drive down to San Diego. I’ve always wanted to go,” she says. “And eat at the best restaurants.” She lies back down and sighs. “But I want to go see Gaga before we leave.”

“Done,” I say, happy that I can give this to her.

“I have a question for you,” she says. I let out a yawn as I wait to hear the question. “Have you considered seeing your own therapist about your dad?” My eyes pop open at the question. No one has ever asked me that before other than Coach. At the time when I unloaded some of this on him, he was my coach,and he always kept things professional. I was lucky he didn’t tell me to shut the fuck up and kick me out of his house that day I just showed up there.

Instead of telling me to fuck off, he talked me down and told me that having a child is not the end of the world and that I had it in me to be a decent parent. At the time, I could never anticipate that I’d be the sole caregiver to my daughter, but I had no choice when her mother died so tragically. There was no way I was going to let her grandparents raise her. I only met her grandmother, but she made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, so I took my daughter and took charge of her life.

“Hello?” Layla says after a few minutes.

“Oh, lord,” I say and roll my eyes in the dark room. “Can we not talk about him anymore?”

“Rude,” she hisses.

“I’m not trying to be. He just makes me want to pull out all my hair sometimes. And I tried therapy. I’ll tell you about it another time but suffice to say it was a waste of time for me.”

Thankfully she doesn’t say another word, and after a few minutes, I hear her even breathing. Relieved not to have to talk about my dad or therapy anymore for the moment, I turn on my side and close my eyes.

I don’t know which is worse. Leaving my dad this morning as he cried and begged me to come back soon or the scene in front of me right now. Dad cried so much that it made Jasmine cry. She clung to him, which only made him cry harder. When I managed to pull her from his arms, she reached back for him. As we walked to the door, she told him to come, which broughtmore tears to his eyes. He only calmed down when I promised we’d be back for a weekend in the next month. I told him not to push it when he asked if we could come sooner.

Since Jasmine had been saying Johnny’s name since we returned from upstate a day ago, I drop her off at the Chastains for a playdate. Afterward, my driver takes us to the hospital to visit Gaga. Based on how she is today, I’m happy I didn’t bring my daughter here.

“How about some of these carrots?” Layla says. “You love carrots.”

That might be true, but I don’t get how anyone can eat these tasteless things. Layla cuts a piece with the plastic fork and puts it to Gaga’s mouth. She lifts her hand and smacks it away. She hits it so hard that the fork bounces back and hits Layla in the cheek.

“Shit,” I mutter. I sprint across the room, pull Layla from the chair, and move her as far away from her grandmother as possible.

She hisses when I rub my thumb on the red mark on her face. “Ouch,” she moans.

“It’s just a scratch,” I tell her. “It will be okay.”

“Stella, I keep telling you to stay away from those boys.” Gaga points at me and says, “He looks like trouble.”

“Gaga, I’m Layla. Stella is my mother.” I moisten a paper towel and dab Layla’s cheek.

“Why are you home so late from school?” Gaga asks.

“We’re at the hospital, Gaga.” Layla sighs and curses under her breath in frustration.

“I know where I am,” Gaga says. “Stella, go tell your father it’s time for dinner.”

“Gaga, I’m not—” I put a fingerto her lips.

She looks up at me with surprise. “Don’t disagree with her. It will only agitate her. Just go with it,” I whisper.

There’s a loud crash on the floor. Gaga has tossed her tray of food away. She’s still in her chair, but she’s scowling at us. “I said go tell your father dinner is ready,” she repeats.

I look into Layla’s eyes and nod slowly at her.

“Okay,” she says. “Let me clean this up before I call him. You know how he likes a clean house.”

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