Page 99 of From Nowhere

I keep the details brief. “I saw her this weekend.”

“When do we get to meet her?” Mom asks.

“Good question.” I blow out a long breath. “I’m trying to sort through the pieces of my life to see where they fit. I don’t bring a lot of normalcy to the table, so I don’t know what’s fair to ask of Maren.”

“Maren,” Ruth murmurs. “That’s a lovely name. Is it Danish?”

I chuckle. “I have no clue.”

Ruth’s lips twist. “I believe it is.”

“Did she stay the night?” Mom asks.

I don’t want to answer the question. It’s her polite way of asking if we had sex. Why else would she stay the night?

“Dad!” Lola saves me from answering the question as she runs toward me from the back door, then wraps her arms around my waist.

“Hey, pumpkin. Did you have a fun time?”

“Yes. Oh my gosh, I played with Paxton and Addie. Addie’s grandparents live next door, but Addie lives in California. Can you believe that? I told her my mom used to live there. And when she asked about my face, I told her everything. She thinks my scars look kind of cool. She showed me her stomach. She had some operation, and she has a scar from it. So we’re scar friends.” Lola barely takes a breath.

I try to keep up by constantly nodding, even though her jumping from one thing to another makes it difficult. The biggest takeaway, and the only one that matters, is that she’s happy and had a good time.

“Did you paint my room and put up my lights? Huh? Pretty please tell me that you did!” She makes prayer hands by her face.

“Go get your bag packed. You’ll just have to see what I did or didn’t do.”

“That’s a yes!” She runs down the hallway.

“Please tell me you painted that girl’s room.” Mom laughs.

“I did.”

“You’re a good dad, Oswald. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I push off the sofa and bend over to hug her. “And thanks for letting her stay here.”

“Anytime,” Mom and Ruth say in unison.

“I’m ready,” Lola singsongs, dumping her bag onto the floor to tie her shoes.

“If you’re ever in my neighborhood with ... anyone ...” Mom clears her throat. “Stop by.”

I roll my eyes. “Sure thing.”

Ruth smirks just before Lola hugs my mom, and we head out the door. The whole way home, Lola gives me a play-by-play of her entire weekend. She’s okay.

I don’t know when or how, but she’s going to let go of her trauma, get into a car, and be okay.

As soon as we reach our driveway, she parks her bike, and by park her bike, I mean she lets it fall onto its side in the grass. She abandons her bag on the porch and barrels through the door.

“Don’t worry. I’ll put the bikes away. I’ll get your bag. I’ll close the front door,” I say to myself.

I hear her screams of joy as I reach the door. But before I reach the threshold, a taxi stops on the street. Tia and Amos climb out of it. So, after tossing Lola’s bag into the entry, I head back outside to help them with their luggage.

“It’s just one suitcase. I’ve got it,” Amos says, closing the trunk.

“Did you fix our car?” Tia asks.

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