Page 91 of Wish I Were Here
“Yes, Victoria.” Dad sighs. “She was angry that Melanie got pregnant at the age of seventeen, especially withmybaby. Even though I was just a kid myself. So—” From thedepths of his pocket, Dad unearths another ball—blue, this time—and starts tossing it into the air. “She wrote me a very generous check.”
“She—” I blink. “How generous?” We never had any money when I was growing up. “How much money could it have been?”
“Enough to put you through college and graduate school.”
That’s not possible. “I got scholarships.”
“You did.” Dad cocks his head. “But for an absolutely brilliant girl, I wondered that you never looked into the Cirque Foundation.”
The music swells around us. From somewhere over my shoulder, I hear Uncle Vito’s booming voice and Lorraine’s buoyant laughter. But my gaze is focused on Dad. “You’re saying Victoria’s money paid for me to go to college, and you never told me?”
“I couldn’t. It would have broken the terms of our agreement.”
I give the bright yellow orb a squeeze over and over, like one of those stress balls people keep on their desks. Dad had money all along, and he’d saved it for me. He’d saved it so I could go on to become a rule-following mathematician.
“And now that we’ve broken the agreement, Victoria wants her money back?” I ask.
“Pretty sure she wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.” Dad lifts one leg high in the air, holds his arms out wide, and wobbles around like he’s about to fall over. Classic clown move.
“How would we possibly pay her anyway? In juggling clubs?”
“Hey!” Dad presses a hand to his heart like I’ve wounded him. “Those clubs have real value.”
“Sentimental value, maybe.”
“Sentimental value is all I care about.” He shrugs. “But no, she doesn’t expect her money back. She wanted Melanie to tell me that we wouldn’t be getting any more.”
My mouth drops open. It’s loud in here, but I’m pretty sure he said—“More?”
“She was going to write another check on your thirtieth birthday. That’s why I couldn’t tell you how to find her. Not until you turned thirty.” His shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, Kitty Cat. I know how you worry, and I hoped that money would finally give you the security you always needed.” Dad shoves his hands in his overalls, produces an orange ball this time, and starts passing it back and forth with the blue.
He can’tnotbe juggling. It’s just who he is.
“Can I ask you something, Dad?”
“Sure thing, Kitty Cat.”
“Did you give up your dreams to raise me? You really could have gone into the circus, but you were stuck with a kid.”
Dad lets both balls drop into his hands. “I didn’t give up a single thing. You were the best thing to ever happen to me.”
But I know he did. I see how much he loves performing. How the jobs I’ve been pushing him to take at the grocery store and the fast-food restaurants slowly wear away at his spirit. He could have used Melanie’s money to fund his own career aspirations. Instead, he saved it for me.
I grab his arm. “Dad. I don’t need my apartment at the DeGreco. I can move back in with you to save money and to support you to pursue your clown dreams full-time.”
“Nah.” Dad waves me off. “It’s time you stopped worrying about me altogether. Besides, Vito hooked me up. Turns out he owns a bunch of nightclubs, and he needs regular performers to open for the national acts. He’s booked me and the girls”—Dad nods at the burlesque troupe—“five nights a week.”
I can’t believe Vito came through for me again.
But that’s the Morellis for you.
I gaze around the room at all the people who’ve come together to support the community center. To combat loneliness and make sure everyone has a place to go. I don’t need my estranged grandmother’s money for security, not when I havethis. This community of people who care about each other.
And who care aboutme, who stepped up to help me when I needed it most. The aerial troupe is in front of the stage, testing out the silks that Uncle Vito’s guys secured from the ceiling. The burlesque dancers are warming up in the back of the room. I can hear the belly dancers’ tassels jingling. All of these people showed up because I needed them. My gaze slides to Mrs. Goodwin, and Fabrizio, and the book club. To all the people who jumped in to offer advice, or a pair of pants, or their help in breaking and entering. What would I have done without them?
I wish there were a way to thank them. But I have no idea how to say what’s in my heart.
At that moment, Mrs. Goodwin climbs the stage and steps up to the microphone. “Ahem.” The speaker gives a highpeal of feedback, and Mrs. Goodwin leans back slightly. “Testing? Testing? Okay.” She looks out at the crowd and spreads her arms wide. “I hope you all made sure to try some of Vito’s tasty wine during the intermission. And remember that you can place your silent bids on all our wonderful auction items laid out in the game room.” She clears her throat. “And now, we’re going to resume the entertainment portion of the evening with a very special treat.”
