Find Me I'm Yours (28 page)

He sounded exactly like Liza. Maybe she was really his daughter and some ABC Family
Switched at Birth
incident had occurred.

“That's easier said than done,” I spouted. “I just want to meet my soul mate. I want this,” I said, motioning around to everything that was my dad's life now. “But it's clearly not gonna happen with this mystery guy.”

“And why not?” my dad asked.

“S.H.A.R.I. and Whitney are the type most men in L.A. want, not me.”

“Well, if that's the case, wouldn't this guy have just gone for that in the first place rather than plan this elaborate hunt? He's obviously looking for more. What kind of person would even follow the hunt to begin with?”

“I guess someone adventurous, who appreciates creativity.”

“You. And?”

“Um… someone who has to use their smarts and wits to figure things out.”

“You. And?”

“Someone who believes in destiny?”

“You?”

I wasn't sure of the answer. I just shrugged. Maybe it was time to lower the gloves from my stance of protection and
really
believe. After all, the curse was broken. Or was never even there to begin with.

He moved in closer to me on the couch. He even smelled like I always thought a father should smell, like pipe tobacco and musk. “I can tell you have a spark, Maggie. Mags. You're a light bulb. Even when things around you may seem dim. Who wouldn't want a girl like that?”

“Oh, dads are supposed to say that.” I think I was blushing. “Especially ones that have been estranged for years.”

“I'm not just saying it. Don't let your roommate or the model get to you. Be stronger. Be brighter.”

Here I was giving in to bullshitty, patriarchal values where a woman's worth is based solely on her looks. I could fight those values to the death, supporting any other girl or woman who felt degraded or less than. But when it came to myself? Not so much.

I felt like I had just woken up from a deep, unconscious slumber.

“You're right.”

And I always have given up on things before seeing them through. Maybe to keep myself from inevitable hurt or failure, ultimately harming myself more by quitting, I thought. “So you think I should finish the hunt?”

“If you don't, won't you always be wondering?”

Dad was totally right again. After all, look at how many years I had been wondering about
him
.

DAY 12—MORNING

Dad and I stayed up talking until 6:00 a.m. and I woke up at 8:00 a.m. feeling like a queen in a king's bed. Well, a
king
bed—for the first time ever in my whole, I might add! And the fluffiest down comforter and pillows in the history of man AND womankind. If Dad and Ella had known I was coming, for sure there would have been freesias and tulips arranged just so on my nightstand.

I could hear excited chatter downstairs, so despite only getting two hours of sleep, I hoisted my weary body out of the magic bed. I took what was, of course, the best shower I had ever taken in my entire life—with citron, honey and coriander body scrub and hibiscus shampoo. And it didn't matter that I hadn't brought a toothbrush. I opened a drawer and there were several unopened new ones, presumably for guests like me. Now I wondered if they had a fresh supply of underwear for overnight visitors. But a little water, scrub, and a blow-dryer did the trick and were all I needed to feel like a new girl.

I could smell pancakes and bacon cooking, and like some cartoon—where the fumes drift under the door and go right into your nostrils and then carry you down the stairs by the nose to the kitchen—I was suddenly there.

“Roxanne, no texting at the table. Phone down,” Ella called out. “Good morning, Maggie,” she said, as she handed me a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. “Did you sleep well?” She hugged me again. Today she smelled like mocha.

“Amazing. That bed…”

“I know. I'm surprised you were able to even get up! Sit there,” she said, pointing to an empty chair.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

My half- sibs and I greeted each other.

“Pass me the pancakes,” Jimmy said to his mother.

“Please,” she added.

“Please what?”

“Please pass me the pancakes.”

“I asked for them first.”

Ella and Roxanne and Jimmy laughed, even though it seemed like a familiar routine they had done a hundred times. If this was what a happy family looked like, I knew more than ever it was exactly what I wanted.

“Let your sister get some first.”

“I already had,” Roxanne answered.

“I mean Maggie.”

Was I gonna lose it again? Weeping into pancakes would not make a good second impression. I focused on my plate. “Thanks.”

And then my dad walked in. He kissed everyone on the forehead, including me. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Hold it together, I chanted silently.

We ate, joked, laughed, teased, and ate more, until my dad announced: “Time to go around the table.”

“I'll start!” Roxanne called out.

“We do this every morning,” Dad explained. “Well, on weekdays. We share one thing we're each excited about doing today. Starts the day off right.”

Wow. I basically start off every day bracing myself for the onslaught of everything wrong that's to come.

Roxanne dove in. “Me and some friends are gonna hang out after school—”

“Some friends and I,” Ella interrupted, correcting her grammar.

“What, you're coming, too?” Roxanne sassed back, carrying on the family shtick. They all laughed. “We're gonna get ice cream.”

“Excellent,” Dad said. “Jimmy?”

“I have a basketball game after school and we're gonna kick the Panthers' asses.”

I was waiting for someone to tell him to watch his language, but apparently ASS was OK. “Me” instead of “I”? Not so much.

Ella chimed in, “Well, then, I'm going to leave work early and come watch you kick their asses!”

Dad was next. “The most exciting thing for me today is having Mags here.”

Ella turned to me and asked, “Can you stay?”

It would have been so easy to snuggle up into the comforting womb of this home and family. But everything Dad said in one night had a lifetime of impact on me.

“I'd love nothing more. You've all been so great to me. But I have to get back to L.A.” I looked at my dad. “There's something important I have to take care of.”

He smiled and nodded. “That's my girl.”

DAY 12—LATE MORNING

It hadn't even occurred to me to charge my phone until I realized I might need it as defense in case I ended up next to another chatty bus rider and didn't feel like fakin' a beat. Once I plugged it in, courtesy of Roxanne's charger, I saw I had nine missed texts and four missed calls.

My Nine Missed Texts

By Mags Marclay

1). Jason letting me know that the kids were fine and he was concerned about me.

2). S.H.A.R.I.—looking for me—where was I?

3). Coco in Florida, saying we needed to talk.

4). Liza checking in to see if we were OK.

5). AT&T reminding me my cell bill was overdue and if not paid within four days, my phone would be turned off.

6). S.H.A.R.I.—worried that I've not been home. And where are the dogs?

7). Mark checking in, hoping I'm having fun with my mom (yeah, right).

8). S.H.A.R.I.—“I called your work and they said you're no longer there. Now I'm really getting worried.”

9). S.H.A.R.I.—“OK, Jason told me you went out of town and the dogs are with him. When are you coming home?”

If the Faketress was really freaking out and worried, it was about time she felt some anguish (if she was even capable!) Not that I wish pain on anyone. Well, maybe no one EXCEPT HER. And just a tiny little bit. So I decided to let her worry some more, and ignored her texts.

My Four Missed Calls

By Mags Marclay

1). Mom apologizing.

2). Mom apologizing.

3). Mom apologizing.

4). Mom apologizing.

Dad walked into the guest room. He had called in sick to work so we could spend more time together and he could take me to the bus.

“What do I even do about Mom?” I asked him. “I'm so damn pissed at her.”

“You can be mad at us both for not telling you the truth, but please don't be mad at her for cheating on me. It all worked out perfectly like it should. I couldn't be happier with Ella, and now that you and I have reconnected…” He sat on the bed next to me. “There's just one thing left.”

I knew what he was talking about, as I was thinking the exact same thing. “We might be able to catch him at lunch.” With my phone still plugged into the wall, I hit FaceTime.

“Yo, Sis.” And there he was. Cooper, sitting in his loud, crazy school cafeteria.

“Yo, Bro. Can you go out into the hall for a sec? I have something important to tell you. Need you to focus.”

“OK.” The picture started weaving and freezing as he walked out. Then it stopped, in quiet. His adolescent face was filling the screen. “What up?”

I just had to launch in. “Nothing went down the way we thought. It's a long story I'll tell you all later. But right now I want you to talk to someone. I'm here with Dad.”

I handed our dad the phone.

“Hey, Cooper.”

“Oh, uh, hi.” My brother was clearly taken aback, having only seen pics of our dad, since he was too young to remember what he looked like otherwise.

“Wow, you're all grown-up.” Dad's eyes were filling with tears. “I missed everything. I've missed
you
.”

Cooper didn't know what to do with that. We had totally ambushed him. He just said, “Oh.”

“Your sister and I have spent some wonderful time together. I hope we can do the same soon.”

Again, Cooper just said, “Oh.”

“I can come to New York or you can come here.”

“Come to San Francisco,” I shouted. “You'll never want to leave.”

“I know this is weird and we've taken you by surprise,” my dad said. “Would you mind if I call you again some time?”

“Uh, OK.”

I took the phone back. “Sorry to freak you out with no warning, Bro. Call you when I'm back in L.A.”

“Yeah.”

And I hung up. “He's going through a really rough time,” I said. “If you're serious about wanting to connect, he could probably use a dad right now.”

“Absolutely.”

We were both kind of quiet as Dad drove me to the bus station. We had talked so long and hard all night, we were spent. As we cruised down Valencia something caught my eye. Street art. Everywhere.

On trucks:

And on apartment buildings:

“Wow, this is awesome,” I exclaimed, with my newfound appreciation.

“Well, if you dig this kind of thing, wait till you see
this
.” He drove a block farther and then parked by an alley. We got out of the car.

“This is one of the most well-known spots for street art in San Francisco. It's called Clarion Alley.”

We were sandwiched between two walls covered in exquisite artistry: