Speed of Life (27 page)

“I'm not
letting
you,” I say. “You
are
her dad.”

“Well, yeah. You know what I mean.”

He's smiling, but I feel so bad. Sure, he's been around the house a lot, but only on the fringes of Nat's life. By being so ashamed, so self-centered, I've kept him from his daughter for over a year. I really suck. Somehow I have to make it up to him.

Han insists on driving again, so I reluctantly let him. Honestly, I'm so tired, I haven't got any fight left in me. It's getting dark, and we're outside of Medford when a loud whapping sound startles me awake. I hadn't even realized I was sleeping.

“What'd you hit?” I ask.

“Nothing. I swear.”

“Pull over.”

“I am. I'm not stupid.” He eases the Mustang onto the shoulder of the road. I'm out of the car instantly. I have a feeling I know what's up, and sure enough, I'm right. The rear passenger tire's flat.

“I know I didn't hit anything,” Han says, coming around to look.

“It's all right,” I tell him. “Relax. It's just a flat. We probably picked up a nail somewhere. Go turn the hazard lights on and get me the keys.”

“What do we do now?” he asks when he comes back. “We don't have a phone.”

I look at him as if he's nuts. “We change the tire.”

“You know how to do that, right?”

“I'm a
mechanic.
”

“Oh, yeah. Duh. Sorry. I'm kinda tired.”

I've got the trunk open, and I start unloading my crap onto the side of the road. Once I get the cover off the spare, I loosen the hold-downs and lift out the tire. It's pretty heavy, so I say, “Feel free to help me, here.” Han grabs one side of the spare, and we set it on the grass.

“Find me a rock to chock the left back wheel and then maybe light some flares?” I say. “They're in that road safety kit.”

I pop the hubcap off and loosen the lug nuts before jacking up the car. The nuts are impossible to get off once the vehicle is raised. Plus, the car could fall. Then I find the sweet spot for the jack and begin to lift the Mustang. Han is back now, staring at me in the fading light.

“What?” I ask as I lift the flat tire off and roll it to the side.

“It's just . . . I'm impressed, is all.”

“Please tell me you know how to change a tire.”

“No idea.”

I shake my head in disgust. “Seriously, you shouldn't even be able to get a license if you can't change your own tire.” I was already doubting he should have a driver's license anyway, but now I know they should take it away. “You saw what I did?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Okay, so now we're gonna put on the spare. Grab it like this. Got it?”

“Uh-huh.”

We lift the tire together and slide it into place. “And then you put the lug nuts on. You want to tighten them with your fingers while the car's still jacked up. First you do this one, and then the one across from it. In a star pattern.”

I'm still having trouble getting over the idea that Han can't change a tire on his own. What kind of a dad is he gonna be for Nat if he can't teach her the basics? But then I think about all the things he's helped me with: buying the computer, finding all those clothes and the car seat online, and getting a cheap ticket to Reno to bail me out. I'll be there to teach Natalie everything she needs to know about cars.

I watch while he tightens the lug nuts. “Han?”

“Yeah?” he says, concentrating on what he's doing.

“How come you never . . . you know . . . said anything before? I mean, you must've known you were Nat's dad.”

He keeps his eyes on the spare tire. “Uh . . . well, Amber said you didn't want to talk about it.”

“You told Amber?”

“Not exactly . . . but I asked her if she knew who the dad was.”

“Oh.”

It seems like a pretty big deal for him to just drop it because my sister told him I didn't want to talk about it, but who am I to judge?

“What do we do next?” he asks. And for a minute, I think he means about me and him and Nat, but then I realize he's talking about the tire. “We lower the car, tighten up the lug nuts all the way, and we're ready to go.”

“Wow,” he says, letting the jack down. “That's pretty easy.”

I laugh. “Yep.”

In Medford we find an all-night tire place and go in and have the original one plugged. Just like I thought, we'd picked up a nail. At least I didn't have a blowout and have to buy a whole new tire. Still, it was after hours, so it set me back a pretty big chunk of change, considering I could've fixed the tire myself at Jimmy's. But we are still almost three hundred miles from Portland and I don't want to risk driving on the spare that far.

We stock up on burritos and pop before hitting the road again, and I sit back and let Han drive. He wants to prove to me the flat tire wasn't his fault, which is stupid, because I already know that. I could've driven over that nail before he even flew down to meet me. Sometimes you can go a long time with one in your tire and not even know it.

I look out my window at the reflective mile markers as they fly past, trying to use the darkness to block out the one thing I've never had to worry about before today—​Natalie's father coming into the picture and wanting joint custody. It seems like Han would've made his move a long time ago if he wanted that, though.

“I know you said I should take Natalie to Kansas, but did you mean it?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“You're not going to try to take her away from me, are you?”

Han looks over at me for way too long.

“Eyes on the road!”

“Sorry,” he says. “Why would I do that?”

“I don't know . . .”

He reaches out and touches my knee, then squeezes it in what he probably thinks is a reassuring way. Personally, I think he should have both hands on the steering wheel, but I manage to keep my mouth shut.

“You probably could take her,” I say. “I abandoned her.”

“You didn't abandon her. You left her with her aunt and grandparents so you could go to college.”

I'm pretty sure Amber has a different take on that. “Why're you being so nice?”

“Don't take this the wrong way,” he says, “because I'm not
in
love with you, but I do love you. And Natalie, too.”

“If you really love me,” I can't help saying, “you'll put both hands on the steering wheel.”

He laughs and grabs it tightly with two hands. “Better?”

“Much.” We drive in silence for a while. I'm not totally sold on what I'm about to say, but I make the offer anyway. “You could come to Kansas with us.”

Han sighs. “I actually thought about it. But my dad's business is in the shithole right now.” He laughs. “No pun intended.”

“Yeah, right.” I've heard all of Han's plumbing jokes before. He loves them.

“Seriously, though, I need to stick around Portland for a while and help him out,” he says. “But you're coming back, right?”

“In four years.”

“And maybe for visits?”

“Yeah. I hope so.”

I look over at him. The headlights of the oncoming cars swing across his face, lighting up the peach fuzz on his chin. He's a good guy, and for the first time I realize how lucky I really am. “I could put your name on Natalie's birth certificate. Or register it on her records or whatever you do.”

He looks over at me. “I'd love that.”

“Eyes on the road!”

He laughs and makes a big show of bugging out his eyes and staring straight ahead. God. He's right—​I am a control freak.

“Han? I don't want child support. This was my fault​—”

“Crys? We can work that out later, okay?” he says. “I need to concentrate on my driving here.”

I can tell he doesn't want to stress me out by arguing, so I say okay.

At three in the morning, we pull up in front of Han's house.

“Thanks for coming to get me.”

“You and me are in it together, Crystal. For life.”

Whoa. He's right. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

He's got his hand on the door, but he's not getting out. I'm afraid of what he might say, but I make myself stay quiet and wait.

“It's not true about Amber,” he finally tells me.

“What isn't?”

“The reason I didn't ask you about being Nat's dad? It's not because Amber told me not to, I mean she did, but . . . the truth is, I was chickenshit.”

“Oh.” That I can understand.

“I was afraid of my dad finding out. You know what he did to my sister.”

Everyone knew. Brittany was hooking up with an Asian guy and their dad told her to break up with him, but she wouldn't, and so he threw all her stuff out in the yard and changed the locks. She was only fifteen. It's been two years and no one knows where she is anymore.

Han locks his eyes onto mine. “He told me from the time I was ten that if I got a girl pregnant, he'd kick my ass and then throw me out.” I nod. I believe it. “Anyway, I convinced myself that if that happened, I'd never be able to support Natalie, but if I laid low, eventually he'd drink himself to death and I'd get the plumbing business and maybe be able to take care of her.”

“Makes sense to me.”

“I guess. But it's still bullshit. I should've just manned up.”

“I don't know . . . it's hard.” He sits there, his head hanging. “Han?”

“Yeah?”

“We'll figure it out. But not tonight, okay?”

“Sure.” He gives me a quick one-arm hug and gets out of the car. I drive the last little bit to our house on autopilot. Bonehead hears the Mustang and is barking his head off by the time I pull into the driveway.

“Shut that fucking dog up!” Mr. Hendricks yells from his bedroom window, and I laugh, letting out the breath I feel like I've been holding for days. It's good to be home. At least until I look up and see my sister scowling in the open doorway.

Then I'm not so sure.

Amber steps aside to let me in, but before I can say anything, she says, “You have to sleep on the couch.”

“Jeez, Am—”

“I'm not being a bitch. It's because of the fleas.”

“Fleas?” I'm in the living room now, and it's packed full of all the stuff from our bedroom, including Natalie, who's sleeping in her crib. My heart grows a couple of sizes when I spot her—​yeah, exactly like the Grinch's. It's hot in here. The windows are open for once, which helps a little, but there's a faint chemical smell hanging around too.

“Somehow our room got infested,” Amber tells me. “The whole house had to be bombed, but our room's where we put the can. It was the worst.”

That would be my fault. But I'm not stupid enough to mention that it was me who let Bonehead sleep inside those two nights before I left. Obviously no one's noticed I broke the lock open. Maybe tomorrow I'll pretend to undo it to get some air in there.

Amber's already claimed one end of the couch, and I stand over Nat's crib, unable to take my eyes off her. Light from the kitchen spills into the room, shining on her red hair. The need to pick her up is so strong that my arms ache along with my heart, but like they say, you only wake a sleeping baby once because she's cute, and then you learn your lesson: she'll cry for hours. We already learned that lesson a long time ago.

I take my chances and stroke her head, though. All she's wearing is a diaper, and she's kicked off her blankie, so I straighten it. A few tears might stray down my cheeks, but I tell myself it's sweat and wipe my face.

I look over at Amber. I know her well enough to see she's only pretending to be asleep. “Am, I'm sorry. I'm really, really—”

“I can't do this tonight,” she says, keeping her eyes closed. “I have to get up early for work.”

“But I want to say—”

She opens her eyes. “Not now, Crystal. Pick me up at the Glass Slipper at three thirty tomorrow. It can wait.”

“Okay.”

She tosses me a pillow and closes her eyes again. I'm anxious to tell her that I'm taking her advice and going to Kansas with Natalie, but she's turned on her side, her back to me. I realize I'm exhausted too. I head for the bathroom instead of pushing the matter.

When I come back, Amber murmurs, “She missed you.”

I want to let my sister know I'm back now and I won't ever leave Natalie again, but the words are stuck in my throat.

The sound of someone slamming the kitchen door wakes me up. Amber's gone and I'm twisted in a blanket, my body already sweaty from the heat. Mom comes into the living room in her work uniform and takes a hard look at me.

“The prodigal daughter returns, huh?”

“Hey, Mom.”

I sit up and stretch. Natalie's still asleep, which might be some kind of miracle. The clock by the TV says seven thirty. I get up and stand over her crib, looking down at her. I think I wake her through sheer willpower, because she opens her eyes, sees me, smiles, and holds out her arms.

“Kwis! Up!”

I almost die of joy when she says my name. She's been saying “Amba” for a while now but couldn't seem to get mine. My sister must've taught her while I was gone. Now I have to teach her “Mama.” I scoop Natalie up, my baby warm against my chest, and for the first time in five days, my body totally relaxes.

“So are you here for good?” Mom asks.

I snuggle my face into Natalie's soft curls. “Nope. A few weeks. I'm still going to Kansas.”

“And you're here to talk Amber into it?”

I shake my head, smiling. I can't take my eyes off Natalie. “No. Just me and my daughter.” My heart's hammering at the words, but I did it. I said them. “Han's gonna help me work it all out.”