“I know.”
She pushed past him for the living room. He followed. She said very little for the rest of the day. She mostly stared off. He scratched everything off his to-do list and focused on mending her heart, assuaging her fear. He knew it was only temporary—her meltdown. He couldn’t shake the idea that it was all his fault.
I should have left her alone, he thought. She would still have a relationship with her parents if I’d only left her alone. But how? How could he? He knew he was selfish. He knew he’d complicate her life. And he didn’t have the power to stop himself. No, that’s not entirely right. He didn’t want to stop himself.
He cradled her in his lap that evening while they watched a movie. It was a comedy, and it worked to erase the tension in her muscles. He felt her body sink into him—pliable, soft, and yielding—and he knew she’d be better in the morning.
And she was.
***
“So what do you think?” Mark asked. He walked around the back of the car where Cadence stood.
“What do I think? I think you’re not buying me a car. That’s what I think,” Cadence replied.
The car owner raised his eyebrows at that. Mark didn’t want him to think they were wasting his time, so he shook his head, silently communicating, “Don’t listen to her,” and the man nodded. Mark wished at the moment he didn’t bring Cadence.
“You need a car,” he said. “You have a job. You’re gonna be starting school in a few months.”
“I cannot allow you to buy me a car. It’s a balance of power thing,” she replied.
The owner smirked.
“Will you give us a minute?” Mark asked him. He nodded and walked away. “Balance of power thing?”
“Yeah. You buy me stuff, you have the upper hand. Power over me.”
“Cadence, no one in the world has power over you. I’ve already learned that. And my buying you a car has nothing to do with power anyway. It’s practical. No, not even that. It’s a necessity. We can’t share a car.”
Cadence was quiet for a moment.
“How are you paying for this?”
“Money.”
She gave him an exasperated look. “Money from where?”
“My bank account.”
“That money is for your doctoral program.”
“Yes. And a car for you. So now listen. I know it needs a new paint job. It’s a little dinged up here and there, but I’ve picked apart that engine, and it’s sound. Really sound.” He leaned in and whispered to her, “This guy is selling it for way cheaper than what it’s worth.”
Cadence listened to his reasoning and nodded.
“It’s a great deal. And it’d be foolish for us not to get it.”
She nodded again.
“Are you telling me that I can buy you this car?”
She nodded for a third time.
“Use your words, Cadence.”
Her head snapped up, and she looked at him oddly.
“What? It was supposed to be a joke,” Mark said, confused.
“No, I was just thinking about the auto shop . . .” Her voice trailed off, remembering. Her confession to Avery. And Avery’s promise.
“Cadence?”
“Avery said that to me a long time ago. ‘Use your words.’ You just reminded me. That’s all.” She walked to the driver’s side door and opened it. She stuck her head in, looked around, then stood up and turned to Mark. “Let’s do it.”
It took a few miles for Cadence to get used to the clutch in her new, worn car. She’d been driving Mark’s Volkswagen to school and had gotten comfortable with that clutch. Now she thought she was learning to drive all over again, stalling at two lights and inviting the obnoxious sounds of blaring horns. Since when did East Cobb become Bitch Central?
“You need some practice,” Mark said, when they were safely home.
“Tell me about,” Cadence replied, shutting the car door.
They walked together to their apartment.
“I wanna pay you back,” Cadence said. “It’ll take a really long time, but I wanna do it.”
“You’re not indebted to me. And I don’t want you to pay me back. I want you to save your money.”
She opened her mouth to object.
“That would make me happy,” he added. He smiled at her.
“You’ll take it away if you get mad at me,” Cadence whispered.
Mark’s jaw dropped. “What?”
Cadence shook her head and mumbled, “Never mind.”
“I’m not your father,” he said carefully.
“I know.”
“This isn’t that kind of relationship. I don’t give you things with a condition attached to them.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
She didn’t know. She didn’t believe a word of it. Her father scared her into thinking that everything was conditional: gifts, time, love. She was wary, even of Mark’s intentions. She blamed it on a damaged heart. She didn’t trust anyone.
“I believe you,” she lied. She looked him in the eyes to appear convincing.
“Nothing in this relationship is conditional,” Mark explained. “Ever.”
“May I still pay you back?”
“No.”