I nudged her with my shoulder. “Of course. You’ve been a huge part of my life for the last several months, and you make one my best friends wicked happy—“
“I know,” she smiled, “but I’ve also never had close girlfriends before. And we didn’t really get off to the best start.”
“The good news is, it doesn’t end where you start, unless you quit. We didn’t quit each other.”
Monica stopped in her tracks and tugged my wrist.
“What?” I asked, studying her serious expression.
“Unless you quit …”
“Yeah?” I drew out, looking around.
Monica shot a look to Georgia before addressing me. “Look, Em … I wasn’t going to bring this up right now, but …” She looked down, biting her lip in an uncharacteristic show of restraint.
“Spit it out, Monica.”
“Don’t quit your dad.” She finally looked up and I immediately wished she’d look away, but she wouldn’t.
My cheeks heated and I felt dizzy. I leaned against a nearby stone wall.
“So you have a sister …” Monica shrugged and sat next to me.
“Half sister,” I corrected.
Georgia rolled her eyes and sat on the other side of me. “Fine. Half sister. There are worse things in life than having extra family.” Her eyes fell along with her shoulders.
“Yeah,” Monica continued, “Willow was the only person from your childhood I ever heard you mention with any frequency while we were in college. You said it was like you were sisters. Turns out you actually are.”
I stood, facing my girlfriends. “I can’t believe you two. My dad lied to me. And not about Santa Clause or the Tooth Fairy. Not only did he lie, but so did my mom and Willow’s par—whatever.”
Georgia stood, not looking one ounce sympathetic. “Right. And you still got to grow up with two loving parents who taught you it was okay, and, in fact, necessary to love hard and all the way to your core or whatever the fuck terminology your mom uses. You’re allowed to feel railroaded, and to ask questions, and feel everything, but, please, don’t you think given how you feel, your dad probably feels it more?”
I threw my head back in defiance. “How could he possibly?”
“Because he’s been living with it for almost thirty years. Every single day. Letting Michael and Solstice raise Willow as their own. Jesus, I’ve only known your dad for like a minute compared to everyone else here, but that man is the most emotional brand of Y-chromosome I’ve come across. How many times do you think he wanted to pick up Willow and swing her around the way he did you? How many times do you think he watched Michael hold her while she cried and a piece of him didn’t fall off of him and shrivel up in the dirt?” Georgia’s chin quivered as she spewed her emotional assessment of my father.
One that was so accurate I had to sit again. I looked to Monica, who’d once again gone quiet, and I found tears in her eyes.
Her voice was soft. Cautious. “She’s … she’s right, Ember.”
Her confirmation pulled me under. Succumbing to the heavy honesty, I let the tears fall. “But they taught me about love … everything I know.”
Monica wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “And now they’ve taught you more. They loved you and Willow enough to give you each your own, unique, awesome families. Your mom loved your dad enough to stand by him when it would have been socially acceptable—if not expected—to leave. Your dad loved Michael enough to give him a daughter, and loved Willow enough as the years went on to leave her with the right family. Her family. And, he gave you yours.”
Georgia shifted to my side. “You know … my dad and I didn’t have nearly the kind of relationship you and your dad do. Still, when he died, I felt like a lost toddler in the middle of a crowded beach. The ocean threatened to swallow me, people were pushing passed me, and even though I had my mom, I’d never felt so alone in my entire life.”
“God,” I put my head in my hands, “I’ve been so awful to him this week.”
Monica kissed the top of my head. “And you know, because he loves you, that it doesn’t matter to him. All that matters is you come home. To his heart. Wanna go do that?” She lifted my chin and gave me a hopeful smile.
A sob-soaked laugh crept from my throat as I stood and wiped under my eyes. My parents had raised me with nothing but love. That they’d engaged in a free-love lifestyle in their past was not a surprise to me. It was part of what led me to forge out a life of certainty for myself. Their choices—the ones I’d agreed and disagreed with—helped make me into the person I am.
My friends were right, though. The messy details and emotions could be sorted out later. The fact was, I was never—and would never—be in their shoes. Who was I to judge the decisions they made? Neither Willow nor I were ever lacking in attention or affection while growing up.
I wiped my tears once more. “Promise to hold my hand on the walk back?”
“Promise.” Monica squeezed my hand.
I swear they sighed in unison. Georgia stood and spoke first, “Yes. Let’s get you freshened up, though. You’re all red and streaky from crying.”