“Um…yes, well…” She shifted again as if to turn away, shifted back, didn’t reach my eyes, and said, “Well, ’bye.”
“’Bye, Rhiannon. Nice to meet you.”
That was when she looked me right in the eyes and I again saw the pain.
That didn’t sit great with me not only because of what might be behind it but because it wasn’t fun seeing she had it.
“Yeah, Amy. Nice to meet you too.”
I forced a smile.
She attempted to force one back but before she succeeded, she turned and hurried down the walk toward her car in the drive.
I watched her, rattled by that encounter, but only for a second before I closed the door, partly so she wouldn’t catch me watching her, mostly because I really needed to get the kids moving.
I dug my phone out of my purse and texted Mickey, Running late. Will text when we’re on our way.
I gave him only that. The news about Rhiannon could wait.
I sent that and I hurried to Aisling’s door.
It had a poster of a band on it and the good news about that was it was not a boy band. In fact, it shared the knowledge she had excellent taste in music.
I knocked, put my hand to the knob and opened it, poking my head in.
I’d never seen her room. The door was always closed.
Now I saw it had been a little girl’s room, all pink and purple and flowery, but that evidence now lay beneath a lot of clutter, a bunch of spent clothes strewn everywhere, a TV with piles of DVD boxes all around, an unmade bed and a liberal coating of more band posters.
However, there was one other poster. A movie poster. A movie poster that, in its aloneness as a movie poster in Aisling’s room rather than it being one of many, concerned me.
The poster was for the River Phoenix, Lili Taylor movie that had come out decades before.
Dogfight.
My eyes swept back, taking in a plethora of makeup and hair stuff on top of her dresser, all of it coated with a visible layer of dust, and I saw her in bed amidst the mussed sheets (as well as discarded clothes), back against the headboard, book in her hands.
Before I could say a word, she told me, “Dad won’t mind.”
I stepped in but not far. “I think he will, blossom. This is a big night for the department and I’m thinking that your dad would never ask you kids to go to a boring town council meeting unless it meant something to him. And anyway, we’re getting dinner after.”
“I can get something to eat here,” she told me.
“You can but my guess is we’re not only going out to dinner after because we’re all together and it’ll be too late to cook anything, but because he’s hoping to have something to celebrate.”
“You and Cill and Dad can do that without me,” she replied.
I took another step further into her room, doing it carefully, but not very successfully, to avoid the layer of clothes covering the floor. “We can, but your dad won’t want us to. He’ll want you there.”
She lifted her chin. “Am—”
Abruptly, I jerked my head to the movie poster. “Have you seen that movie?”
Her eyes darted to the poster, to me, then to my stomach. “Yeah. Own it.”
“An old movie for you to be into,” I prodded.
“Yeah, well, my brother wants to be a fighter pilot because of an even older movie,” she pointed out accurately. “We’re a movie family.”
This could not be denied.
“Something in that movie that speaks to you like Tom Cruise speaks to your brother?” I pushed, but did it on a smile, hoping that would work to get her to open up to me, but doing that not thinking it was a probability.
I was correct.
Her gaze came to mine. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”
It was far from obvious to me.
She said no more.
This was not good.
“What, honey?” I queried. “What does that movie say to a girl like you?”
She looked away.
My phone in my hand chimed.
I looked down at it and saw Mickey’s return text, Got it. See you soon.
I looked back to Ash. “Ash—”
“Here it is! Better?” Cillian asked from behind me.
I twisted and watched as he leaped into the room, landed right on clothes (and didn’t care) and threw his arms out.
His hair was now slicked back like an Italian movie gangster.
“Much better,” I lied.
He looked to his sister. “Right. Let’s go.”
“Not goin’, Cill,” she replied.
He stared at her. “You are.”
“I’m staying,” she told him.
“You’re goin’,” he told her.
“No, I’m not,” she returned.
“Yes, you are,” he shot back then snapped, “This is a big thing for Dad.”
“I’m—” she began.
But I cut her off. “Going. Up, Ash. Now, blossom. We shouldn’t keep your father waiting.”
“But I—”
“Please, honey,” I whispered. “He trusted me to get his kids there and now I’m asking you to please help me do what he asked of me.”
It was a complete gambit, me playing the new-girlfriend-being-tested card. Mickey would never do that to me.
But I was hoping she cared enough about me, me with Mickey, and her dad to think that it was me who wanted to make sure I gave her dad what he wanted and she’d go along.
“All right, whatever,” she mumbled, pushing away from her headboard.