“I know,” I said. “I didn’t know it until recently, but I do now. That’s why I wanted to say all of this. Needed to say it, really.”
Whatever Belén, or my dad, or Tilly, or even Blanche said after this, I felt good that I had gotten it out. Emptied my closet of all the skeletons I had collected over the last two-and-a-half months. I would probably sleep better than I had all summer.
Belén’s face had grown pale and blotchy. Her lips were now pursed into a barely there line, clamped so tight it looked painful. Was she having trouble talking? I grew increasingly uncomfortable for her; it got to the point where I was compelled to speak. Help her out, maybe.
“So, I guess, whatever punishment you think is appropriate, I will take, and I won’t complain. I promise.” I just wanted my dad and Belén to trust me again.
“That’s very mature of you, sweetheart,” my dad said quietly. He and Belén exchanged a lengthy conversation with their eyes the way only married couples can, and then he nodded at her.
“So, what will it be? Scrubbing the floor with a toothbrush? Rinsing my mouth out with soap?” I couldn’t think of much else my stepmother hadn’t tried. She’d have to find a new parenting blog to follow, one with more creative consequences.
Belén’s face went from white to bright red, but she sat up straight, a commanding presence even when flustered. “I think you and I are even, Tatum.”
My jaw dropped. “Really?”
“Really.” The smallest trace of a smile graced her lips. “Though I can’t say I’m pleased to hear about your duplicitous actions while your father was away, it would be a mistake if I didn’t recognize my hand in them.”
Again, really? I looked at my dad to confirm I’d heard her right, and caught him trying to cover up a smile. Well, then.
“Thank you,” I said, stunned. Blanche nudged me harder under the table, as if to tell me she knew this would happen all along.
“You’re welcome. I think this is a good opportunity to start fresh, don’t you?” Belén eyed me.
“Yes. Yes,” I repeated. I had no idea what a fresh start with my stepmother might look like, but I was willing to take the risk if she was.
Before we could break out the hot cocoa and sing kumbaya, my dad suggested we eat the delicious-looking lasagna before it turned ice cold. Everyone laughed then and dug in. Maybe it was the food and maybe it was what had come before it, but nothing I’d eaten in a long, long time had been so satisfying.
Tilly chose to drop her own bomb while we were eating the cannoli Blanche had picked up at a nearby bakery, recommended by her new bunco besties. Belén took the news about Tilly changing her dance focus surprisingly well. And by well, I mean she didn’t throw anything or curse.
“I want to see this online portfolio Tatum has made for you, Matilda,” Belén demanded. There was something comforting in her reliable response, despite me being nervous about what her reaction might be. Not only for Tilly, but for myself. Belén hadn’t seen any of my art in years.
All five of us clicked through the site, then watched the contemporary dance video I’d posted. When it ended, Tilly and I, seated side by side at the dining room table with our parents, waited for the verdict.
“Well, I think the site is beautiful, Tatum. Very professional. I believe that new tablet will be a wise investment.” My dad was not a naive man. He knew better than to comment on Tilly’s dancing.
I beamed. The money I’d earned over the course of the summer was almost double what I needed to pay the commonwealth attorney, so I’d be picking up my gorgeous new device very soon.
“Tatum was amazing,” Tilly offered. “I think TLC is going to be a huge success.”
I beamed at her. “It’s easy when you have good material to work with.” Tilly beamed back.
Blanche was braver than my dad. “I agree. I should hire you to do something for me, Tatum. And I actually prefer this contemporary to your ballet, Matilda. So expressive. We could use more of that in our lives, I think.”
No one spoke for the longest time; the only sound in the room was Belén inhaling and exhaling loudly and deliberately, tapping one red nail on the table. Some things never changed.
“This is what you want, Matilda?” Belén’s voice was firm, but I could see she was trying to be reasonable. She definitely wasn’t angry. Her lip wasn’t quivering this time, but I thought I detected a tear. Hearing how not one daughter but two had defied her under her nose had to be rough. I felt a little bad for her, but was impressed she was taking it so well.
Tilly’s face broke out into a tentative smile. “Yes, Mama. I love it.”
Belén nodded. “Well. Then we will have to do some additional college research.” She rose from the table, ending our family meeting, but then turned back to me. “I also think the website looks professional, Tatum.” To my surprise, she even smiled. I knew she meant it by the crinkles in the corners of her eyes.
And, of course, I smiled back.
Chapter 18
The doorbell rang and sent a jolt of anticipatory electricity down my chest. I stood in front of the full-length mirror one last time, making sure my hair was behaving and that I didn’t have mascara clumps on my cheeks. As I completed my final inspection, I heard the front door open, and my dad called up the stairs.
“Tatum? You have company.”
I smoothed the fabric of my skirt, slid on my silver sandals, and carried myself down to the door. I didn’t want to appear too eager, but everything inside me wanted to bolt down the stairs and launch myself at the person introducing himself to my parents.
As expected, I walked in the living room just as my dad was extending his hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Elsea. I’m Seamus Kipsang.” My dad and my date shook hands, and my dad, clearly pleased with the strength of my cellist’s handshake, smiled.
“That’s a good Irish name, son.”
“Yes sir, my mother is from County Kerry.” He turned to me and grinned, his sea-green eyes glittering. “Hi, Tate. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I said, lashes down.
Belén stood off to the side, arms crossed—she was still Belén, after all—but with a welcoming smile on her face. Seamus raised a hand in greeting to her and she nodded politely, her smile widening.
“Well, we should probably get going,” I said, wanting to go before the magic spell of congeniality currently over my house broke.
“What time should I have her back, sir?” Bonus points for asking about curfew. I wondered what time my dad would say.
“You have your phone, Tatum?” Dad asked. I nodded. “Good, just don’t come in at the crack of dawn. We trust you.” I did my best to resist asking if he was joking, because by the easy smile on his face, I could tell he meant it. And he’d said “we.” Hearing that he and Belén trusted me felt a little bit like a fairy tale.
“Thanks, Dad.” I kissed him on the cheek.