know it hurts him not having a mom."
We're jogging now. I have never been a jogger until coming home.
"Maybe it hurts you more." me
"Nah."
"Not gonna lie…it sucks sometimes…but lots of kids don't have moms. Think globally Stover. Lots of kids without moms and they grow up to be good people. Maybe even great people. A good dad…you know that."
We don't say anything for a while, just the dig of our feet on the road, breathing…gasping in my case.
I have to stop. "I…can't…," I am bent over, hands on knees.
"C'mon," he comes back for me, takes my arm and pulls up, and I stand. "We'll walk a while."
I nod, and he lets go, and we both bury our hands in our pouches and continue.
"You didn't deserve it either…Angela."
"We married too quick. Have to admit, didn't see the drugs coming."
"I was pretty young…but I could see how torn up you were."
"I hate that I was so torn up. I don't know why I tried so long. That wasn't good for Juney."
"Wow. You really do feel sorry for Juney don't you?"
"Yeah. Shouldn't I?"
"I just wonder if Dad feels that way for me…sorry? No wonder I got by with so much. I mean…does he think I'm so great or is he just sorry for me? I mean…God, I hope not."
We're quiet for a while. "You're right," he says finally.
"Yeah. Stop doing that to him," I say like I know anything about raising a kid. But I know this. "You can't change the past. You know that, right?"
He laughs a little. "I do."
We're quiet some more, then, "Hey, if life hands you lemons, make lemonade."
I laugh a little too. "You think of that all by yourself?"
"Well…yeah."
"You're like…a guru," I say, and he takes off then. "No," I whisper-call into the night. This is a more deserted part of the road, and he's leaving me? And I can't run anymore. I made pie dough for six pies for crying out loud and that Twinkie is sitting like a brick.
But he's soon back. And I'm opposite side of the road walking toward home. He comes along. "I couldn't stand going that slow. Sorry."
"It must be fabulous to be you," I say. Well, it must be.
"Yeah, the grass is not greener," he says. "He ask you about Chicago?"
I crane my neck to take a look at him. "Smooth."
He shrugs. "Well?"
"We talked about it. No big deal."
"You tell him you're staying here?"
"Am I?" Should I?
He's on the cusp of saying something.
"You read those texts that kept coming since Litchfield? Those texts and phone calls?" I'm not as smooth as he is, but I get it done.
"Hey. You're Artie's whole deal. He worships you." He's not so smooth either. Ignored me again.
"Blind. Blind worship. It's a terrible responsibility sometimes…living up to it."
"He knows. You're not perfect. He loves you."
"Loves me? After what Mom did to him…he hasn't moved on. I…I can't make it up to him. I had to go away, you know? Then he gets Parkinson's."
He laughs a little. "First off…the Parkinson's…really Bedilia? Forget that. The rest…you're talking about me, right? Haven't moved on?"
"So you're trying…with Jessica? Is she it for you?"
I hear the air whoosh out of him. "Bedilia…what can I say that isn't…unfair to her?"
"You let her into your life. That's a first."
"You know why."
"No, I don't. Why her? You said she cuts your hair. Is that it? Cut your hair you…give her a ring?"
He looks sharply at me. "A ring? Where'd you hear that?"
I'm not throwing my source under the bus again.
"I guess…is it this serious?" me
"You asked that already."
"Okay…do you love her?"
"Bedilia."
"What?"
"I'm not saying that. C'mon, pick it up."
"No. I don't want to pick it up. You go on."
"I'm not leaving you here."
"Why not? I left you, didn't I? I went all the way to Chicago!"
"You didn't leave me. What are you talking about?"
"I don't want it to be weird between us…but…I feel like I did leave you…and Juney."
He looks at the sky and closes his eyes and says, "In college you already…."
"It wasn't the same," a mountain is moving in me, no, no, a
We're jogging now. I have never been a jogger until coming home.
"Maybe it hurts you more." me
"Nah."
"Not gonna lie…it sucks sometimes…but lots of kids don't have moms. Think globally Stover. Lots of kids without moms and they grow up to be good people. Maybe even great people. A good dad…you know that."
We don't say anything for a while, just the dig of our feet on the road, breathing…gasping in my case.
I have to stop. "I…can't…," I am bent over, hands on knees.
"C'mon," he comes back for me, takes my arm and pulls up, and I stand. "We'll walk a while."
I nod, and he lets go, and we both bury our hands in our pouches and continue.
"You didn't deserve it either…Angela."
"We married too quick. Have to admit, didn't see the drugs coming."
"I was pretty young…but I could see how torn up you were."
"I hate that I was so torn up. I don't know why I tried so long. That wasn't good for Juney."
"Wow. You really do feel sorry for Juney don't you?"
"Yeah. Shouldn't I?"
"I just wonder if Dad feels that way for me…sorry? No wonder I got by with so much. I mean…does he think I'm so great or is he just sorry for me? I mean…God, I hope not."
We're quiet for a while. "You're right," he says finally.
"Yeah. Stop doing that to him," I say like I know anything about raising a kid. But I know this. "You can't change the past. You know that, right?"
He laughs a little. "I do."
We're quiet some more, then, "Hey, if life hands you lemons, make lemonade."
I laugh a little too. "You think of that all by yourself?"
"Well…yeah."
"You're like…a guru," I say, and he takes off then. "No," I whisper-call into the night. This is a more deserted part of the road, and he's leaving me? And I can't run anymore. I made pie dough for six pies for crying out loud and that Twinkie is sitting like a brick.
But he's soon back. And I'm opposite side of the road walking toward home. He comes along. "I couldn't stand going that slow. Sorry."
"It must be fabulous to be you," I say. Well, it must be.
"Yeah, the grass is not greener," he says. "He ask you about Chicago?"
I crane my neck to take a look at him. "Smooth."
He shrugs. "Well?"
"We talked about it. No big deal."
"You tell him you're staying here?"
"Am I?" Should I?
He's on the cusp of saying something.
"You read those texts that kept coming since Litchfield? Those texts and phone calls?" I'm not as smooth as he is, but I get it done.
"Hey. You're Artie's whole deal. He worships you." He's not so smooth either. Ignored me again.
"Blind. Blind worship. It's a terrible responsibility sometimes…living up to it."
"He knows. You're not perfect. He loves you."
"Loves me? After what Mom did to him…he hasn't moved on. I…I can't make it up to him. I had to go away, you know? Then he gets Parkinson's."
He laughs a little. "First off…the Parkinson's…really Bedilia? Forget that. The rest…you're talking about me, right? Haven't moved on?"
"So you're trying…with Jessica? Is she it for you?"
I hear the air whoosh out of him. "Bedilia…what can I say that isn't…unfair to her?"
"You let her into your life. That's a first."
"You know why."
"No, I don't. Why her? You said she cuts your hair. Is that it? Cut your hair you…give her a ring?"
He looks sharply at me. "A ring? Where'd you hear that?"
I'm not throwing my source under the bus again.
"I guess…is it this serious?" me
"You asked that already."
"Okay…do you love her?"
"Bedilia."
"What?"
"I'm not saying that. C'mon, pick it up."
"No. I don't want to pick it up. You go on."
"I'm not leaving you here."
"Why not? I left you, didn't I? I went all the way to Chicago!"
"You didn't leave me. What are you talking about?"
"I don't want it to be weird between us…but…I feel like I did leave you…and Juney."
He looks at the sky and closes his eyes and says, "In college you already…."
"It wasn't the same," a mountain is moving in me, no, no, a
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