The Dirty Truth

Our waitress delivers our drinks, grabs our orders, and shuffles over to the table behind us.

“Just be glad you’re too normal for him.” Lexi pinches her straw between her thumb and forefinger before taking a generous sip. “God forbid he subjects himself to a real relationship with a real person. Would just about kill him, I bet.” She takes another sip. “But it’s ironic, isn’t it? West desperately needs someone to bring him back down to earth. He’s forgotten his roots. That’s his problem.”

I soak in Lexi’s words, taking mental notes and rearranging everything in my mind to fit the context.

“You seem pretty passionate about West’s dating life.” I rip a packet of sugar and dump it into my coffee before reaching for a creamer pod.

“He’s family.” Lexi shrugs. “Family always has a lot of opinions about family.”

I sniff a laugh, thinking of my mother and sisters. “Amen.”

“It’s just been interesting, watching this small-town nobody become . . .” Squinting, Lexi pauses. “You know, he wasn’t always like this.”

“What was he like before?” I stir in my creamer until my coffee turns a milky-cappuccino shade.

“West was always a little different than the rest of us,” Lexi says. “Quiet but observant. Big dreams. God complex. Was always wanting more and better for himself. And for Will, too, but that’s a whole ’nother story. Guess it’s nice that West made it out of here. But it’d be nice if he wouldn’t pretend we didn’t exist.”

“Mama, that’s not true,” Scarlett pipes up. “He bought us a house and a car.”

Lexi huffs. “Yeah. But would it have killed him to pick up the phone once in a while? To visit when he wasn’t here for a funeral? Maybe things would’ve been different. I dunno.”

She takes another pull of Diet Mountain Dew.

“Just seems like he abandoned us,” Lexi says, voice low. “Kind of seems like it’s the Maxwell way. All the men in that family just . . . sooner or later . . . poof . . . gone.”

Scarlett’s hands rest folded in her lap, her gaze fixed on her untouched orange juice. I don’t know anything about West’s father, but I don’t think it’s fair to say Will abandoned them just because he died. West, on the other hand . . . I’m sure there’s more to it than any of us realize. He’s nothing if not a complicated and layered man.

“It’s never too late,” I say, “to change things. I recently quit my job. I know it’s not the same thing, but sometimes you have to do something drastic in order to be the person you were always meant to become.”

“I guess . . .” Lexi perks up when our food arrives, elbowing Scarlett as they eye her chocolate-chip pancakes.

As soon as we finish our breakfast, I excuse myself to call my mother, whose call I missed a few minutes ago. Leaning against an exterior window, I fill my mom in on the latest before listening to her vent about the caterer for a hot minute. Peeking in, I watch Lexi and Scarlett; I never realized how much joy and sadness a person could hold on their face at the same time.

Deep down, I’m sure Lexi wishes she could be the mother Scarlett needs.

And deeper beyond that, I know Scarlett’s love for her mother is unconditional.

It’s a tragic, beautiful bond.

I finish up with Mom and shoot West a text before heading in.

ME: Finishing breakfast with Lexi.

WEST: Glad she showed up.

ME: Same.

ME: Our girl needed this. So much.

I settle back into the booth just as Lexi is sliding her purse over her shoulder.

“Taking off already?” I ask.

Scarlett pouts.

“I have to pick Jared up from work. He’s on nights.” Lexi pouts back to her daughter before slipping her arm around her shoulders. “Cheer up, kid. I’ll come out and see you next time, okay? I’ve always wanted to see New York City.”

I smile at the empty promise, praying Scarlett doesn’t hold her breath.

“That’d be wonderful,” I say. “You should definitely come visit. We’ll give you the grand tour. Scarlett’s quickly learning her way around the city. I’m sure she’d love to show you some of her favorite places.”

I paint an enjoyable picture for Lexi in hopes that it makes a trip out east that much more appealing. It should be enough to want to visit her daughter’s new home, but Lexi isn’t a typical mother. I suspect there has to be something else in it for her—like a grand tour as a guest of honor. Either way, I have no problem pushing Lexi to visit. I’ll be as relentless as I need to be to make this happen for Scarlett.

Climbing out of the booth, Lexi reaches for her daughter’s hand, giving it a parting squeeze.

“We don’t leave until tomorrow afternoon,” Scarlett says, brows lifted in hope. “Maybe we can see you again before then?”