The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue 2)

“That’s it? Hey, how are you?” I keep my voice low. I can see Bell, and it’s enough to remind me that I don’t want to call her attention over here. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I . . .” When she looks up, her eyes are big and watery. “I don’t know. I mean, I

do, but, like, it’s complicated. So, yeah. How are you?”

“I haven’t heard from you in nearly four years.”

“I know.” She rubs her nose. “I know I don’t have any right, but . . . it’s good to see you. I’ve missed you.”

Bell giggles. My steel-encased hard heart becomes a fist. “You can’t be here.”

“I—”

“What do you want? Tell me quick and go.”

“I don’t want anything—”

“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want something. What is it? Money? Christ, Shana.”

She balks. “Money? If I wanted money, I wouldn’t come to you. You never had any.”

I mash my molars together. Two minutes, and we’re already having the same argument. That’s got to be some kind of record. “You’re right,” I say. “I’m broke, so there’s nothing here for you. Move along.”

It’s a lie. Those first few years we had Bell, I invested any extra money I had into the garage, leaving only enough in our bank account to cover Bell’s basics. I’d worked like a dog once I had Bell to take care of, but it meant Shana and I’d had to go without. That hard work has paid off now that the garage is doing enough business to keep us busy around the clock, but Shana wouldn’t know that. Unless, of course, she can sense it, which wouldn’t surprise me.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” she says. “I told myself to stay away. I had no right to come back into your life, but I just can’t help myself. I’m not the girl I used to be.”

“You can stay away,” I say, keeping an eye on Bell, who is, so far, oblivious to what’s happening over here. “You just don’t want to, and you always do what you want. You are the girl you used to be.”

“My parents died, Andrew.”

I whip my head back to her. “What?”

“First, my mom. Breast cancer.” Her voice cracks. “Six months later, my dad started to lose his mind. It happened so fast. One day, he just didn’t know me anymore. I had to put him in a home.”

“He’s alive, though.”

“Yes, but he might as well be dead. He doesn’t remember anything beyond the immediate short term.”

Shana’s parents had her late, but they’re too young to have both gone like that. Ashamedly, for a split second, I wonder if she’s lying, but not even she would stoop that low. They’re strangers to me now, but once they were Bell’s grandparents. “I’m sorry,” I say.

“I called a few times, but—” She swallows. “I didn’t know what to say.” She takes a step toward me and I automatically put my hands up. Her mouth falls open. “My parents are gone—I’m not contagious.”

“No,” I say suddenly. “You don’t get to come here and play the sympathy card. You don’t have the first clue what we’ve been through.” My voice is rising, and a couple of the moms look over at us.

“You keep looking at her,” Shana says fondly. She glances over her shoulder at the girls. “I don’t even think you realize you’re doing it. She’s really beautiful, Andrew. I can’t even believe how big—”

“Don’t—don’t look at her,” I say, panic knotting in my chest. I stand up, towering over her even more than usual since I’m on the third step of the bleachers. “Don’t even look at her.”

She turns back to me. “There’s no need to overreact. I promise, I’m not here to cause trouble.” She snorts. “And you say I’m dramatic.”

I swing an arm between us. “You don’t think this is dramatic? Ambushing me out of the blue in the middle of Bell’s gym class?”

“You didn’t know I was in town?” she asks.

“How the fuck would I?”

“The card I sent home with Bell. I thought you’d see that and understand—”

I take a step down to the first bleacher, and she shrinks. “You talked to Bell when I wasn’t around?”

“I didn’t tell her who I was. I was gently sending you a message that—”

“How fucking dare you.”

“I’m her mother.”

“No you’re not. You’re nothing to her. She doesn’t even know about you. She never asks. Never.”

She gapes at me. “Oh my God, Andrew. That’s so mean. And it’s a lie.”

“No it isn’t,” I say, and almost unbelievably, it’s true. Bell has yet to come to me and ask why all her friends have moms and she doesn’t. “I’m enough for her. Because I’ve taught her to be smart. Independent. That way she’ll never get fucked over again.”

“Andrew—”

Bell looks over at us, tilting her head, and I snap in the most contained way I can manage so I don’t alarm her. I shove my hands in my pockets and school my expression and my tone. “Get out of my face,” I say slowly. “Right now, or I swear to God, if you ever come near her again, I’ll file a restraining order. If you ever come near her again while I’m not around? I’ll make your life a living hell.”

Her nostrils flare. “Jesus. When did you get to be such an asshole? You were always trying to control me, but you were never mean. Not like this.”

She turns and stomps out, making no secret of her discontent. The few moms in the crowd look either at me or her, because fuck this small town, of course they know who she is. They know my situation.

I plaster on a smile and Bell waves emphatically at me. “Watch me,” she yells. She starts her floor routine, then stops abruptly and says “No, wait, watch,” and starts over, even though I have no clue what she did wrong. I grin as my heart pounds right up against my chest. When I’ve lost her attention to tumbling, I scrub my hands over my face.

Fuck shit fuck. For a long time, I wished Shana would come back, just so I could tell her to fuck off. Now, though, I don’t want to do that. I don’t want her here at all. Bell and I have figured it out without her. We have balance. We’re happy. I don’t need revenge. I don’t need to prove anything. I just want Shana to leave us alone.

My head throbs with an avalanche of thoughts. Will she come back? What does she really want? I won’t give her anything. Not money. Not access.

She has some nerve accusing me of being controlling. Anything I ever did, anything anyone does, is a reaction to her. She cares about no one but herself and the rest of us have to cope. I can’t get ahold of my thoughts. I only have half an hour before Bell’s finished and I have to get it together.

I take out my cell phone and dial Sadie’s number. She picks up on the first ring. “Forget something?” she asks since we were just at her place.

“No.” I train my eyes on Bell. Her complete obliviousness is the only thing keeping me sane right now. “Shana just showed up at gymnastics.”

“What?” Sadie asks. “The Shana?”

“Yes of course the Shana. Do you know another one?”

“Oh, she has some massive balls,” Sadie says. “I knew it. We should’ve seen this coming.”

“Yeah?” I agree and then pause. “No. Why?”

“Because she’ll never do better than you and Bell. I just hoped she’d never realize it. What does she want?”

“I don’t know. Money, I hope.”

“Money? Really?”

“It’s better than the alternative.”

Sadie grows quiet as that sinks in. If Shana isn’t here for money, she’s here for Bell. “She can’t,” she says. “She can’t just show up here, and expect . . . anything.” Sadie launches into a rant, and it’s a relief to hear outrage as passionate as my own.

And then I get tired, having slept very little the night before, and my shoulders feel a thousand pounds, as if I’ve been carrying a heavy load and only just realized it. “I gotta go,” I say. “Bell’s almost done.”

“What are you going to tell her?”

“Obviously nothing.”

“I don’t know, Andrew. You can’t protect her forever. She needs to know about Shana. Maybe it’s time—”

“It’s not time,” I say through a thick throat. I am Bell’s parent. Her only parent. There’s no room left for Shana.

“Now is definitely not time.”

“Call me later,” Sadie says with a sigh.

Ten minutes until practice ends, and I’m both weary and amped. I have the sudden urge to talk to Amelia, who will understand how this feels. Not in the fuming-mad way Sadie does, but in the knockout-punch to the gut that Amelia’s experienced. She’s dealing with her own boxing match and maybe, just maybe, hearing each other’s voices will help.

I pull up her number, lean my elbows onto my knees, and let it ring. And ring and ring. I get her voicemail. “Hey,” I say after the beep. “It’s me. Call when you get this. Any time. Even if it’s late.”

I hang up and watch the wind-down of the class until Bell cartwheel-skips back to me.

“Did you see me?” she asks.

“Yes, baby,” I say as she climbs over the seats to me like a monkey. “You were great.”

“You say that every time.”

“Well, you’re great every time.”

She gets on my lap and puts her arms around my neck. “The coach thinks I’m ready to try a backflip next class.”

Moms filter into the gym to pick up their daughters, some waving in our direction. There are no men in here. “Backflip?” I ask, focusing on what she’s saying. “Backflip—really? It’s not too advanced?” I cringe as I say it. I might as well have just dared her to try.

“No,” she says. “It’s not that hard. I could probably do it right now—”

“Not so fast,” I say. “I’ve told you. No gymnastics off the floor.” I don’t even like her doing them at home or in the backyard without a coach’s supervision. I pat her knee. “Get your stuff. Let’s go home.”

“Why were you talking to that lady?” Bell asks. “She’s the teacher who gave me the card.”

I shake my head because my throat is suddenly thick. “No reason.”

“Was it about me?”