The Fake Out by Sharon M. Peterson

FIFTY-EIGHT

If you were a vegetable,

you’d be a cute-cumber.

—JULIA B.

A numbness spread across my chest as I walked back into the house. Mama, Sue, and Iris were all sitting on the couch, eyes fixed on me with concern. Iris moved over and patted the empty space. I sat, all four of us squished in, no one quite sure what to say.

A sob escaped me. Then another. And instead of asking their questions, they wrapped their arms around me and let me cry.

Afterward, when I’d calmed down enough to speak, I told them everything. All of it. The medical bills. My job at Chicky’s. The deal I’d made with Chris. Dad’s threats. The text message I had just received. I even told them about Ellie after swearing them to secrecy.

When I finished, it was clear I’d stunned them all into silence. Even Iris.

I swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

Mama narrowed her eyes. “Iris, go to my bedroom closet. On the top shelf, under the electric blanket, is a manila envelope. Bring it here.” Iris heard the steel in her voice and scurried to do as asked.

“That man is something else,” Sue muttered, looking as angry as Mama.

“Your father…” Mama growled and took a visible breath. “Get him on the phone and tell him you want to meet with him. Tonight.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” The thought of facing him made me equal parts exhausted and disgusted. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and lick my wounds.

Before she could reply, Iris returned with a thick, oversized envelope and handed it over to Mama.

“Oh, it’s a fantastic idea.” Mama tossed the envelope on the coffee table. It landed with a dull thud.

“I don’t see what the point is.” Everything seemed pointless at that moment. Chris was gone. My brain knew I’d done the right thing in sending him away; my heart, on the other hand, felt like it would never work properly again.

“Don’t you worry, honey.” Mama patted my cheek. “I will take care of this.”

“How?”

She pointed at the envelope. “With that. I can’t make everything better, but this thing with your father? That I can fix.”

“What is it?”

Her smile was small and wholly diabolical. “Insurance.”

Dad agreed to meet at the same café where I’d met with him before. In fact, he was already seated when Mama and I arrived, hunched over a cup of coffee. When he saw us, he stood, surprised to see I’d brought Mama with me.

“Lucy, it’s good to see you.” Smiling, he leaned down to give Mama a hug, which she rebuffed.

She slid into the booth. “I can’t say I could say the same.”

“Mae, I didn’t know you were bringing your mother,” he said, an edge to his voice.

“Surprise.”

“Don’t bother getting on at her. I insisted.” Mama pulled out the envelope and dropped it on the table.

Dad’s gaze flew to the packet and back to Mama’s face. “What’s that?”

Arching an eyebrow, Mama leaned forward. “This? It’s how I’m going to make sure you never, ever threaten my children’s happiness again.”

His forehead wrinkled. “What does that mean?”

“You know, I spent almost half my life thinking you were a good man who just made bad decisions. I stuck with you through a lot of the stupid things you did. I watched you lose jobs and waste money, but there was always a little part of me that thought you weren’t all bad. I thought, given the choice, you would choose the right thing when it mattered.” Her eyes narrowed to blue slits. “Apparently, I was also an idiot.”

Dad opened his mouth but Mama put a hand up to stop him.

“No. I’m gonna say this and then we’re leaving. This will be the very last time you ever see my face.” She opened the envelope and began pulling things out. “This is evidence of several fake IDs you created. That’s illegal, of course.” A packet of paper. “These are the credit card accounts you opened from applications you stole from strangers’ mailboxes. Did you know stealing mail is a federal offense? I didn’t know that until this nice man came to the door one time and identified himself as an inspector with the United States Postal Service.” A business card joined the items on the table. “He was very interested in talking to you. Don’t worry, I covered for you.”

Good ole Dad was starting to look a little green. “Lucy—”

“This one is my favorite though,” she said, talking right over him. She withdrew a USB drive. “Four or five years ago, the last time you stayed at the house, I knew you were into something but I couldn’t figure out what. Leaving all hours of the night with strangers, sometimes in one of those serial killer-type vans. So, Sue rigged up a video camera and wouldn’t you know it? We got real nice pictures of you and your new friends with a lot of animals, and I’m not talking about cats and dogs. Did you know the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Services are the ones who take care of idiots who traffic animals? Me, neither. But luckily, another nice agent came and talked to me. Left a card in case I had anything I wanted to tell them.”

Dad’s face was downright frozen now. He reached out a hand and, for a split second, I thought he might try to grab everything and make a run for it.

Mama must have suspected the same. “Go ahead. Do you think I’m foolish enough to only have one copy?”

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice shaky.

Mama held up a finger. “You will erase any damaging photos and information you have concerning Chris and Mae and Chris’s family.” Another finger. “You will never again show up to my house or any place in Two Harts. Period.” Yet another finger. “You will leave us alone. Send a postcard if you have something to tell us.”

Mama handed me the envelope and I hastily stuffed everything back in it. She stood and flung her purse over her shoulder.

“If you decide to break any of these rules, this information will immediately find its way to the right authorities.” She leaned in close to my father. “Don’t try me, Dale Sampson.”

As she passed, my father gave Mama a long look, one that Mama returned. And I felt it. Whatever hold he’d had on her all these years, Mama had severed it completely. Dad flinched.

When we got back in the car, Mama let out a shaky breath. “Oh, my goodness. I can’t believe I did that.” She held up a hand. “Look how much I’m shaking.”

I stared at her in awe. “Mama, you are a badass.”

A blush colored her cheeks. “Watch your language, honey. But yes. Yes, I am.”

That night, I sent Chris a text.

Me: It’s taken care of. Those photos will never be seen. It’s safe now.

Although I saw that he’d read it, he never replied.