Create a Life to Love Read online

  “Keep it with me.”

  “Get in the car then, kid.” As soon as she did as I said and the passenger door slammed closed, I had every second thought a person could have. I did not want to do this, but I did not need Beth in my home, asking questions, trying to get to know me. I didn’t want anyone trying to get to know me. Ever. “Keep it together, Mitchell,” I mumbled as I made my way to the driver’s side door. When I climbed into the car, I glanced over at Beth, who was clearly thinking something by the look on her face. “What now?”

  “Nothing.”

  I didn’t argue. I didn’t really care what her answer was.

  “It’s really cool to finally meet you.”

  Ugh. She had to tell me anyway, didn’t she? “Yeah?” I asked, and she beamed. Ugh again. “Same here.” I lied to her, but I didn’t know what to say. And for some reason, the idea of hurting her feelings again was too much for me to handle.

  * * *

  BETH

  I swear to God, we hit every ounce of traffic on the way to the Georgia state line. It was annoying. And Jackie was so touchy on the brakes. Maybe she was trying to throw me through the windshield or something. I had no room to judge, though. I wasn’t a fan of driving, nor was I any good at it. The idea that I was controlling a three-thousand-pound object made me way too nervous. Also, I hated when my mom was in the car with me, backseat driving, correcting every move I made. It was nerve-wracking. I would grind my teeth and eventually get a headache. It was not fun. She had me convinced that I would die in a car crash caused by myself. So, I don’t use my learner’s permit unless absolutely necessary. And I was definitely going to hold out to get my license for as long as I could.

  “It’s because everyone in Florida is ninety-five years old,” I said as I tried to make Jackie discuss something, anything with me. Even if it was the driving conditions, it was better than nothing.

  “That could be it.”

  “It is. And tourists. So many tourists.”

  “That also makes sense.”

  It was a riveting conversation, wasn’t it? I tried to figure out what to say to her next. I mean, I was trapped in a car with my biological mom. Talk about a weird-ass situation. I’ll be honest, though. I prepared myself for many different scenarios. But the one thing I didn’t prepare myself for was how much I was going to look like her. When she swung open that door and her green eyes looked at me as if I was a lunatic? I kind of thought I was going to pass out. It was so surreal. I grew up with a mom whom I looked nothing at all alike and a dad, well, I looked even less like him. Let’s say it was never a complete shock that I was adopted.

  Seeing Jackie for the first time, though… That was a complete shock. She was so pretty. Like, be jealous of if we were in high school together, kind of pretty. I hoped I continued to resemble her as I got older. If I really tried, I could look like a downgraded version of her. My hair was a little darker, and much to my dismay, I didn’t have her boobs, but aside from that, we had a lot of the same features. Especially the chin and cheekbones. And the eyes. It was weird, though. I guess there was a part of me that wanted her to be ugly or a horrible drug addict or a drunk or something equally as awful. It would have made it easier to understand why she gave me up.

  I glanced over at her. She was gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline, sort of how I would grip it when I drove. “How long have you lived in St. Pete?”

  “Long enough.”

  Seriously? Talking to her was worse than talking to a boy. “Long enough for what?”

  “I’ve lived there long enough to like it.”

  “Did you not like it when you first got there?” It was like pulling teeth.

  “Not really.”

  “You don’t like talking about yourself, do you?” I didn’t need to ask that question. It was pretty fucking obvious.

  “What gave you that idea?”

  I laughed and motioned to her hands. “Every time I ask you a question, you white-knuckle the steering wheel. I know you probably think because I’m young, I’m some sort of idiot. But I’m not. I understand the way things work…especially body language.”

  “Well. Okay then.” Jackie glanced over at me before quickly looking back at the road. “I, in fact, do not like talking about myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Seriously, kid?” Jackie tightened her grip on the wheel again. “Because. I’m a writer. I like to write. I don’t like to talk. So, probably best to zip it up over there.”

  “Damn, Jackie, who brought the good-time bear?” She cracked a smile. “Oddly enough, I don’t really like to talk about myself, either.” I looked out the window and sighed.

  “When did you find out that you were adopted?”

  I snapped my head to look at her. At my mother. What the hell? Was she really asking me a question now? “Ha! No way. Question for a question.”

  She sighed. “Fine.”

  “Last year. My mom told me.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, my adoptive mom.”

  “She’s your mom, kid.”

  “I mean, yeah, I know. But I was explaining.” Tough crowd. “I kind of had an idea since I don’t look a thing like her. Or my dad. She sat me down and asked me a bunch of questions. She explained that I was adopted in this weird voice I never really heard from her before.” My mind flashed back to the day she told me. We were sitting on my bed, and I was so upset about a dumb assignment in class that had to do with family trees. And I was crying, and she broke down and told me everything. It was one of my most treasured memories. Not because of the tears but because I knew how much she loved me. And I knew in that moment that it didn’t matter what anyone said or did, she would always be my mom.

  “And how did you take that?”

  “Uh, no. Question for a question.” Reminding Jackie of that was so fun.

  Jackie groaned.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “No.” Jackie glanced at me again.

  “Is that why you’re such a fucking peach?” I asked and again got a small smile.

  “You need to figure out how to ask open-ended questions, kid.”

  She really did think I was an idiot. “I’m still getting the information I want.”

  “Oh, really?” Jackie changed lanes and flew past a semi. The traffic had cleared, and now she was speeding, zig-zagging around the cars. How was this trip crawling then? “So, tell me about your relationship with your mom.”

  “Whoa, Jackie, really pulling the big punches, aren’t ya?” I rolled my eyes and didn’t wait for her reaction. “My relationship with her is really great. She’s kind and has a big heart. She’s always welcoming to my friends, too. They all call her ‘Mom’ when they come over. She expects good grades and for me to listen, so I do those things. I love her to death. I was devastated when I found out I wasn’t hers.”

  “Then why try to find me?”

  “Um, no. That’s two questions. It’s my turn.” I watched Jackie roll her eyes. “Tell me why you gave me up.” It was ballsy to ask when she specifically said she wasn’t going to answer it, but I thought I’d try again. I don’t know why, but I was dying to know the reason.

  “No.” Her answer was so final that I couldn’t even argue.

  “Then I’m not telling you why I wanted to find you.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.” And that was it. We sat in silence for the next two hours, only speaking when she asked me if I had to go to the bathroom at the rest area we stopped at. I didn’t respond. Only shook my head. She left the car, though, and took her keys with her. I slipped my iPhone from the outer pocket of my backpack. There were fifteen texts from my mom, all of them her freaking out. I hadn’t talked to her since last night before bed, so I knew I needed to say something.

  I’m okay, Mom. I promise. I’m on my way home. Please don’t ask what happened. You’ll find out soon enough.

  The response bubble popped up immediately, and I held my breath. I knew she wasn’t going to like
that answer. But when she responded with, Okay, honey. I love you. Be careful, I felt tears start to sting my eyes. Why did she have to be so awesome? Why did I need to find out about someone that didn’t want me to begin with?

  The truth was that I wanted to find my birth mom because I didn’t know who I really was. Where did I come from? Why did I have green eyes and shaggy hair and why, oh why, was it so hard for me to keep weight off? I had so many questions. But when Jackie wanted to know why I wanted to find her, I didn’t know what to say. There was a large part of me that was scared to find her. Afraid that she would be exactly how she was turning out. Someone who didn’t want me then and didn’t want me now. I didn’t know why I hoped for different because my mom was amazing. She was wonderful and had a heart of gold. And she loved me so much. Like, we still had the mother/daughter relationship where she kissed me on the cheek, and I never squirmed away from her. Especially after she told me I was adopted. There was no way I was going to push her away for saving me from the one person who should have loved me through everything. When I told my mom that, she cried. She cried so hard. I never saw her cry like that before. And she hugged me and told me she would never give me away. And then I cried. It was awful and great all at the same time.

  So, telling Jackie that I wanted to make sure I was right? That she really was a giant asshole who never wanted me? I guess it didn’t seem like a good way to end this six-hour relationship. Not that I cared. Like, at all.

  Jackie climbed back into the car, applied the brake, and the engine came to life when she pushed the ignition button. I tried not to look at her. I really did. But when I finally broke down, I noticed she had been crying.

  For some reason, seeing that made a thin crack appear in my resolve to hate this woman. She was human after all.

  As Jackie sped down the onramp to the expressway, she flipped on the radio. “Do you like alternative music?” she asked and cleared her throat. Even her voice sounded as if she had been crying.

  “Yeah. I mean, look at me. Of course, I do.”

  A light laugh came out of Jackie, and it made me feel slightly better. “Good,” she said softly as she checked her blind spots and floored it onto I-95.

  The rest of the drive was filled with the occasional “jackass driver” and “motherfucker, get out of the left-hand lane!” I didn’t say much else and let Florence + The Machine and The Head and the Heart take me away. I will admit that I was happy to find out that my taste in music was similar to Jackie’s. Not that it mattered, but at least I wasn’t being subjected to country. I think I would have rather hitchhiked.

  * * *

  When we made it into Savannah, there was a weight that sort of lifted from my shoulders. It felt really good to not be completely on Jackie’s territory any longer. I wasn’t going to say I felt reassured by any stretch of the imagination, but I definitely felt lighter, not as confined.

  “Turn here?”

  “Yes. We’re the fourth house on the right-hand side.” I watched as my house got closer and closer. When she stopped in front of it, I grabbed my backpack, and reached for the car door.

  Jackie breathed out, “Wow.” And then said, “This is a great house.”

  I looked at my childhood home. It was a nice house. We lived on Whitaker Street, near Hall, and we bordered historic Forsythe Park, which was definitely the best part of Savannah. I didn’t think I really ever appreciated how awesome Savannah was, though. “Yeah. It is.” I cleared the emotion that raised into my throat. “You don’t have to come in.”

  “Don’t you think I should?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  Jackie’s brow furrowed. “Beth, let me come up. At least to apologize.”

  “For what? You did nothing wrong here.” I did not want or need my mom to meet Jackie. Like I wanted to make her feel worse? Fuck no. “It’s seriously okay.”

  “I’m not negotiating with you.” Jackie turned the car off and looked at me. “Let me do this one thing.”

  Goddammit. Was that what I looked like when I gave that please let me face? No wonder my mom never said no to me. “Okay,” I finally relented. As we climbed out of the BMW, the weight that had so casually floated away moments ago had found a new home right on top of my chest. In every dream of finding my birth mom, not once did she meet my actual mom. I had no idea what to expect. I did not prepare myself for this. We got to the front door of the house, and I glanced back at Jackie. “You really don’t have to do this.”

  Her stern look made me roll my eyes. As I reached for the door, it was being pulled open, and there stood my mom.

  Chapter Two

  SUSAN

  “Beth, my God.” I could hardly get her into my arms fast enough. “Don’t do that again. Do you hear me?” I said into her hair. In between the short seconds of being pissed off and being relieved, I breathed her in as much as I could. She smelled like Beth still, which made me so happy. I knew she was sixteen, but she had never disappeared like that before.

  “I won’t, Mom. I promise.”

  Her words were muffled by my shoulder, but I could tell she was near tears. “Oh, honey.” I pulled her away from me and kissed her on the cheek. “What happened? Where were you? Why weren’t you answering my texts?” I finally glanced at the woman standing behind my daughter, and the sight of her with her long blond hair took my breath away.

  “Mom, this is—”

  “Jackie Mitchell,” I whispered, finishing Beth’s introduction. “You’re Beth’s birth mom, aren’t you?”

  “Um, Mom, what the heck? How did you know that?”

  I watched Jackie standing there with her arms hanging at her side, the same striking green eyes as my daughter, the same dimple in her chin, the same awkward look on her face. I couldn’t stop staring at her. “You look exactly like her.” My words weren’t meant to come out in a whisper, but they did. The expression that washed over Jackie’s face made my heart ache.

  “Yeah, I mean, my genes must be really strong,” Jackie said. She shrugged and smiled at me. She was nervous. That much was obvious.

  “Yes, they really are.” I didn’t know what else to say. I pulled my gaze from Jackie and focused back on Beth. “Honey, why don’t you go wash up for dinner?”

  “You guys didn’t eat yet?”

  “Well, your father is still at work. And when I finally heard from you…” I paused and looked at Beth. She scrunched her face apologetically. “I wanted to wait for you.” Beth smiled at me and bounced gently on the balls of her feet before she bounded off up the stairs to her bedroom and bathroom. I looked back at Jackie. She seemed uncomfortable standing there in her skinny jeans, light blue oxford, and flipflops. I had no idea what she was thinking. “Would you like to come in for some iced tea or…” My voice trailed off as I stepped out of the way and motioned for her to come inside.

  “Got anything stronger?”

  I laughed. “Car rides with Beth do that to me, too.” She was watching my every move when she came through the entryway and stood in front of me. Her gaze was unsettling. I moved my hands up to my hair and pushed the dark locks away from my face. “I have bourbon.”

  “That’ll do,” Jackie said. Her voice was smooth but had an edge to it. It made me wonder.

  As I closed the screen door after Jackie entered, our cocker spaniel Myrtle came flying around the corner barking like a wild woman. “Oh, my goodness, Myrtle, it’s okay! You’re about ten minutes late!” I could barely grab on to her collar as she lunged at Jackie. “Please say ‘hello’ to her. She is perfectly nice, but she needs you to say ‘hello.’” I watched Jackie’s eyes. She was obviously not a dog person. “I promise she won’t bite.”

  Jackie bent down and let Myrtle sniff her hand, and then the dog was all over her, sniffing her legs, jumping up to be petted, wagging her little nub of a tail. “Hi, Myrtle.” Jackie laughed as the dog kept weaving in and out of her legs.

  “I’m sorry. She’s a handful.”

  “Is she a puppy?”
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  “Uh, no, she’s ten.”

  Jackie laughed when Myrtle got on her hind legs and danced around in a circle. “She’s so talented.”

  “She’s a ham.” Jackie followed me to the study with Myrtle not far behind. I invited Jackie in and offered her the armchair to sit, but she continued to stand as I stood in front of the liquor cabinet and tried to breathe. The decanter clinked against the tumbler as I poured the bourbon. I was nervous. I handed her the tumbler with a two-finger pour of my best bourbon and watched as she took the glass with a shaking hand. She noticed me noticing, and I locked eyes with her for a brief second before she raised the glass to her lips and took a swallow.

  I sat on the leather couch in the study, and Myrtle quickly jumped up on the seat next to the big bay window and curled into a ball in the sunlight. The natural light was perfect in the study at this time of day, and it made everything in the room glow, including Jackie’s blond hair. Even though the color was so different from Beth’s, the way Jackie’s hair fell in loose waves was similar. She kept it much tidier than Beth did, though, and it was about three or four inches shorter, landing right below her breasts. When she sat across from me in the wingback chair, her eyes began to wander over the bookshelves surrounding the room. It was strange how we kept watching each other, and I wasn’t sure if I should be creeped out or something else entirely.

  “You have a lot of books. Do you read a lot?”

  “I do,” I answered, following her gaze to the shelves to the right of me. “I love reading.”

  “Me, too.” She cleared her throat before she drank again.

  “So, Jackie,” I started and waited for her to look at me. “What have you done with your life?” The look that passed over Jackie’s features was so intense. I wasn’t sure if I offended her, but I certainly offended myself with my judgmental tone. “I didn’t mean that how it came out,” I said quickly. “I mean, you know—”