"Do you want something to drink . . . maybe?" she offered hesitantly. He shook his head. She nervously flattened her hair. "Well . . . maybe something to eat? I can make you —"
"How long are you back for, Lianne?" he asked, cutting to the chase. He didn't want to be there. He didn't want to spend an afternoon that could be spent making money or with Alicia or with Veronica here, with the ex-wife who'd torn him to pieces years ago, trying to gauge her end game.
But he didn't have a choice. Obviously, his last visit hadn't been effective.
"Keith. . . ."
"I came over here weeks ago and you said that it was a mistake to try and see Marlie," he said. "You said that you didn't want to throw her life into chaos. You said that you had moved here a year ago because it was cheaper here than San Diego. You said that she wasn't part of the decision. But, honestly, Lianne, I'm not really buying that any more."
"I wasn't lying to you, Keith, I wasn't," Lianne immediately defended. "That was why I moved here. And going to your house that night — it was completely spur of the moment! I really did mean to keep out of it after that. But she called me, Keith! How could I say no to her?"
"Probably the same way you left her in a hotel room sixteen years ago," he replied. She looked away from him, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Why can no one forgive me? I made a mistake, okay? I made a lot of mistakes, I know." She faced him again, her face pleading. But I'm trying, here! I'm trying as hard as I can! But no matter how much time passes and no matter how hard I try, you and Veronica never seem to care!" Keith only stared, sighing.
She turned away, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from a nearby drawer and lighting one up. She smoked for a minute, leaning against the kitchen counter with her hand tightly gripping the edge and her eyes closed. She looked so much older.
"I still have it, you know," he finally said. Her eyes flickered open.
"Have what?" she asked softly.
"The note you left. Veronica threw it out, but I went back and rescued it from the trash. I kept it. I thought maybe Marlie would want to see it when we . . . when we decided it was time for her to know the truth." She didn't say anything. He didn't need her to. He took the folded, yellowing paper from his pocket, unfolded it and smoothed it out, laying it on the kitchen table.
She stared at it.
"Do you remember what you wrote?" he asked. When she didn't say anything, he began to read aloud. "Dear Keith and Veronica, I know this isn't the best way to do this, but it is the only way I can. I want to be better than this. I want to be better than I am. But I can't. I'm not."
"You don't have to — to read it," Lianne protested softly.
Keith didn't heed her. "No matter how hard I try, this is all I am, and I know that you both deserve better; I know that you demand better. I'm sorry. I tried to leave you to live your own lives separate from me. I wanted to raise this baby on my own without burdening you. But I can't do it. I've already used up what money I had and I have no idea how much longer I'll be able to stay sober. I'm sorry. It would be better for her to have you as her family, not me. She deserves you as I do not. Please don't deny her that because of what I am and what I'm not. I'm sorry."
"Keith," Lianne said, her voice a whisper.
"Wait, wait, I'm getting to the best part," he told her. "I really do love her and both of you. For as long as I live, you'll always be my family and I wish only the best for all of you. Love, Lianne."
There was silence then as he finally looked away from the old, fading cursive hand-writing and at the woman to whom that hand-writing belonged. "If you only want the best for us, why is my family falling apart because of you? Why is Veronica crying herself to sleep every night? Why is Marlie running away every other day?"
Lianne shook her head, looking away from him determinedly.
"I understand that you want to get to know your daughter, Lianne," he said softly. "But if you truly loved her, you wouldn't be doing this to her. Or to her sister."
"I'm not doing anything to her!" Lianne defended. "I — you have no idea what I've sacrificed for her! I have done the best I can, and no one will . . . no one understands." Keith said nothing. There was pity rising in him. There was no way not to pity her. How had she become this woman? How had things changed so much?
"How long are you here for, Lianne?" he finally asked again. "How long are you staying this time? That's all I want to know."
"I'm staying for good," she answered him. "I've been saving money for years and I bought this house. I'm staying for good." She said it firmly, bravely, fiercely.
He met her courageous gaze. "Did you save the money or did you get it from your husband when he died?" The color drained from her face at his question. There. She wasn't expecting him to know that. He had discovered her second marriage; he had finally found out the vital piece of information that had been hidden for so long.
"I — I . . . don't —"
"When you came to me all those years ago, pregnant, saying you had made a mistake, saying that there was no where for you to turn, I took you in," Keith said, ignoring her stuttering. "I found out that you had been living with Craig and that he was probably the father, but I didn't do anything about that fact. I didn't confront you. I didn't tell Veronica. But —!"
"I didn't get a penny from Craig!" Lianne insisted, interrupting. "He was trailer trash. He was . . . I saved the money, Keith. I'm here all on my own. His death was just . . . How do you even know? What gives you the right to — to dig into my past like that?"
"What gives me the right?" Keith repeated. "Perhaps it's the fact that you're the mother of my daughter and her daughter? Perhaps it's the fact that my entire family is suffering because of you?" he said, standing up in his anger.
"It's not my fault if things are. . . . She called me. She called me. She wants to get to know me. She's the one person in my life who can forgive me for all the mistakes I've made. And you can't blame me for wanting to make up those mistakes to her, to the one person who. . . . I know I've ruined everything with you and Veronica, but you can't take Marlene from me. You can't."
Keith said nothing. He turned away from her and started out of the house. When he glanced back at her, she wasn't trying to stop him or say anything. She was simply lighting another cigarette. "I remember Craig," he told her. She stared at him. "You dated him in college before we met. When I found out you were having an affair, I thought it was him before I learned it was Jake." He paused. "He was the one who's girlfriend putting a restraining order on him around the same time we got married. You sure know how to pick 'em."
"I picked you," she said softly.
"But I wasn't what you really wanted. I never was."
And he walked away without looking back this time.
"I want to talk to you about something."
No one responded to her announcement. Jason was spending the night at a friend's house; Ben was trying to sneak his peas to B.J. without anyone noticing. Her mother didn't even bat an eyelash. The closest thing she got to a response was the slight stiffening of her father's back. She hadn't talked to either of them in nearly two weeks, not since that disastrous fight, and they obviously were wary of what she would say.
They couldn't hold this against her, though; they couldn't.
"I've made a decision, and I hope you respect it, because it's what I want. I think it's what I deserve. And I think it would be best for all of us. I know that you can say no, but I'm asking please to let me do this."
"Ben," Veronica said softly, "it'd be easier to flush the peas down the toilet."
Ben looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
"I'd use the upstairs bathroom if I were you," Logan recommended. "It's less temperamental."
"Really?" Ben asked, looking rather confused.
"Just this once," Veronica said. When he hesitated, she added, "act now on this special offer; it wouldn't come around again." Ben looked back and forth between his mother and father before gathering his peas onto a napkin and racing up the stairs. Veronica smiled after him for a moment. Her smile disappeared when she faced Marlie again.
"What do you want?" Logan asked softly, putting down his fork.
Suddenly they were both staring at her. Marlie swallowed. She had made her decision. This is what she wanted. She had already told Lianne she was going to ask. There was no backing out now.
"I want to move in with Lianne."
Veronica pushed back her chair and stood up. "Veronica," Logan began softly. Ignoring him, she walked out of the room. A moment later Marlie heard the front door open and slam closed again. And Veronica thought that she was immature. Marlie looked at her father.
"This is your hard for your mother," her father said softly.
"I can tell," Marlie replied dryly. It was quiet for a moment.
"Was it her idea or yours?" he asked.
"Hers. But I . . . I really want to do this, Dad. I want a chance to get to know her. It's not fair that I can't have that. I know what you and Mom did was in my best interest and everything but . . . but I deserve the chance to get to know her."
"What about school?"
"I'll drive the extra miles," Marlie told her. "If . . . if you'll let me have the Honda."
"I gave it to you, didn't I?" he asked. Marlie nodded, waiting for him to say something more. "Marlie, I know we haven't really talked about any of this . . . about your adoption and everything. Things haven't been so good lately in this house. Your mom and I have just been . . . do you want to talk about it?"
"I do," Marlie nodded, "but it won't change my mind." He stared down at his plate and she felt guild prickle her spine. How could he always do that to her? "I love you, Dad," she told him, and he met her gaze again, "and I . . . I love Mom, too." Those words came out more hesitantly. But they were true, really.
"But I," she went on slowly, "I want to get to know Lianne. I think maybe this would be the best way. It's not like I won't see you and Mom at all or anything. I'll still be in Neptune."
It took him a little while to answer. She had always thought of all the people in her family he was the one who understood her best, the one with whom she was closest. How had they gone from that to . . . this? "This is really what you want?" he questioned. His brown gaze bore into her. "You want to leave us? You want to live with her?"
"Yes," Marlie answered, and it came out as a whisper. He stood up, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "Dad?"
"Okay," he said. "Okay. Move in with her."
"Really?" She had expected more of a fight than that. She had expected shouting and tears and . . . more.
"We can't force you to live with us if you don't want to, Marlie."
"I'm not saying that I don't. . . ."
"It's okay," he told her. "If this is what you want, we'll make it work." He gave her an encouraging smile. The fact of the matter, however, was that as good as her dad was at writing screenplays and best selling novels, the man was not an actor. He was nothing close. And the smile he gave her didn't reach his eyes.
Before she could say anything he was gone. He had left the room. She heard him climbing the stairs, probably to check on Ben. Marlie looked around the empty kitchen.
"I'm not trying to hurt you," she said. She had meant to say that. She had planned to say that.
But now there was no one was there to hear her.
Ben ran into her room. His pajamas were a little too small for him but he refused to let anyone buy him new ones. He had a ratty rocket-ship blanket with him, one that Grandma Alicia had gotten him when he was a baby.
Marlie knew why he was there. It was a shock the whole house hadn't come tumbling down at this point, her parents were shouting so loudly. Any minute the neighbors were going to call the police about a domestic dispute.
"Come here, Benny," Marlie whispered, inviting her little brother to join her in her bed. He looked relieved and crawled eagerly under the covers before wrapping his little arms around her. She smiled down at him.
"YOU'RE THE ONE THAT TOLD HER TO GO ON AND MOVE OUT OF THE HOUSE! YOU MIGHT AS WELL HAVE PACKED HER BAGS FOR HER!"
"Do you want to read a story?" Marlie asked him, as if she couldn't hear her mother shouting. Ben nodded. "The usual?" she said knowingly. He nodded. She fished out the Percy Jackson books from her bedside table. Her father had gotten them for her years ago but Jason and Ben had always been more attached to them; they were falling apart at this point, with yellowing pages and torn covers.
"I'M NOT THE ONE WHO NEEDS TO TALK TO HER!" Logan bellowed.
"Which one do you want to read?" Marlie asked. "The Titan's Curse? That's my favorite."
"Mine, too," Ben agreed. His favorite was always whichever one Marlie suggested first. It was adorable, really. He had once told her that his two favorite heroes were Percy Jackson and his mom. He was such a mama's boy.
"I'M DOING THE BEST I CAN!" Veronica screamed. A door slammed.
"Marlie, why are Mommy and Daddy fighting?" Ben asked, his eyes wide.
"Let's start at the beginning, okay?" Marlie said, opening the book and not answering. She knew the answer. But she couldn't deal with it. Because this fight . . . this fight was worse than any of the others. She hadn't realized it; she had thought her parents fought all the time.
But they didn't.
They bickered and argued but it never lasted more than day; the shouting never got too loud. The last time they had gotten in a fight remotely close to one this bad, she and Jason had been shipped to spend the weekend with the young couple that lived down the street in Virginia. On Sunday night Mr. Lewis went by their house to see how things were going.
When he came back, Marlie had heard him telling Mrs. Lewis that she and Jason had to stay another night because, "they were on the kitchen table, Sally! The table! I can't believe I had to see that!" Marlie hadn't known what that meant at the time. She wasn't sure if it meant her parents were fighting anymore or not.
Ben was born nine months later.
Maybe they had fought like this more often when she was little. She had hazy memories of such. But they had fought badly less and less over the years. This fight made all their squabbles over carpools and screenplays and even babies seem silly. They were better parents than ones who fought viciously in front of their children. They were better spouses than that.
At least, they had been, and she hadn't even realized it until now.
"Marlie?" Ben insisted. "Are they fighting because they don't love each other any more?"
"What?" Marlie said, looking down at him in alarm. The day her parents, as crazy as they were and as rocky as her relationship with them currently was, decided to split would be the day the world really came to a screeching halt.
"Jesse's parents stopped loving each other and now he only sees his daddy once a month. Am I only gonna see Daddy once a month?" He looked truly afraid.
"Mom and Dad still love each other, Ben, I promise you," she told him. "You're going to see them both every day for years and years. Okay?"
"But then why are they shouting?" Ben asked.
She looked away from him. "Because of me. They're fighting because of me."
"LOGAN ECHOLLS!" Veronica shouted, storming into the Grand.
Alarmed, he looked up from where he sat on the ground playing video games with Dick. "What's up?" he asked frowning.
"What's up?" she repeated viciously. "What's UP?"
"Dude," Dick exclaimed, his eyes still glued on the scream, "I just totally ripped your head off!" Her eyes flashing, Veronica stepped forward and ripped the x-box cord out of the wall. Dick let out a yell of protest.
"Scram!" Veronica replied angrily.
"Did you forget to take your happy pills, Mars?" Dick asked, grinning. The fact that he took her anger less and less seriously over the years was really starting to bug her.
"OUT!" Veronica yelled.
"Okay, okay, jeez!" Dick said, making a face at Logan as pushed himself to his feet and started for the door. "I hate it when you PMS."
"Dick, I swear to God," Veronica began threateningly.
"I'm gone, I'm gone," he assured, and then he really was, disappearing out of the suite. Veronica looked back at Logan, who had gotten to his feet.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"What's going on is that you are paying Mrs. Navarro to come by my house and do ALL the cleaning and cooking and I can't kick her out without being mean and she keeps insisting she's being paid, and then I found out you paid all the my mom's hospital bills and you paid for the rest of my Hearst education and you set up a trust fund for Marlie!"
Logan stared at her. "To be honest, I expected you to figure it all out a while ago. Better be careful or they're going to take your Nancy Drew badge away." When she only stared at him, her jaw locked with indignation, he sighed and asked, "Is there a problem with my paying for any of that?"
"I DON'T NEED YOUR MONEY!" Veronica shouted at him angrily.
Three months ago she had agreed to let him pay Mrs. Navarro to clean the house twice a week. Since that time she had found herself running into him more and more often, as he suddenly seemed to think that being financially invested in her life he could once more be an actual part of her life. He had started helping her dad at the office, saying he needed to get some experience in the working world, and for the first time, Keith was actually starting to speak well of Logan. And he was always volunteering to babysit Marlie and. . . .
She was rather enjoying it, truth be told, and she couldn't help but be touched by how much he liked playing with Marlie and how well he seemed to get along with her, but. . . . And suddenly Mrs. Navarro was coming around more and more often and doing more and more and then Keith was saying that all their money problems were disappearing and, damn him, that sneaky little —!
"Actually," Logan said, not at all affected by her anger, "you kind of do. But don't worry. I have plenty to go around."
"You can't do that, Logan! You can't just —!"
"Why not?" he demanded, his calm demeanor gone in a flash. "Why can't I help the few people I care about? I don't have any family, Veronica. I don't have anyone but you and Dick. What I do have is money. So I'm giving that to you. I don't need it. And I want to help you. There's nothing wrong with that."
"Yes, there is," Veronica insisted.
"Well, too bad!" Logan yelled. "You can't do everything yourself! Let me help you! I've gotten attached to Marlie too and I don't want to see you have to give her up! If that means paying for a few things, then okay! I'll do it!"
"It's not that simple," Veronica told him.
"Because you won't let it be," he replied. "What are you so afraid of? Do you think I'm going to turn on you again? 'Cause I hate to be the one to shatter all your ideas, Ronnie, but I've haven't abandoned you at all in years. I was an ass back in high school, but with a father who beat me —,"
Veronica flinched at that; he spoke so rarely of that part of his life. But he just plowed right on, not seeming to care at his admission of weakness or her wincing response.
"— and a mom who drank and drank and then threw herself off a bridge and a girlfriend who got murdered, can you really blame me? But you know what? Fine, blame me. The fact is I'm not that bastard any more. I grew up. I slept with Madison, yeah, because the one person who meant anything to me was out of my life for what I thought was forever and I was drunk off my ass! I would have fucked anything that moved! That doesn't mean I was betraying you!
"And it doesn't mean I will betray you!
"I've been doing everything I can, Veronica. I've been going to all my classes; I've stopped drinking as much and I haven't so much as looked at a girl in months. I've started helping your dad at the office and I actually like spending time with Marlie. What is it gonna take, Veronica?
"Why won't you let me fucking help you?"
Veronica turned away from him. Every word out of his mouth was true. What was it about him that got her so riled up? Why did he bring out all the anger and bitterness in her? She turned to face him again. "I'm sorry," she said slowly, crossing her arms over her chest defensively, "I just. . . ."
"You just don't want someone like me, I get it, really," Logan told her bitterly. "You can't have me be a part of your life in any way, because if I am then it means the Pizs and Duncans of the world can't be in your life, and that's who you want, isn't it? Whatever. I obviously can't change that."
She hated when he got self-deprecating like that. She hated it. Unable to stop herself, she told him furiously, "I wish it was that way. I wish that I wanted boys like Piz and Duncan. I wish I was the sort of girl that went with that sort of boy. But I'm not. Opposites don't really attract. Piz called himself a lover. But I'm a fighter, Logan. I wish I could change it, but —"
"I thought you were proud of that fact," he told her coldly. "Superwoman Veronica Mars to the rescue! Powers activate! The world needs me but I don't need anyone! Does your coat transform into a cape, Veronica? Be honest now — does it have a stripe?"
She shook her head. "You think you know me so well —" she began angrily.
"Oh, I do," he told her, his eyes blazing. "That's what you wish you could change. No one's supposed to really know you, no one's really supposed to care about you —!"
"No!" she exploded. "You don't know me! And you don't get it! I don't want to be a fighter but I am! I wish I wasn't but I am! I've tried so hard not to be. But I'm a fighter and you're a fighter too and. . . ."
"And what?" he asked.
"And I'm afraid to be with you because loving you means admitting I'm a fighter and admitting that . . . admitting that means admitting I can't control who I am and not being able to control who I am is the scariest fucking thing I've ever had to face!" The words poured out of her before she could stop them.
He stared at her and her at him, and for a moment the only sound was their harsh breathing. Their yells lingered in the air; their wounds were open and raw. And an instant before it happened, she knew it would, and she also knew there was no use pretending there was anything else she wanted in the world at that moment.
He ran at her, clutching her face in his hands and slamming his lips to hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, sinking into him, into what was right and familiar and everything she had been too afraid to miss in all those months. He lifted her off the ground even as he began trailing kisses along her jaw.
"Saying you don't want to love me really isn't the most romantic thing in the world," he told her between pants, even as they stumbled backwards towards his bedroom, "but I'll take what I can get."
She captured his mouth with hers again, desperate for more, and as her knees hit the bed and she folded onto it he came after her, his weight warm and right; her little hands slipped under his shirt, feeling his chest and his arms as she pushed the green t-shirt up, hoping to discard it and much, much more soon. . . .
"Wait, wait," he said, pulling away from her and holding her back, his arms tight around her arms. "Say it," he demanded, his eyes burning determinedly into hers even as she felt him hard against her leg. "Say it."
She didn't have to ask what. She stared at him for an instant, knowing what would happen if she said it. There was no going back after this. They couldn't keep playing the on and off again game. It would kill them both. Either they ended it for good now, stopped what they were doing and she left, or . . .
"Say it, Veronica."
She took a breath. She was what she was. It was about time she accepted that. It was about time she accepted herself . . . and him.
"I love you."
"I wanted your life to be a fairy tale," Veronica told her.
Marlie looked up from unloading the clothing in her dresser to stare at her mother. In the week since she had said she wanted to move out of the house, her mother hadn't said a word to her. She had gotten permission, though, so she'd begun to pack.
"What?" Marlie asked.
"Maybe not a fairy tale, but something close," her mom went on.
"My life was once. I had a boyfriend I loved, a best friend I adored, and parents who couldn't have been more amazing. Then my boyfriend dumped me for no reason, my best friend was murdered and all I had left were my parents. And then I didn't even have them both."
"Your mom was sixteen years old, too, the first time Lianne left her."
"Mom . . .," Marie began hesitantly, not sure exactly what she was going to say.
"I didn't want that for you," Veronica said, and she had this look on her face, a look of near confusion, as if she couldn't understand how all her plans had gone so horribly awry. "I wanted you to have . . . I wanted it to be so that even if you . . . even if you didn't find that perfect boy and even if your best friend was murdered or something equally bad happened, I still wanted you to have parents who loved you no matter what.
"I tried so hard to give you that."
"You did give me that," Marlie said, suddenly flushing with guilt for all the things she'd said to her mom. How did parents do that? How could they be so horrible for so long and you were perfectly within your rights to rip them to pieces, and then suddenly they made guilt your new best friend?
Was there an instruction manual? Did they take a class? Because Logan and Veronica Echolls aced that class. Straight 100s across the board.
"If you go to live with her, Marlie, she'll only hurt you."
Marlie looked away from her mom. "I don't believe that," she replied softly.
"I know you don't. You don't want to believe it. I didn't either once upon a time. My mom left me when I was your age, she abandoned your grandpa and . . . and she abandoned me, but I searched for her. I couldn't believe she really. . . . I found her. I used all my college money to put her in a clinic to get sober. I didn't believe she'd really meant to abandon me. But when she came home, she was still drunk, she'd wasted my money and she left again."
"Maybe she's changed," Marlie said defiantly. She still couldn't look at her mother. Why didn't Veronica understand? It wasn't the same. It wasn't. It couldn't be.
"She hasn't."
"You don't know that!" Marlie insisted. Her mother didn't say anything for so long that Marlie finally looked back at her. Veronica's face had gone steely. That was never a good sign.
"I do know that," she answered slowly. Her eyes darted around the half-packed room. "And you will too eventually." She left the room before Marlie could get a word in. If that was her idea of convincing Marlie not to leave, it wasn't very effective. She went on with her packing.
But as she lay in bed that night, her mother's words echoed in her head. The words, though, weren't nearly as bad as the look on her mother's face as she spoke those words, a look that swam before Marlie's eyes until she finally fell asleep.
Marlie started slow. "You haven't really said anything about . . . and I haven't asked or . . . about my mom. Veronica. Why did you . . . why did you leave her and Grandpa Keith?"
Lianne paused with her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth. They had finished painting Marlie's soon-to-be room and were having a celebratory dinner. Marlie didn't want to ruin it, but she had to know. The nagging voice in her head courtesy of her mother wouldn't let her not know.
"I was scared for her," Lianne answered, slowly lowering her fork back to her plate. "Lilly Kane's murder . . . it was terrifying and Keith was so involved in the investigation. Someone started to threaten Veronica's life if I didn't leave. It's hard to . . . it's really complicated. But I had to leave. I didn't want to come home to find my daughter dead the way Celeste Kane came home to find Lilly."
It didn't make much sense to Marlie, but she knew one thing: Veronica hadn't said a word about a threat on her life. It was kind of something pretty big to leave out.
It took her about a week to pack up the rest of her things after that. The room in Lianne's house that had been set aside for her was larger than her room at home, and Marlie and Lianne had gone out on a Saturday afternoon to pick out a bedspread and furnishings and curtains and it had been actual fun.
There was a word that the Echolls family didn't seem to remember anymore: fun. At least not as far as Marlie was involved. It didn't matter, though. She was going to live with Lianne; the decision had been made. Ben asked her why she was going. She told him she wanted to get to know Lianne. "Why?"
"Because she's my mom."
"But Mom is your mom," he replied, frowning in an adorable way.
"I have two moms," she told him.
"Why?"
"I just do."
"But what's wrong with our mom? Don't you love her?"
"I do, of course I do, I just . . . I need to live with Lianne."
"Why?"
She gave up at that point. She had talked to Keith and Alicia, explaining her choice. They'd been rather nice about it. Grandpa Keith had given her one of his large, warm hugs, telling her that she was his beautiful baby girl no matter what, and that she could always come to him for anything.
That was the sort of response she wanted from her parents. But it didn't matter. It didn't.
When Jason had asked her why she was leaving, she'd tried to explain it to him a little better than she had with Ben. It didn't really work. "So you're just leaving us?" he asked, ten-year-old anger radiating off him. "Getting a new family?"
"No, I'm just —!" she protested. He didn't let her get a word in.
"You've been acting weird for weeks!" he yelled. "You never want to do anything with me anymore and you're the worst big sister in the world. I don't care if you leave!"
That was probably the worst of it all. She could handle her parents ignoring her. She could shoulder the confused "Why?" that Ben continually gave her. She could take her grandpa and grandma's quiet disappointment. But she had always liked to think of herself as a good big sister; it was something she had prided herself on before everything had changed. . . .
She had been nothing close to a good big sister for months.
But there was nothing she could do about it now. Two and a half weeks after she made the announcement to her parents, she moved out. She packed all of her things into Lianne's truck. Her father had actually helped her.
Her mother, on the other hand, had watched from the kitchen window, her face blank.
When they were finished, she found herself wrapped in an awkward hug with her father. "If you need anything," he told her, "I'll be around." She nodded as she pulled away.
"Thanks," she murmured. He said nothing more, only gave a stiff nod to Lianne, waiting nearby, and walked back to the house. As he went in, Veronica came out, and Marlie wondered if her mother would finally show some sort of emotion, any sort of emotion. Would she get angry and demand Marlie didn't leave? Would she break down into tears? Would she hug Marlie tightly the way her father just had?
"Hi Veronica," Lianne said hesitantly. Veronica only stared at her. Marlie felt bad. Lianne didn't deserve the cold shoulder from Veronica. She really didn't.
"Let me talk to her," Marlie told her, smiling. She turned to face her mom again.
"Don't — don't worry about it, sweetie," Lianne said, wavering under Veronica's glare.
"Sweetie?" repeated Veronica, her lip curling. Lianne flinched.
"Mom," Marlie began, "I. . . ."
"Goodbye, Marlie."
Marlie heard Veronica lock the door after she slammed it shut. That was it. They left.
Lianne had a huge Italian dinner to celebrate Marlie's first night with her, and it had been a lot of fun dancing around the kitchen listening to music blasted at full volume. They'd stayed up late watching old TV and talking about stupid, silly things.
The next morning, a new routine began. She had cereal for breakfast instead of pancakes; no one argued over packed lunches. Lianne kissed her on the cheek before she left for school. It was strangely normal and yet. . . . School passed without incident. Marlie updated her friends on what had happened; they all understood, even if none of them really understood. How could they?
Dinner was fun again. But Marlie spent the whole night wondering what her parents were doing right then, what they were having for dinner and if they were thinking about her. It was past ten at night when the phone rang. "It's for you," Lianne said, holding out the cordless.
"Hello?" Marlie asked, wondering who had called. All of her friends would use her cell phone. . . .
"Hey, Marlie," her father greeted softly. She was surprised. She hadn't expected him to call. "How are you?" he asked.
"I — I'm good. How are you?"
"I'm fine." There was silence. "How was school?"
"Good. I think my English test went well. And I got an A on my paper."
"That's good." Again, the line went quiet. Marlie was glad he had called, she really was, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. There were a thousand things to say, really, but suddenly, somehow, her mind was blank. "Ben says Hi," he told her.
"Tell him I said Hi, too," she replied.
"Your, ah, your mom, Veronica, I mean, says Hi too."
"Does she really?" Marlie asked skeptically. He didn't answer right away. She knew that was her answer. "You don't have to lie to me, Dad," she went on sharply, angry at her mother.
"Goodnight, Marlie," he said, a sigh in his voice.
"Goodnight, Da —."
He'd already hung up the phone.
"What did he have to say?" Lianne asked kindly as Marlie handed her the phone.
"He was just saying Hi," she answered softly. Lianne smiled.
"That's nice."
"Yeah."
Her dad didn't call the next night or the night after that. Soon fun dinner was just dinner; her new house was just her house. Her first week at Lianne's house passed into her second and then suddenly she had been there for a month. It was fun, in away. But at the same time . . . it just wasn't home.
A/N: This was kind of a big chapter and I hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will hopefully be posted soon. Happy July 4th everybody! : )