Page 93 of Gone Tonight
I open my mouth, preparing to deflect her questions, like always. But the lie refuses to form on my lips.
I slump down lower in my seat, feeling completely defeated.
Nearly a quarter century of running. Three different names. Twelve jobs. Nine apartments.
I can’t hide the truth from her any longer.
“That man is your father.”
My words are spoken softly, but they land like an anvil between us.
Catherine gasps and turns her face away, like she can’t bear to look at me.
Even now, with tension and lies and distrust choking our relationship, I still know my daughter better than I’ve ever known any other living soul.
I know her quick mind is working. She will also recognize that the tattoo imprinted on James’s skin came from prison because she has watched crime shows with me and has seen felons with similar crude markings. Catherine must also have sensed the menace radiating from James.
I brace myself for her questions.
Instead, she gives me an answer.
“He didn’t contact me.” She shakes her head slightly to emphasize her words, still avoiding my eyes. “I think I may have contacted him, though.”
I am both desperate and terrified to know more.
“How?”
“Through Facebook. I was looking for past employees of Pizza Piazzo and he listed it as his prior workplace.”
I squeeze my eyes shut briefly. If Catherine knows about Pizza Piazzo, she must be dangerously close to learning the truth about my past.
I start to spiral, then yank my mind back into the present moment. Catherine is vulnerable out here in the open. Nothing else matters but keeping her hidden from James.
I ask two final questions.
“Does he know your real name?” Catherine nods, and my stomach free-falls.
I press on. “Does he know where you live or work?”
She peers up at the ceiling of the Bonneville, like she’s thinking hard.
“No. He probably saw my Facebook profile, too, but all it shows is my name and that picture you took of me standing in front of the ocean. I keep all my other personal information hidden so only friends can see it.”
I made Catherine promise to do that when she turned eighteen and opened social media accounts against my wishes.
“Does he know about me?” Catherine whispers.
“No,” I say instantly, angry with myself for not having thought to reassure her sooner. “He never knew I was pregnant. No one did.”
I see her absorb this information, then she turns her face away again.
I drop my forehead onto the steering wheel. I allot myself sixty seconds to work the problem. We can’t go back to our apartment since James can easily find the address given that he knows Catherine’s real name. Our savings will buy us some time at a hotel, but what will happen when it runs out? Or when James finds us again?
“Mom? What are you doing?”
I lift my head and reach over to squeeze her hand. My heart breaks when she jerks her arm away before I can touch her.
“Right now I’m going to get some gas. We have to keep moving.”
