way they all seemed to know how to keep their kids clean and dressed with what seemed like very little effort. There’d been days she swore finding two matching socks was a feat akin to Frodo’s journey to throw the ring into the volcano.
“So you can all talk shit about me to my face instead of behind my back? No, thanks.”
Dee sighed loudly. “I said I was sorry. They started to ask me questions. It’s not like any of this stuff can’t be found out on the internet. I mean, Effie, you make your living off it. Do you really think people don’t talk about it?”
Effie knew her work’s value lay in her past. She knew her story was public knowledge. She rubbed at the spot between her eyes. “Look, just...be more careful, okay? And tell your kid to back off.”
“She’s upset because her dad left,” Dee said after a second. “I know she’s been a pain to some of the other kids lately. She feels left out. Maybe if you could ask Polly to be a little nicer to her, you know, include her in some things...”
“You want me to have my kid befriend yours?” Effie frowned, thinking of all the little stories Polly had told her about Meredith’s bullying tactics.
“She used to have a lot of friends, and now she’s the outcast. She thinks they’re making fun of her because of her dad leaving.”
“It’s because she spreads rumors and makes fun of other kids.”
Dee coughed. “Girls like Polly... If she was nice to Meredith, the other kids would like her, too.”
Effie rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure that’s how it works, to be honest. Polly’s not the one being nasty, you know.”
“I know.”
This conversation had not gone at all the way Effie had imagined it would. Consequently, her righteous outrage was fading in the face of Dee’s apologies and pleas on behalf of her lonely, socially alienated daughter. “I’ll talk to Polly.”
“I’ll talk to Meredith. And, Effie...if you don’t want to join the moms’ group, maybe you’d like to grab coffee one day? Catch up? I’m really sorry, I never meant for anything to be hurtful. It got blown out of context. It’s easy to forget there’s a real person on the other side of the gossip. Let me make it up to you.”
“Sure,” Effie said, to her own surprise. “That sounds great.”
Dee sounded pleased. “Great. I’ll call you next week.”
They disconnected and Effie tucked her phone into her pocket. She went into Polly’s room to wish her good-night, only to find her daughter already asleep. Another rush of love washed over Effie, so strong it made her want to cry.
It was only later as she was falling into sleep that Effie jerked awake with that feeling of falling. She’d forgotten to call Mitchell. She twisted in her sheets to look at the clock. Too late now. He really wasn’t the one she wanted to talk to anyway, but although she tapped in Heath’s number, she deleted it before the call could connect.
Serving her father coffee, Effie feels incredibly grown-up but far from mature. Not even with the small bump of her belly sticking out from the front of her maternity dress. It’s a horrendously ugly outfit and does nothing to hide the pregnancy she and her father have not yet discussed.
He takes the coffee and sets it on the table to look at her. “You don’t have to stay here, you know that? Your mother...”
“She made herself very clear.” Effie sips from a glass of ice water, the only thing she can stomach right now.
Her father sighs. “She’s sorry about that.”
“I’m sure she is.” Effie shakes her head. “But I’m fine here. Really.”
“If that boy wants to step up and take responsibility,” her father begins but stops when Effie holds up a hand.
“This isn’t Heath’s baby. I told Mom that. But Heath is willing to let me live here. It’s my best option. And it will be fine. Good. It’s going to be great.” As always since she came home, there’s an awkward silence in the space where once she’d have called him Dad. She can’t bring herself to do it anymore. It’s not Daddy, but even so, the name is soured for her. It’s not as if she can suddenly start calling him Pop or something like that. So Effie doesn’t call her father anything, and it’s obvious and uncomfortable, but neither of them ever mention it.
“I know you think so.” Her father frowns. “I understand.”
Effie sighs, sounding very much as he had only moments before. “You don’t.”
“I’d like to,” her father says.
This is never the sort of conversation a girl should ever have with her father. It involves trauma and awful things. Also sex, which wasn’t awful nor a trauma, despite the fact she ended up in this delicate condition when she ought to have known better.
Her father sighs again, looking so much older than he had even when Effie came back home, and she’d been shocked then at how much he’d aged in the three years she’d been gone. His smile reminds her of when she was younger and he’d take her on a Saturday to the hardware store to look at the tools. He’s the sort of father any girl would dream of, the kind who will get choked up when he dances with her at her wedding. Not that she’s planning a wedding anytime soon.
“The father. He’s not in the picture?”
Effie has not told the baby’s father that he’s the one who knocked her up. She hasn’t seen him since she found out. If he has by some reason heard about it, and he might’ve, because it’s a small town, he probably assumes, as her mother had, that the baby is Heath’s. And it should be, she thinks with a sudden, fierce twist of her mouth. This baby, the one she’s going to get to keep and not the one she lost, should be his.
She shakes her head. “No. He doesn’t know.”
“You could come home, Effie. We’ll take care of you.” Her father sounds sincere.
Effie believes him. But... “I’m almost nineteen. I’m in school, I’m working, and I’m having a baby. Living with Heath is helping me. We’re going to be all right. I don’t have to come home. I can’t.”
“Why not? Because of your mother? She’s just having a hard time with all of this. Honey, I know your mom likes to talk. But that’s all it is. She’ll come around. You know she will.”
“No, not because of her. Because I’m not a kid anymore.”
“You’re still our daughter. You’ll always be our little girl. Effie, your mom and I want to help you. That’s all.” Her father lifts the coffee mug as though he means to drink from it but puts it down without so much as a sip. He shakes his head. Sighs again.
Effie wants to make this easier for him, but she doesn’t know how. “This is the best thing for me.”
“To live in a crap-hole apartment, working and going to school,
