The Art of Us

Chapter Twenty-one

Ireland

Five days later, Mara still wasn’t talking to Ireland. Ireland didn’t blame her. She’d made a promise and broken that promise. Her total hypocrisy was not lost on her. She wanted Kal punished for doing the same thing she had done. She hoped for forgiveness in the same way he hoped.

She was denied in the same way he was denied.

But her situation was different. She had told accidentally. He had gone out and told on purpose. Premeditated betrayal.

Everything had come to a crashing crescendo the night of the clambake. Ireland and Mara arrived home at the same time that night. Or close enough. Grace asked why they’d driven separately, and then Mara dumped the whole tale about the assault and the clambake.

Mara told them everything because, as she said when she was talking to them, they were going to hear about it one way or the other, and she owed it to them to have the information come from her and be completely true instead of rumor.

Mara left out one thing: she didn’t tell her parents that Ireland had betrayed her trust. Grace and Jarrod couldn’t figure out what exactly had happened between the girls, and Mara never volunteered the details. Ireland wasn’t sure if it was because Mara had reached deep inside herself and found some compassion and didn’t want Ireland kicked out of the house, or if she was so done with Ireland that she thought Ireland wasn’t even worth the mention.

Ireland hovered in the background as the conversation happened because she didn’t want to be alone in her bedroom with only her thoughts to keep her company.

After Grace heard what had happened to Mara, she insisted that they report the incident “for the safety of other girls.” Mara protested. She didn’t want the drama. She didn’t want her family to have to deal with the drama. Her life wasn’t anybody else’s business. She hated Rowan and didn’t want to ever have to deal with him again. She hated herself and what people would think of her. She’d gone to Redwood Park with him. She’d known he had a reputation as a player. She’d made the mistake.

Grace was exactly what her name described her to be. She held her daughter in her arms and stroked Mara’s hair while whispering words of encouragement, comfort, love. She gave Mara a safe space to say whatever it was she wanted to say. No judgment. No derision. Except when Mara tried to blame herself—then Grace defended her daughter with a ferocity that made Ireland envious.

What would it be like to have a mom hold her like Grace held Mara? To protect her the way Grace protected Mara?

Jarrod was on the other side of his daughter. He held her hand and told her she would be okay. He told her that whatever happened, she had them.

What would it be like to have a dad who said, “Whatever happens, you have me?”

Ireland had gone to bed that night feeling like someone had hollowed out her insides and placed them up on a high shelf where she couldn’t reach, leaving her empty and numb.

She crept to Mara’s door in the bathroom and knocked. “Mara? Mara, I’m sorry. It was an accident. It slipped out by accident. Mara? Please talk to me.”

“Boundaries! We are not friends, Ireland.”

Ireland hated that days later they still weren’t friends. The police had come by and taken a statement. Rowan’s parents had also come by. That had been weird. Ireland expected them to defend their son and to insist Mara take it all back. But they did the exact opposite. They apologized for him, said they were putting him into counseling, and asked what they could do to help Mara.

It was classy of them to take responsibility for what they could. Not everybody did that.

It had been on the third day after the clambake blowup that Ireland was cleaning in the kitchen. She’d hoped that she could Cinderella her way into not being kicked out of the house. They hadn’t been back to school. Thank the stars because Ireland could not take the back-and-forth drive with Mara’s frosty silence, only broken by the word “Boundaries!” thrown in intermittently.

Grace and Jarrod were letting Ireland do at-home study because Mara told them that Rowan had said some demeaning things to her as well. On top of that, they knew Tinsley had announced Ireland’s homelessness to everyone, and they also didn’t want Ireland to have to deal with all the drama of trying to answer questions about Mara. Ireland didn’t have a driver’s license, either. Because of all this, they figured both girls needed a break from in-real-life school. So they were keeping up on schoolwork from home, instead.

Ireland’s phone rang. She looked at it, expecting Kal’s name and number on the display screen. It was Humboldt Correctional Facility. It buzzed once more while she stared at it. A third time. Her finger swiped up and she answered.

“This call is from Humboldt County Correctional Facility and is subject to monitoring and recording. Do you accept the charges?”

Would she accept the charges? No. Yes?

She had money in the bank. Not a lot, but enough.

“Yes,” she said, surprised that her voice box worked.

“Hello? Hello?” Her dad’s voice sounded far away. But hadn’t he always been far away?

“Hi, Dad.”

“Ireland. How are you? How’s ... school?”

Had he ever in her life asked her about school? She glanced at the clock on the oven. If he’d been paying attention, he would have realized that she still should have been in class. That thought made her mad. “What do you want, Dad?”

He stammered. She could picture him raking his fingers through his hair—dark brown like hers. She could see him licking his lips. That was his tell when he was formulating a lie.

“I wanted to hear your voice.”

“I don’t have money to give you.” He needed that information right up front. It would keep him from making promises he wouldn’t keep if he knew she had nothing worth him bargaining over.

“I’m not asking for money.”

“So what do you want?”

“There’s no agenda. I just wanted to hear your voice and to say ... to say I’m sorry. For leaving like I did. That was not my best moment.”

Ireland blew out a breath and tossed the rag she’d been holding into the sink. “Definitely not your best. But hey, in the grand scheme of things, it is your typical moment.”

“I deserve that.”

“Not even close to what you deserve, Dad.”

“Are you safe?”

The question made her breath hitch. It was the concerned kind of question a parent should ask a child. “I am now .”

She heard his breath catch too. Her comment had hit its mark. She wanted him to know that she hadn’t been safe.

“I’m staying with a girl from school and her family,” she added. Not because he deserved to know, but because she couldn’t stop herself.

“Good. Good. I’m probably going to be here for a while. The lawyer did a good job though. He pled me down to a year.”

“What did you do?”

“Online romance con.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Ireland slumped against the kitchen counter in disbelief.

“What? I’m still attractive enough to make that viable.”

“I’m not questioning your looks, Dad. Your moral compass is seriously broken.”

“Yeah. I know. But hey ... I only have another minute. Would you be willing to come see me sometime?”

Ireland pressed her palm against her eye to relieve the pressure building there. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not promising anything.”

“’Course not. Understood. Just think about it.”

“Sure. I’ll think about it. I gotta go.” She hung up. Only then did she allow herself to sink to the floor and hold her head in her hands. “I am the worst,” she said to the kitchen. How did he do that? How did he make her feel guilty for not agreeing to visit immediately? “I am the absolute worst.”

“Absolute worst what?” Jade asked as she came into the kitchen.

Mara was with her and raised her eyebrows as she said, “Gettin’ no arguments from me on that.”

“Mara ...” Jade admonished her sister before turning back to Ireland. “Why are you on the floor? Are you okay? Are you sick?”

“Who’s sick?” This question came from Grace, who had only been a few steps behind her daughters.

“Ireland is,” Jade said at the same time that Ireland said, “No one.”

She scrambled to her feet to prove that she was fine.

“What happened?” Grace put her hand on Ireland’s arm.

The gentle touch shouldn’t have been a big deal. It certainly shouldn’t have shattered her emotionally, but Ireland burst into tears she couldn’t control. She instantly felt like an idiot since Mara was there observing the whole thing.

Grace pulled her into a hug like she had done with Mara just a few days before. She made soft shushing sounds, and when Ireland calmed enough, she asked, “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid. My dad called.”

“From jail? Or is he out?”

Ireland shook her head. “He’s still there. For the next year, I guess.”

“What did he say to upset you?” Grace looked thunderous, as if whatever Ireland told her was bad enough that she’d go to the jail personally to make him pay.

It shouldn’t have, but that made Ireland start crying all over again. “He didn’t say anything,” she said. “Not really. He asked me to go visit him.”

Grace stayed silent for a long moment. Jade had crept forward and tucked her hand inside Ireland’s. Mara watched her family comforting Ireland from the other side of the island.

Ireland wished she could turn off the waterworks. How stupid to cry over a guy who was a thief and a liar.

“Do you want to go see him?” Grace asked when it seemed Ireland had control over herself again.

“I don’t know. Is it wrong that I do? Even after everything? I mean the guy left me on my own with no way to take care of myself. Am I completely cracked in the head to want to see him?”

“No, baby. It’s not wrong. He’s your father. If you want to see him, Jarrod and I can take you. If you decide at any point you’ve changed your mind, we can turn around and come home, okay?”

Ireland nodded, her body shuddering with the after-effects of crying. By the time dinner came around that night, it was decided that they would go the next day to visit Ireland’s dad. It’s not like she’d be missing school since they had already planned to stay home. The teachers had all been generous with emailing the homework so Mara and Ireland didn’t get behind.

As plates were passed around the table, there was an open discussion about going to visit Ireland’s dad. The adults didn’t shy away from hard topics in an effort to hide anything from Jade. They might have softened the delivery, but Jarrod often said that open and honest communication was key to raising healthy, responsible, capable children. Dinner with the Washington family was like looking in on a living Norman Rockwell painting sometimes. They were the blueprint of what family should be.

It was decided that Jarrod would drive Ireland to the correctional facility so Grace could handle the scheduled interviews for a new employee at the café. Mara stayed quiet for most of the conversation until she finally said, “I don’t know why you’re going. It’s a toxic relationship. You should cut him out of your life.”

“I mean ... I don’t disagree,” Ireland said, feeling like she might choke on the almond-crusted salmon Jarrod had made. Mara, talking to her without any prodding from her parents? Miraculous. “And I’ve been thinking that same thing, especially since he called.”

“But you going is a brave thing,” Grace interjected. “It’s okay to cut the toxic people out of our lives. But not if we’re going to do it in anger or bitterness. Because that means we didn’t really cut them out. They’re still in our lives, manifesting themselves in our anger and bitterness. You are making a healthy choice, if it’s something you think you’re ready for.”

“Yeah,” Ireland said, feeling herself shrink under the unexpected praise. “I don’t want to be angry all the time. But I think I should cut him out in a way that wishes him well in his life and that allows me to move forward with mine. You know? Then I can say I’ve done what I needed to do. No guilt. At least, that’s how I think it should go. I’m not a therapist or anything, so really, what do I know?” Ireland took a deep breath and met Mara’s gaze.

Mara stared at her as if Ireland had grown an entire solar system out of her nose. “Some people don’t deserve our forgiveness,” she said.

“That’s true.” Ireland felt the sad wash over her again and again.

“It is true,” Jarrod agreed. “Some people don’t. But if Ireland is up for it, she deserves the peace that comes from moving forward.”

Mara could have been talking about not forgiving Rowan. Or she could have been talking about not forgiving Ireland.

Ireland knew she didn’t deserve unearned absolution from Mara. But she truly believed Mara deserved to feel peace.

I do too. Don’t I? Ireland felt like she did deserve the peace that came from her letting go of what her parents had done to her. She wanted to move on and couldn’t do that if she was feeling trapped in the emotional chaos that those people had inflicted on her. She wasn’t going to live like that anymore. Her life was hers, not theirs, and she was not about to give them another second of it unwillingly. How she lived would be her choice from now on.

The thought of Kal shoved itself to the front of her thoughts. Shouldn’t she work on forgiving him? Especially since she was guilty of betraying trust as much as he was? But for whatever reason, his betrayal felt worse. His betrayal reminded her of her dad’s. Kal’s manipulation of her life cut too deep. She wasn’t ready to forgive him just yet.

Mara looked perplexed, even hostile. She stabbed her salmon with her fork and continued to eat in silence.

Later that night, Ireland struggled to sleep. A tap came from the bathroom door. “Come in.” Ireland sat up.

Mara’s black hair was tied back in a ponytail. Her face was freshly washed. She hadn’t worn makeup of any kind for days, but Ireland was still getting used to her being natural. Mara’s beautiful features looked better without all the products. She wore black dance pants and an oversized orange hoodie with their school mascot on it. She sat on the chair at the desk near Ireland’s bed and pulled up her legs, tucking her feet underneath her. “I’m sorry about your dad. Your mom too, I guess.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“I was talking to my mom a little bit ago, and she was filling in some of the information about your dad and your mom and your life before you moved in. Sorry I didn’t know any of that before.”

“It’s not like knowing changes anything.”

“Maybe. But I wasn’t nice to you. My friends weren’t nice to you. We should have been.”

Ireland smoothed her hands over the white sheets, feeling the soft fibers of the high thread count under her fingertips. “Whether you know somebody’s backstory or not, shouldn’t you always be nice to them?”

Mara laughed. “Touché. You’re right. You’re right. I really let myself get caught up in the social scene. It sliced away pieces of me every time I turned around. Tinsley. Rowan. Half the student body. I had people with me almost all the time. But I felt so alone. And then there was you—actually alone. My mom and I were talking about it, and she let me know I could have been more sensitive to that. She’s not wrong. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mara. It’s not like I put out a get-to-know-me vibe. When you’ve moved around as much as I have from one con to the next, getting to know people just seems like a lot of work with not a lot of payout. That attitude feels like my dad talking. Everything for him was about the payout.”

“You still going to go see him tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I think I need to.”

They both went silent after that. After a moment, Mara spun in the chair, dropping her head back and closing her eyes as it went around. She stopped the spin and stood. “Okay then. I’ll go with you. I’ll see you in the morning.” She stood and strode to the door.

“Mara ... why are you talking to me?”

She stretched her arms up over her head and laced her hands behind her neck. “Because you’re right. Not forgiving you doesn’t hurt you. Well, it might. I don’t know. But I do know for sure that it hurts me. I could use a little peace right now. Besides, I actually forgave you a couple of days ago. I just wanted to punish you a little bit more, I think, because ... well, I don’t know why. What happened to me wasn’t your fault. And I know you didn’t mean to share it with the whole school. Tinsley did that. I’m working on the idea of forgiving her, but that one might take a little longer.”

“I really didn’t mean to tell anyone. I am sorry, Mara.”

She dropped her hands to the side and picked at the hem of her sweatshirt. “I know. I have a tendency to not say what’s bothering me. But I got some good advice the other day, and I think I need to start paying attention to it.”

“What advice?”

“A friend told me to howl out loud.” Mara left, closing the door behind her.

Ireland was now sitting up straight in bed. Did Mara know that Ireland wrote that message to her? Was this her way of saying, “Hey, I know that was you?”

Or was it just that the message mattered, and Mara had taken it to heart enough to pass it on?

Either way, Ireland felt like everything was going to be okay. Whatever happened with her dad, the next day was going to be fine because she had a friend she could depend on.