Complicated Girl (Baker Street Romance #2)(32)
Author: Mimi Strong

I turn and look at my mother to see if she can understand anything that’s happen.

“Your father called today,” my mother says. “He says to wish a belated birthday to Teenie, and an early one to you for next month.”

I look down at my body and see that I have very small knees and legs. All of me is small. I’m turning twelve, I think.

“That man has no balls,” my mother says, shaking her head.

“No balls,” says Aunt Jane.

The two men sitting on either side of my mother turn to me and say, in unison, “I’m sorry your father has no balls.”

I scream about them, “Shut up about my father!”

They stare at me with disgust.

I raise my tiny, weak arm slowly, pointing my finger at my mother. “You drove him away.”

She leans over to get a cigarette from one handsome man, then has the other light it. My mother hasn’t smoked in over a decade. I’ll have to talk to her about this smoking thing. She takes a deep drag and lets it out as she says, “How would you know I drove him away? You were just a tiny baby.”

“Aunt Jane told me.”

My mother turns to look up at her sister. “Is that true?”

Aunt Jane takes a cigarette for herself and sucks it down to the filter in a single inhale. “She’s your kid. How the hell should I know what goes on in her head? The other one’s fine. This one came out funny. You had them too close together. I told you, you shouldn’t have had this one, but you found out too late.”

I’m so furious with Aunt Jane, I could throttle her, but my little twelve-year-old hands wouldn’t even fit around her neck. I reach under my chair and find an entire birthday cake. I pick it up and throw it in her face.

She melts into a puddle and disappears.

My mother looks at the puddle and says, “I wish someone would have done that years ago.”

“Why are you here?” I ask.

She gets another cigarette. “You tell me.”

“I’m lost, Mom. I should have gone to Europe with you. My life here is no good. I need a foreigner.”

“What about that nice boy you’re dating? The dentist? I like him.”

“Teenie made me break up with him.”

“Meenie, don’t lie to me. I can always tell.”

“Fine. I broke up with him.”

Thunder rumbles. We take a break from our conversation while a herd of elephants runs through the room on their way to an investment workshop.

“Mom, is it because of you and Aunt Jane that I’m always such a ball buster?”

“This is your dream, so you tell me.”

Feather, still sitting in her regular spot in the circle, waves her hand. We turn to her, and she says, “It might be a form of overcompensating for your lack of feeling feminine, to attack a guy’s masculinity.”

My mother nods in agreement. “That’s why she gets paid to listen to everyone’s nonsense.”

The other group members mumble their agreement with Feather.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” I ask Feather. “Wear more dresses and lipstick? Will that make me nice?”

Feather gets up from her chair, both babies still held to her bosom. She’s about twenty feet tall now. “I’m going to let my assistant field this one.”

I blink, and suddenly there’s a new person sitting in Feather’s chair.

It’s me.

Me, but with a better wardrobe. I’m wearing really nice boots, and my hair falls in soft, perfect ringlets.

“Dresses won’t help,” says Better Me.

“Thanks for nothing. I guess I’ll just stock up on rescue cats.”

“Meenie, you don’t get it, do you?” Better Me gets a very smug look on her face. Is that how I really look when I feel smug? I want to throttle myself.

Through gritted teeth, I start to ask the question. It’s very difficult to say the words, but I need to know the truth.

At first, only a growl comes out. But I keep trying, and finally I say, “What’s my problem?”

Better Me sits up straight, the smugness gone. She is open and vulnerable. She looks terrified. I want to hug her.

“You keep testing them,” she says softly. “Many of them fail your test, and you’re so used to them failing, that when one passes your test, you fail him anyway.”

“Drew? He passed my test?”

“You pushed him away. You showed him how mean you could be, and he still invited you to dinner. He didn’t close the door. You did.”

I wake up.

It’s nearly eight o’clock.

I reach for my phone. Drew’s number’s not on here. Or his address.

The numbers flash in my head. I can see myself writing down his address for the delivery. I know the street and the block. I’ll just drive until I see his car.

I run out of the house, wearing the clothes I was sleeping in.

It’s starting to rain.

I get in the car and drive to Drew’s neighborhood.

My eyes are open, now that I’m willing to see.

I get to his block, and I see his car, but then I see it again. And again. There are three cars on this block that could be his, and I still can’t remember the final digit of his address.

The cold autumn rain is coming down hard when I get out of the car and run to the first house.

Nobody answers the door.

I run to the second house.

The door is answered by a sweet elderly couple who invite me in for tea to warm up. I thank them, and run back out into the rain.

I’m breathless when I knock on the final door.

It opens… to a house full of people in dressy clothes, drinking wine and laughing. A serious-looking woman holds the door, staring curiously at my drenched clothes.

“You’ll catch your death of cold,” she says. “Come in, come in.”

“Is this Drew Morgan’s house?”

The woman calls over her shoulder. “Drew!”

I start backing away, but she grabs my arm and hauls me in. “You’re Megan, aren’t you? He’ll fire me if I let you get away.”

The door shuts behind me. I shiver. Now I’m trapped in an entryway with a woman who knows who I am.

“How do you know who I am?” I demand.

She chuckles. “You’re the one who pulled her dental cap off with a pair of pliers. I’m Drew’s office manager. I know everything.”

“Everything?”

She gives me a serious look. “He’s a good guy. You’d better not break his heart again, or you’ll have to deal with me.”