Megan Hart: Switch

He hadn't seen her in years, and I looked like him, but I

smiled. "Thanks."

"She was so beautiful, you wouldn't believe it. She knew

just how to make a cup of coffee, too, my God, that

woman was a wizard." He drifted into memories, no longer

seeing me.

I wasn't impressed with his recolection. She was pretty

and made good coffee. Nice. What about she was smart,

kind, generous, funny? That she made a wicked meat loaf

and could stretch a budget so thin you could see through it,

but stil come up with the cash for a new pair of sneakers

or a birthday cake.

"My first wife didn't realy understand me."

I groaned. "Oh, Jesus, Dad. God."

I got out of the car and slammed the door. I didn't want to

listen to his crock-of-shit explanations for why he'd fucked

his secretary, knocked her up and left her to raise their kid

alone. I didn't want to hear his reasons for being unfaithful.

Maybe if he'd married my mother, if the story had become

a fairy tale with a happily-ever-after, with me, their pretty

princess, in a white dress and white patent-leather shoes

princess, in a white dress and white patent-leather shoes

with a pony and a clown at her birthday party, I might

have cared. I might have listened. But as it was, I turned

my back and tried to leave him behind.

My dad got of the car, too. "Paige!"

There had been few occasions when my dad had to raise

his voice tone. I'd always been so terrified he'd stop loving

me, I'd never misbehaved. My feet stiled automaticaly,

but I didn't turn.

He caught up to me and reached for my arm, but didn't

grab it when I glared. "Paige. Wait a minute."

"Dad, realy. I have to get inside. I promised Mom I'd stop

by and I have to get home to take care of Arty."

He looked blank.

"Arty. My brother." I didn't add the "half." "He's in an afterschool-care program, but I have to get back in time to

pick him up."

He looked up again at the building, then back at me. "I

don't think I'd better go in there. But wil you tel her I

asked about her?"

asked about her?"

"Of course." I paused, then decided not to hold back.

"You know, Dad, she's been laid off from the factory for

the past couple months. I don't know what her insurance is

like, but I'm sure she could use some money."

"Did she tel you to ask me that?"

I'd been annoyed before, but now his quick suspicion

pissed me off. "No. She wouldn't. But you have it, and she

needs it."

My dad shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and

looked at the ground. "How much does she need?"

"How much can you spare for someone you say you

loved?" I shot back, not caring if I made him mad.

He looked up at me. "You realy don't know the story,

Paige."

"I don't have to know it, Dad."

We faced each other over cracked concrete and neither of

us moved. My father sighed and stretched his neck back

and forth, then tossed up his hands. "If I give you a check,

and forth, then tossed up his hands. "If I give you a check,

wil you give it to her?"

"Yes, sure. Of course I wil."

He eyed me, then leaned back into the car and fumbled

around before puling out a checkbook. He scribbled

hastily and tore it off, then pressed it into my hand as

though he was afraid he might change his mind and take it

back. I didn't look at it, just tucked it in half inside my

palm. My dad could be generous, but I didn't want to

know, just then, if he'd made me proud or disappointed

me.

"And tel her…tel her I was asking about her. Okay?"

"Yes, Dad."

"How about you? You need anything?" He held up the

checkbook, but I waved it away.

"No. I'm fine. I'm going to be getting a new job."

He looked impressed. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm going to be in a new marketing program."

"Wil they give you a raise?" He didn't wait for an answer.

"It's about time they recognized your potential at that

place. Gave you a step-up."

"Nobody's giving me a step-up. I interviewed, I'm

qualified. It's not a favor, Dad."

"Of course it isn't." He tucked the checkbook into his

jacket pocket. "I didn't mean that it was."

I straightened my shoulders. "I'd better get inside."

My dad held open his arms as if he expected a hug. I gave

him one, stiff armed as it was, and he kissed my cheek. He

squeezed my shoulder.

"I'm proud of you, Paige. You should know that."

I shrugged and smiled and left before he could get

sentimental. When I gave my mom the check, she stared at

it for a long time before she unfolded it. She blinked

rapidly when she saw whatever he'd written, then folded it

tight again and handed it to me.

"Would you put that in my purse in the drawer, there, hon?

I'l have to get you to run it to the bank for me later." Her

I'l have to get you to run it to the bank for me later." Her

voice stil sounded hoarse but her color was better, and

she was sitting up. She'd brushed her hair and held it back

from her face with a pretty headband.

"Aren't you surprised at al?" I put the check inside her

walet and closed the drawer.

"At what? That you were able to shame your dad into

helping me out? Or at how much he gave?"

"Both?" I didn't ask her how she'd known I'd been the one

to force his hand.

My mom smiled and patted the side of the bed. "Come

here, Paige."

I did.

"I never told you why your dad and me never made it."

I sighed. "Mom, I realy don't care. I know al the experts

would say it traumatized me for life."

"Hush," she ordered, and I fel silent. "Me and your dad, when we met…wel, it was realy good. Right off the bat. I

knew he wasn't happy at home, and not because he told

knew he wasn't happy at home, and not because he told

me. I'd had plenty of guys tel me al about how their wives

didn't understand them, or how their marriages had been

over for a long time before I came along. I knew what I

was looking at. It wasn't your dad who came after me,

Paige. I went after him."

"Mom. I realy don't want to know."

"Wel, I want to tel you," she said. "So shut up and let me do it, or I swear I'l come back and haunt you if I die."

"Stop. You're not going to die for a long, long time." I told her and squeezed her hand.

"So I fel for this guy so hard it was like someone had

snuck up behind me and shoved me down a flight of stairs.

I just thought he was the handsomest, most special,

smartest…sexiest…"

I grimaced. "Okay, I get it. You were into my dad."

"Oh, no. Not your dad," my mother said. "Denny. Me and your dad used to go out after work sometimes for drinks.

He needed to get away from home, for whatever reason, I

guess it was because he wife was a ful-on bitch, but

guess it was because he wife was a ful-on bitch, but

whatever. Me and him and Dennis used to go out after

work and just hang out."

"Denny?" I shook my head, thinking of my dad's longtime

buddy. "But…you and dad…and…wait a minute.

Denny?"

"Oh, sure. Denny." She gave a happy sigh. "He was so

handsome. I was crazy about Denny."

"But what happened?"

"Wel," my mother said, "as it happened, Denny wasn't as crazy about me. I caught him stepping out on me with

some whore he picked up at the Downtown Lounge on

dolar draft nights. What with one thing and then another,

with your dad not happy at home and me brokenhearted

about Denny, we sort of just turned to one another."

I got up from the bed and paced the narrow corridor