“I could see you were unhappy,” I say instead.
“I knew I was unhappy.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
Her laugh has no pleasure in it. “Because I loved him. Because I was embarrassed. Because I wanted to say one thing without you telling me to leave before I got to the end.”
I sit back.
“Sometimes I just wanted to be upset for a minute,” she says. “I didn’t need a decision yet.”
I think of myself on the way here, rehearsing what I would tell her, hoping she would let me finish. It seems a great deal to ask now.
“I could have listened longer,” I say.
Rae folds the towel she has been holding. “Yes.”
I let her keep that answer.
My bag is by the lamp. The envelope inside it is no thicker than it was in the closet, but I can’t stop being aware of it.
“There’s another reason I came tonight.”
She looks at the bag when I reach for it.
“I need to tell you about your biological father.”
She leaves the towel on her lap. “What about him?”
“More than I’ve told you.”
“Did something happen?”
I pull the envelope out. I had imagined starting gently. Her question takes that away.
“A long time ago.”
She gets up from the floor and sits beside me, leaving a cushion between us. I put the envelope in that space.
“His name was Gavin,” I say. “He was nineteen when we started seeing each other. I was sixteen.”
Rae watches me.
“I thought we were in love. I knew he could go places I had to ask permission to go. He had a car and a job, and I thought being included in his life meant I was ready for it.”
“Was he your boyfriend?”
“I thought he was.”
She looks at the envelope.
“I knew I was pregnant before the pageant. I told him from the phone in your grandmother’s kitchen. She was at work.”
I can see the cord stretched past the table, how far I could move before I had to stop. I keep my eyes on my daughter.
“He asked whether it was his. Then he said I was lying. Then he wanted to know what kind of girl got herself into that situation.”
Rae’s face changes.