Chapter 17: No Thank You

My parents came to Orchard Street on Tuesday night, at eight, and knocked like strangers.

Cal was at my stove with a dish towel over his shoulder, burning the edges of a grilled cheese.

The bruise on his cheekbone had gone yellow-green.

"I can leave," he said, low.

"Stay."

I opened the door.

My mother had her hair done, which meant she had cried and then fixed it.

My father held a manila envelope against his chest.

"May we come in?" my mother asked.

"You can come in as far as the mat."

They stood on the mat.

Behind me I heard Cal turn off the burner.

"Shanna," my father said. He cleared his throat twice. "We've returned the money. All of it. Here are the receipts, and the letter from the bank."

He held out the envelope, and I took it.

"The pastor asked me to step down as deacon. I did, before he finished the sentence."

"All right."

"We've talked to Maisie's doctors. We'll pay for whatever the insurance doesn't. Whatever you need for the surgery, the time off, the..."

"Dad."

"We want to make it right," my mother said.

She had her hands twisted together in front of her.

"Come home after. Please. Both of you girls. We'll put the old room back. We'll do your birthday, Shanna, a real one, with a cake."

My father nodded hard.

"We were wrong. We said so. In front of everybody."

"You did," I said.

"We'd like to be your parents."

I looked at them for a long moment.

It was the first time in my life that I had both of them standing in front of me, asking.

I had waited my whole life for it, and now that it was here I found that I was calm.

"No, thank you," I said.

My mother blinked.

"Shanna..."

"I'm going to give my sister part of my liver on Friday. That's my gift, and it has nothing to do with you."

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