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Back Never Look Back Save as PDF
Chapters (51)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. One
  4. Two
  5. Three
  6. Four
  7. Five
  8. Six
  9. Seven
  10. Eight
  11. Nine
  12. Ten
  13. Eleven
  14. Twelve
  15. Thirteen
  16. Fourteen
  17. Fifteen
  18. Sixteen
  19. Seventeen
  20. Eighteen
  21. Nineteen
  22. Twenty
  23. Twenty-One
  24. Twenty-Two
  25. Twenty-Three
  26. Twenty-Four
  27. Twenty-Five
  28. Twenty-Six
  29. Twenty-Seven
  30. Twenty-Eight
  31. Twenty-Nine
  32. Thirty
  33. Thirty-One
  34. Thirty-Two
  35. Thirty-Three
  36. Thirty-Four
  37. Thirty-Five
  38. Thirty-Six
  39. Thirty-Seven
  40. Thirty-Eight
  41. Thirty-Nine
  42. Forty
  43. Forty-One
  44. Forty-Two
  45. Forty-Three
  46. Acknowledgments
  47. P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*
  48. About the Author
  49. About the Book
  50. Also by Alison Gaylin
  51. About the Publisher

It’s Father’s Day. That’s why Gabriel is mad. Because it’s Father’s Day and he doesn’t have a father. He’s always said that his dad left his mom for a dancer, but apparently, that’s just another lie. He’d said it to “save face,” he told me. It was his mother who was the cheater. His dad left because he found out she’d been having an affair with a married man for years and years—and guess what? She still is. A few days before I broke up with him, Gabriel found a box at the bottom of his mother’s closet. Inside was a necklace, a sexy nightgown, and a letter from the married man she’s having an affair with—Gabriel’s real father. In it, he says to Linda, “Take good care of our son. But don’t ever let your husband know.”

I think that was what drove Gabriel crazy, not me. I think the lava started bubbling up inside him when he found that box, and then when I broke up with him, it was an excuse to explode.

Gabriel’s mom and her lover have a code: She calls him twice. The first time, she hangs up after one ring. The second time, she hangs up after two. They meet at an Arco station in San Bernardino and they usually go to a motel from there, but not always. Sometimes, they just sit somewhere and talk. If she calls on a weekday, he goes to the gas station during his lunch break. If she does it on a Sunday, they meet after church. Gabriel learned some of this from the letter, some of it from putting “one and two together.” That’s what he said. One and two. He doesn’t even know the right expression.

It’s a Sunday today and it’s Father’s Day, and this morning, Gabriel called his real father from the pay phone downstairs. One hang-up after one ring. Another hang-up after two. After he made the call, he spent the rest of Ed Hart’s money on a shotgun. He bought it from a guy on our floor who I think is a gang member. The shotgun is in the back seat of the powder blue Accord, strapped in like a passenger. We are driving to the Arco station. Neither one of us speaks, and it’s an awful, ugly silence.

When Gabriel told me the story about his father, he was crying. He said it was the first time he’d ever said it all out loud. “Baby Blue, you are the only person in the world who I can trust with the truth.” He said this. Gabriel did. The boy who killed my entire family.

I don’t have a father either, Gabriel. Have you thought about that?