The smile she’s had plastered on her face all day quickly dissolves. She begins shaking her head as if there’s a memory she doesn’t want flooding back. “Oh, Mandy, that was such a horrible time. I don’t think I can talk about it. It’s just … Your father and I loved you very much, but things weren’t working out for us. We separated. Your father was supposed to drop you off one day, and he was late.” She stares off into the distance. “I didn’t think anything of it at first. I went about doing laundry and making dinner. I called Dan on his cell, but he didn’t pick up. By dinnertime I kept calling and calling, and he wouldn’t answer. I didn’t know what to do. I called the police. They weren’t concerned at first since you were with one of your parents. But I knew he took you. I knew.” Tears begin running down her face.

I hate that I had to bring this memory back, but I need to hear it from her. This is part of my history. The history that had been taken from me, and I need to know about it all, even the most devastating parts.

“Were things that bad between you?” I press.

“What did your father say?” Paula asks, her voice hard. “Didn’t you talk to him?”

The options of how much to share weigh in my head. I don’t think I need to remind her of how I had thought she was dead until a week ago and that I apparently preferred my dad when I was younger. “I only got to see him once while he was in custody. He said you guys were separated. Did you end up getting a divorce?”

She laughs bitterly. “You bet I got a divorce from that son of a bitch.” I flinch when she curses Dad, but Paula doesn’t notice. “Since he was missing, I had to get something called a divorce by publication, which meant I had to put an ad in the paper. Because he hadn’t humiliated me enough. I want to make something clear to you: I had every intention of splitting custody with your father before he took you. Unlike him, I’m not a selfish asshole.”

I suck in air. Of course Paula was going to hate Dad for what he did. But still … My dad may be many things, but I lived with him my entire life until a week ago. He is not selfish. “Dad did everything for me,” I say.

“Oh, please.”

“No, he—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Mandy.”

“It’s Ally,” I remind her. “And I really need you to hear this. Please.”

She lets out an annoyed breath but doesn’t argue with me.