No more secrets. Tonya mentally repeated her new motto as she watched Layla twist the fine threads of the friendship bracelet on her wrist. Her daughter’s nervous fidget was the only sign of the momentousness of what they were about to do—what Tonya was poised to give up.
She reached out to Layla’s head and tucked a clump of wavy hair behind her ear. Sunlight glinted on the copper strands in Layla’s blond mane, reminding Tonya of the sea at dawn when water took on the sky’s red and gold hues. In the past couple of months, the sun had also added freckles to her kid’s nose, which was finally unmasked thanks to Layla’s twelfth birthday and the vaccines that were now widely available for anyone of middle-school age and up.
A glance around the park revealed how the world was transitioning out of the worst of the pandemic. Adults and older children were reveling in their maskless freedom. They turned their faces to the sky and seemed to fill their chests with river-scented air. They sat on the grass beneath the Brooklyn Bridge within arm’s reach of one another, confident that the shots for which they’d all scoured the internet and waited in lines spanning city blocks would prevent them from contracting anything deadly or debilitating, if not from contracting the virus completely.
Young children could not yet enjoy such liberties. Tonya watched a pair of elementary schoolers sprint through the park, the bottom halves of their faces covered in rainbow paper masks. Despite the gear, there seemed to be a new lightness about these kids. They grasped the handles of playground equipment without looking over their shoulders for parents with a waiting bottle of hand sanitizer. New Yorkers, always a devil-may-care bunch, had returned to their former state, accepting the danger that accompanied regularly interacting with strangers.
The hopeful atmosphere made Tonya feel even more certain about her decision to come clean. Though she was by no means well-off, she’d managed to keep a roof over her and Layla’s heads using her unemployment checks—though that roof had been in a basement Bushwick apartment nearly an hour away from Layla’s school. Her new restaurant job and the salary bump she’d negotiated due to the shortage of returning hospitality workers would give her a cushion as she and her daughter—hopefully—moved into a place closer to Brooklyn Heights.
Tonya felt her daughter stiffen beside her. She followed Layla’s gaze to see Rick entering the park. He appeared tan and handsome, which Tonya was surprisingly thankful for. Layla looked like her father’s side of the family. It was better for her daughter not to fear what that meant.
“Is that him?” Layla whispered.
“Get behind me,” Tonya answered.
Once Layla was hidden, Tonya raised her hand to wave Rick over. The movement stretched the deep scar on her side, making the wound itch and throb. Still, she kept her hand up. The Rick Redsell she knew was a liar and a coward; she needed him to come to her before he spied Layla and ran down the street.
Rick’s brow rose as he noticed her signaling. He strode over, all swagger and expensive clothing, no doubt ready to bully her about remaining silent a bit longer for the apartment down payment. Tonya braced herself for his reaction when he realized that she couldn’t be bought anymore. Blackmailing Nate to fund a scholarship for Layla had provided the tie to his murder that had nearly gotten her killed. She was done selling her silence.
As Rick drew within a foot’s distance, Tonya stepped to the side, revealing her daughter. Her ex’s dropped jaw advertised that he knew exactly who he was looking at. Layla had the hair color that he’d probably possessed as a child. She had his eyes. Even the shape of their faces was similar, though Layla had the younger, feminine version.
“Rick Redsell, please meet Layla Sayre, your daughter,” Tonya said.
His focus shifted from Layla’s to Tonya’s face. Though he didn’t speak, Tonya could read his thoughts from the intensity of his stare. Did she know how much he stood to lose by her revealing his identity? Did she know what she’d lose?
“Nearly dying helped me gain perspective on my life, and who I was helping and hurting with my secrets,” she explained. “Layla deserves to know who her father is, and you should pay child support—on the books. Everything needs to be aboveboard.”
“I—”
Tonya held up a hand, not wanting him to say anything that could potentially devastate her child. “I understand how this changes things, and it’s fine. We only want what you’re legally required to provide. I won’t keep quiet anymore. It’s not fair to Layla or your ex. It’s not even fair to you because you’re missing out on this wonderful person standing right in front of you. And I think, if you give her a chance, you’ll find that knowing her is worth so much more than keeping any secret.”
She met Rick’s hard stare with one of her own, one filled with what Tonya had come to understand about herself. She was more than a victim who manipulated men after the fact to regain some sort of equal footing. She was a fighter. Though she’d been gravely injured, she’d fought to be heard in that dark room banging on the pipes. She’d battled to rebuild her and Layla’s life in a different neighborhood on very little money while struggling to physically recover. She’d pushed and shoved her way into a new job that would pay enough to support her and her daughter. And she would fight Rick for what he owed her. More than that, she would win.
Rick seemed to sense her new resolve. He nodded solemnly and turned his attention to Layla. Her body was trembling with anticipation. Tonya could see the emotions in the shaking hand that Layla extended in front of her.
“Nice to meet you,” she said.
Rick smiled. “Hi, Layla. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long.”