56. willow
CHAPTER 56
WILLOW
TELL ME THINGS
A few days later, during a coach’s luncheon, my mom and I hung out in the garden to video chat with my brothers and my dad. It was all five of us talking, catching up with each other before my mom was requested again.
"The heat’s not that bad," I laughed. "Practice is so early. It’s only midday that it gets painful."
My dad grinned. "Eighty here."
"Don’t Bostonians melt at that temperature?"
His grin faltered, and he told the boys he needed a minute before he went inside. The door closed behind him. "Willie Low, you’re not coming to Boston, are you?"
It was quiet.
"Dad, it’s not like I don’t miss you," I said, my throat tight.
"I miss you too."
More silence. I took the kind of breath that’s supposed to start at the bottom of your lungs but makes you feel like you didn’t take one in the first place. Slowly, I told him all of the reasons I needed to stay in Houston. There were so many of them and I ended with the one I could only say while my mom was gone.
"Mom and I are finally bridging that gap. I feel like if I leave, I’d give that up."
"Your mom’s always going to love you."
"I know but?—"
"If you come here, there’s a cottage the school lets the facility rent, a lovely kitchenette, stone fireplace, real hardwood floors. You wouldn’t have to pay a dime. It’d be your own place, you wouldn’t have to worry about your old man’s nose hairs in the sink."
"It sounds great but?—"
"You can be a music major here."
My eyes slid to his. "Dad."
Even more silence.
When I grew up, my dad’s big love for poetry pushed him to tour all over the country, but in the end, he had to take up teaching anyway. It was a constant reminder in our house to always have a backup plan. A music degree wouldn’t be a backup plan. It’d be lying on the train tracks.
"Yeah, you’re right," he said softly. "But there’s a great music scene. You love playing in those rock bands. No shortage of those here." He paused. "You wouldn’t have to see Tattoos anymore."
"Dad, we made up?—"
"We’ll see how long that lasts."
I struggled with my reply. Now that King and I were in an actual relationship, my dad wasn’t subtle about how much he didn’t see it lasting longer than Austin. For the hundredth time, I wished I hadn't told him everything I did, but back then I didn’t have anyone to talk to.
"I’m going to tell Mom," I whispered.
"Good luck with that. He has tattoos, enjoys silent treatments, and I’m positive he’s a drug addict. She’ll love him."
" Dad. "
"Do you know how many football players I’ve had in my classes? How many people demanded me to grade them better so they could slide through? Can this kid even read?"
"He’s reading your book right now. After practice, they call him in for interviews, and he’s behind the curtain, reading your book. He’s excited to meet you?—"
"He left my daughter in tears. Excuse me if I’m not rolling out the red carpet."
I squeezed my eyes shut. "Please."
"If he wants my seal of approval, tell him to build a time machine."
"Dad, I thought you could…help me figure out how to tell Mom…"
"Ask me for anything else. Ask me for a billion dollars. Ask me for a kidney. Ask me to burn my books. Anything else."
"This makes me not want to tell you things. You have to know that."
I couldn’t remember the last time the two of us were at odds like this. We were so close. Slowly, his face softened. "Oh, baby. I don’t want you to keep things from me."
I checked the time, lunch would be wrapping up soon. Thank god. I’d been putting in the work with Dan all day and I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was meet my friends and finally get to see King again.
"You’re loved," my dad promised me.
"I love you so much—I have to go, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow."
"I’m sorry, Willie Low. I don’t want you to hide things from me."
We finished up the goodbyes, but I knew he wasn’t sorry about what he said, just the fact that it upset me so much.
But he was right.
King was going to be a hard sell to my mom, even if she worked with football players. Actually, especially because she worked with football players. I thought my dad would’ve been on my side though. It stung that he refused.
My phone pinged
King
Let me know when youre ready to go
Ill call a car
Me
The van’s going to drop me off but should be another ten minutes :]
King
Awesome
Miss you angel
Three words had my stomach doing Tony Hawk moves.
After so much back and forth nonsense, it was constant affirmation now. Constant texts, constant whispered praises. And the moment we were alone together after we snuck into the same room, I couldn’t walk two steps without him carrying me to bed. The sex we had was so good but post-sex was everything I didn’t know I needed. The two of us tangled in the sheets, talking together while he stroked my back, holding me close.
It was so good. I wanted it to last.
Even if my dad’s words vibrated in my brain.
"Hey," my mom whispered when I walked through the door. "So…?"
"Hm?"
"Did you two…have a chance to talk?"
I nodded.
"Because when I finished my book, I missed so much, and it’s not like I’m trying to get that exactly back, and I know you’ve always been your dad’s girl, but?—"
I stumbled a little on my heels, trying to keep up with her while I fought down the embarrassment. Of course she knew we were close. Of course . But I never heard her actually acknowledge it and it was a jab in the stomach to hear out loud.
"I’m not trying to pick sides, Mom."
"I want you to stay here, that’s what I’m trying to say."
"I’m staying."
She breathed out a sigh of relief and pulled me into a quick hug.
I hugged her back but if I was really honest, I hadn’t always been my dad’s best friend. That came from high school.
"Dad and I are close because we have common interests," I said gently, pulling away from her. "We were making album covers together, and translating his poetry, and going to open mics. Kenan and Embry have really big interests too, and if you want to get closer to them, I know we can?—"
She snagged my elbow, pulling me back. " What? "
"What?"
"Open mics?"
Oh, shit.
"Um…yes."
"What do you mean?" My mom frowned, studying me. "Your dad used to take me to those but back then, they were poetry readings at bars and clubs—" There was a poignant pause between us. "Willow?"
"I—I?—"
"It was…an open mic at a library? A cafe? "
I swallowed.
She held up a hand. "Don’t tell me your father took his daughter to bars. "
"They wouldn’t serve me anyway?—"
"How old were you?"
"Mom—"
" Marcus, " she muttered, looking away from me. "I don’t care if they didn’t serve you! You were in school! You shouldn’t have been anywhere near those places—is that why you failed biology? Where were the boys during all of this?!"
"Grandpa was watching over them?—"
"You could’ve been hurt!"
"Ladies?" Dan walked over, a hopeful smile on his face. "Are we ready for dessert?"
My mom’s shoulders immediately relaxed, and it was so awful watching that. Watching her immediately become comfortable with him because it was so tense with the two of us.
"Mom, I didn’t mean to say that," I whispered. "It was an occasional Thursday."
"It’s not your fault, Willow, you were a child."
I heard the implication under her words.
"It wasn’t his fault either, it wasn’t anyone’s fault, it was something we did together and—and?—"
There was no point in the argument. The only thing I could do was sit next to them at the table, trying not to feel even shittier.
I pulled out my phone and typed up a quick message to King.
Me
You have no idea how much I can’t wait to see you too