35. Tessa
35
Tessa
I tried to anticipate what coming home would be like. I tried to plan out my every response beforehand and made myself sick worrying about how my dad would receive me. But in the end, none of that really mattered. The only thing I felt when we pulled up to my house was the horrible emptiness of watching Shep back out of the driveway.
Mama was more than excited to see me, but I could tell her reaction was tame in the face of my dad. She’s always going to stand in solidarity with him and that’s fine. It’s just something I’ve come to understand about them. It’s comforting, at least, that they’re predictable.
His fall required surgery, but Daddy didn’t handle it well and has been confined to a wheelchair. Seeing the small changes they’ve made around the house so he can get around left me feeling more than a little embarrassed. I was off “chasing my dreams” while my parents had to transform their downstairs into a hospital room. I didn’t comment on the ramp at our back door or the pain medicine on the counter, but my eyes strayed there every so often.
He isn’t openly hostile, but my dad wears a distant expression every time he glances my way. I try to smile through it, even though the conversation at dinner is stilted. We wait until he goes to bed before we sit together on the couch. My mom drapes an arm around my shoulders and smooths the blanket over my knee.
“I’m so glad you’re home,” she says, meaning it.
Wrinkling my nose, I reply, “Daddy isn’t, though.”
I notice the corners of her eyes tighten. “He is, he just doesn’t know how to show it. You gave us a lot to think about.”
“I’m sorry, Mama.”
“Quit apologizing. It’s in the past now, honey. Doesn’t do any good to dwell on it.”
“Is he okay?”
“He will be. He’ll have to walk with a cane, but he’s strong. You can’t keep him down for long.” Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
She pulls away to reach for the remote. We sit for a while in silence, but I watch her in my periphery. It’s not just my dad who looks older, she does too. She’s still beautiful, but with a few more lines on her face. She’s elegant and refined, but somehow aged since I left and shame turns my stomach for likely being the cause of it all.
When I can’t stand noticing anymore, I go into the kitchen and bring back two glasses of wine. The bottle was open and I have the sneaking suspicion that a glass or two will help me let her back in. Maybe it’ll do the same for her.
“Since when did you start drinking wine?” she asks as I hand her the glass.
“Since Houston. There was the most incredible store down the street from Shep’s apartment so we’d go there sometimes.”
“I imagine you’re going to miss it.” She has no idea. I put on a brave face.
“Yeah, but I have things to look forward to here.”
Her dark green eyes cut to me. “Bullshit.”
“Mama!” I scold, but a snicker slips out. “Since when did you start talkin’ that way?” It’s only been a few hours and my voice slips right back into its Georgia accent, I wonder if she notices.
She shrugs a shoulder and turns her attention back to the TV. “You said it yourself, some things have changed.” The hint of a smile tips her lips upwards.
“I do have things to look forward to, you know. I’m going to get Beau back.”
Her face crinkles with genuine happiness before she says, “I wondered if that was part of your plan. That’s good, baby.”
“Well, that’s not my only reason for coming back.”
“Oh?”
I inclined my head towards the guest room down the hall where my father sleeps. “I came back for y’all too.”
“Sure you did.” Her grin is good-natured, though I hear the sarcasm.
“I did! You really scared me when you called. I never thought it would be about something so serious. I just thought… When I saw your name pop up, I thought maybe you just wanted to hear my voice or something.”
Everything about her softens. “Oh honey, I did.”
“I know, but the point is, I didn’t think about how much help you and Daddy would need. And I feel like a pretty terrible person for not being here when I should have.” She watches me spill what’s in my heart. “I just didn’t want you to think he was the only reason I’m home.”
“I would love to be selfish and keep all your love to myself, but we don’t get that opportunity as mothers. You have to find the one other person in the world that deserves it and give it to them. You’ll have to watch your kids do the same one day.” She pats my knee again and I take a sip of wine to hide the tears threatening to fall. “So don’t feel bad that you came back for Beau. I don’t, I’m just glad you’re here.”
My weak smile isn’t enough thanks, but it’s all I can muster. “Mama?” Just one more thing.
“Hmm?”
“I still don’t want the store.” I have to tell her. I didn’t have the courage in front of my dad, but I can tell her. That’s something.
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“Do you think Daddy knows?”
“I’m sure he does, but he’ll probably still need to hear it from you.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
At my grimace, she says cheerily, “Buck up, buttercup. No one said life was going to be easy.”
I wake to the sensation of choking, gasping and drenched in sweat. The sheets are damp all around me and I pound the mattress with my fist. Fuck, not again. I never see his face, but I don’t need to. I know it’s him. I’m home, aren’t the dreams supposed to stop? Even when they’re more memory than dream, that makes lying here all the more pathetic, pining for a man who isn’t mine anymore.
I can’t keep doing this. I’m exhausted, not to mention frustrated. Every dream ends before I can find release. I’m too tired to even find the bag with my vibrator in it. Tomorrow, I tell myself. Tomorrow I’ll try again to seek him out.
I reach for my phone, plugged in on the nightstand, and dial. It used to be Peyton I’d call first when I needed to talk and it’s disconcerting that I didn’t think of her this time. But there’s only one voice I need to hear.
Shep answers on the third ring, sounding breathy but alert. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, couldn’t sleep.”
“Dreams again?” Soft shuffling noises come through the phone and I can picture him shifting onto his back, one arm slung behind his head.
“Yeah.”
“You haven’t spoken to him yet?”
“No, every time I try, he slips away.” I pause, not wanting to give voice to the thought, but it’s Shep. He knows even if I don’t say it. “I don’t think he wants to talk to me.”
“Give him some more time. He hasn’t said much to me either.”
Beau has been freezing both of us out. I’ve tried to catch him at work, at church, and even once on the street, but he’s avoiding me. And what’s worse is everyone knows it.
Shep yawns. “I’ll let you go,” I tell him. “I’m sorry for waking you. Habit, I guess.”
“Anytime, Jennings.”
When we hang up, I go downstairs for a drink. Maybe getting up will help me cool off. But halfway down, I see a light on in the living room. Daddy must be up again. The strain between us hasn’t gotten much better in the last week and I don’t have the energy to fumble my way through a conversation.
I turn and try to tiptoe back upstairs, but Daddy calls from below, “Creaky stairs, Tessa.” Way to go, me.
At the bottom, I lean against the doorway behind him. “You been up long?”
“A while,” he says, not turning my way.
“You couldn’t sleep either?” I ask. I don’t know why I’m pushing, maybe it's leftover restlessness. If he’d just look at me, give me a reassuring smile so I don’t have to stand here begging for his attention.
“The pain medicine usually wears off about this time,” he says shortly.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I’m going to get some water, you want anything?”
“No, honey. I’m good.”
I get a glass and start making chocolate milk before I even know what I’m doing. When I was little, this was our thing. He’d set a glass of extra-chocolatey chocolate milk in front of me and we’d talk about whatever was bothering me that day. I make two and carry them into the living room, hoping he’ll at least accept my peace offering.
There might have been a flash of annoyance that crossed his face when I handed him the cup, but I will myself to believe it was never there. He takes it from me and takes a tiny sip.
“Extra chocolate?” He asks in perfect imitation of me at eight years old.
“Just the way you like it.”
We sit together in silence and stare at the TV, neither of us watching the sitcom that’s playing. This might be our first step. Hope flares inside me for the first time since the disastrous scene in the dining room. We may have made just a little bit of progress towards forgiveness and it all came down to a glass of chocolate milk.
Instead of enduring the awkward silence, I decide to use it. What could it hurt to ask him what’s on his mind? I'd like nothing more than to repair our relationship and get on with the business of winning Beau over. There are so many things I need to do in order to make Pelahatchie livable for me and being able to be in the same room as my father is at the top of my list. What’s a little discomfort to knowing the truth anyway?
“Daddy?” My voice is quiet. “Does me being here bother you?”
“Of course not.” But his answer is too quick, too rehearsed. When I cut my eyes at him with a skeptical expression, he says, “Does it bother you? ”
“I mean, it’s hard after being on my own. I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, but I don’t really know what to do with myself.”
He sighs and takes a drink while I wait for him to answer. “I don’t really know how to move forward with you.”
That may be the most direct thing my father has ever said to me and it touches me that he’s treating me like an adult. Not his child, not an employee, an actual adult. It’s an odd feeling, but a small sense of pride stirs in my chest.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight, but I don’t want to keep pretending everything is fine. I know I have a lot to make up for.”
“I think we both do.”
I mull it over and nod. A small concession, but I’ll take it. I kiss his cheek and wander out of the room, but his voice stops me in the hall.
“Tessa?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Have you found a place yet?”
“Umm. Not yet.”
“Don’t take too long. It’s good you’re home, but you still can’t live here. You wanted to be on your own and you need to follow through.”
My heart hits the floor and lands beside my bare feet on the hardwoods. I’d rather he had slapped me, it would have hurt less. I duck my head, though I know he can’t see me.
“Yes, sir,” I mumble.
A few days later, Peyton and I are on our way to the coffee shop when I notice work has started on the old hardware store.
“Hold on,” I tell her, crossing the street to peer in the windows. “What’s going on in here?”
“Someone bought it a while back. They haven’t done much with the place, though.” She motions with her chin to the clean, bare room waiting to be put back together.
“It could be really pretty. Do you know who bought it?”
She walks closer to the glass instead of answering. “You remember Mr. Rivers, the owner? Didn’t he used to live up there?”
I scrunch my forehead, trying to remember. “Yeah. Above the store, I think.”
“It would be perfect for you.”
“What would?”
“The apartment upstairs.” She says it as if I should know exactly what she’s thinking.
“Pey, it’s an empty building. Isn’t that kind of creepy?”
“How is that creepy? It’s private and right in the middle of downtown.”
“Which says, ‘Hi everybody, would you like to know my business?’”
Peyton put her hands on her hips. “Do you have any other leads on a place?”
I told her what my dad said, but instead of commiserating with me, she said, “I think that’s a great idea. It’s past time you had your own place.” Maybe it is, I just wish it didn’t sting every time I thought about it. I would almost rather him scream at me than treat me with the cold indifference he’s been giving.
“No,” I mumble, looking away. It's not a bad idea and there isn’t much else to choose from if I want to move out of my parent’s house anytime soon. “Fine,” I grumble. “Will you ask around and find out who owns it? I don’t want a nosy landlord.”
She starts to smile. “Sure. I’ll check it out.”