Chapter 30
thirty
LOCKE
Ghost tucks his head deeper into my chest, when a dog a few seats down makes eye contact with him. I think he hates vet visits because he has to socialize with people and animals outside of his comfort circle. I think that’s why we go so well together.
There’s been minimal changes to the waiting room since his last check-up.
A few new posters here and there, and the front door doesn’t squeak so loudly when someone pulls it open.
The young woman at the front desk didn’t try to make small talk when I checked in and doesn’t throw any more flirty glances my way.
I’ll credit that to the hickey peeking out from under my sweater.
The clinic itself is always clean and welcoming. It’s the same one I’ve brought Ghost to for as long as I’ve had him. Those factors are enough for me to overlook the vet being fifteen minutes late every time we come.
One hand pets Ghost to soothe him from the dog still staring him down, and the other is scrolling my phone. Past the social media apps and unread emails, there are text messages. The chat labeled “Dad” gets ignored for a group of people more worth my time.
LILIANA
Is there a day everyone would be available the week of Thanksgiving? Grant and I want to host a Friendsgiving, if you guys are interested.
Princess
WAIT THAT’S SO CUTE
Billie
YES YES YES YES
i actually need this so bad omfg
Princess
i will make any day work if you’re going to make that pumpkin crunch dessert Lil
Liliana
I’ll make a spreadsheet so we can organize potluck details. What about the boys?
What is a potluck?
Princess
it just means we’re all going to bring one dish instead of paying for someone to cook
we can bring adobo and lumpia :)
Liliana
Does this mean you guys are free any day?
If it’s a dinner, yes.
Derek
except thanksgiving of course
A small smile makes its way onto my face. I don’t think Derek knows yet that McCarthy kids don’t really have holiday obligations. That’s okay. Through time of us being friends, he’ll learn. Maybe one day, it won’t be Billie, Grant, and I having a Thanksgiving dinner, just the three of us.
Rosie invited me to spend the day with her family and meet her parents.
Grant was invited to Liliana’s too. It may have been in my best interest to meet my partner’s family as soon as possible, but Billie’s never been without options on Thanksgiving.
She’s either spent it silently at home with me, or as AJ’s plus one with his family.
My brother and I both agreed that this year, we’d have a holiday with just the three of us. After explaining it to Rosie and Liliana, they agreed, too.
I have around a month to prepare myself for a Mendoza family Christmas, at least.
Grant
I know it’s the day after, but does Friday work for everyone?
Princess
yes!
Derek
for sure
Billie
you’ve got three yeses, you’re moving onto the next round
I roll my eyes at my sister’s bad pop culture references. Ghost purrs—the dog has been called to the back, thankfully—and I type the best I can with my free hand.
Anything you need help with?
Liliana
Set-up wise, we should be okay.
Princess
“we should be okay” that friday morning is going to be ran like a damn boot camp grant you better be ready
Grant
I expect nothing less from my girl
Billie
FIRST WARNING: EXCESSIVE TEXT PDA WILL RESULT IN A FINE OF $100 DEPOSITED INTO BILLIE’S BANK ACCOUNT, EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY
Shut up.
Grant
Okay sorry relationship police!!
Billie
you better be! it’s hard patrolling these digital streets
locke you apologize too
No.
Princess
love, apologize
I’m sorry.
Billie
rosie i could kiss you
No.
Derek
how do you guys type so fast
Liliana
Here’s the link to the spreadsheet for Friendsgiving dinner. Preferred dishes are bolded, allergies are in red (please keep Billie’s severe cashew allergy in mind), and note that plastic utensils do not count as a dish.
Derek
but then it’d be a plastic DISH
No.
My phone doesn’t stop vibrating. Messages are flying back-to-back. I’m trying to reposition my hold on the device, and keep Ghost comfortable in my other arm, and accidentally open a different chat.
When I realize it’s gone from unopened to read, my blood runs cold.
Dad
Be at the office at 3pm Fri, Sat, and Sun next week. Standby for Thursday.
Ghost nudges his nose at my chin. Before I had Rosie, or Grant, or anyone else in my life I call a friend, I had him. The only comfort when my heart rate would rise, sweat gathering at my brow from the anxiety my father sends me spiraling into. So many years later, he can still tell the signs.
My chest is shaking. Breathing uneven. I haven’t spoken to my father since that last day at the office, and my mind afforded me delusional bliss of thinking he’d forgotten about me.
I’ve subdued my anger towards him for so long. It’s been relieving to get my emotions out and speak my mind these past few weeks. Heartbreakingly, it’s just as terrifying to face the consequences of doing so.
It’s a weird middle. Angry because I’ve been nothing but my father’s son for my entire life. Scared because I don’t think that’s true anymore.
I’m Keller McCarthy’s son, but I’m also Grant and Billie’s brother. Derek and Liliana’s friend. Rosie’s partner. Those things mean more to me than my last name. Being anything other than a McCarthy is unknown territory. I’m scared, but I want those titles more than I’ve wanted anything in my life.
Three dots pop up and disappear before my father can send another message. Hurriedly, before the adrenaline dwindles down, I type back a reply.
I’m busy.
A simple “No.” was my first plan, but it felt wrong. Not enough to translate how little I want to see him and how adamantly I’m against this.
I don’t even get two seconds to continue my mental preparation before he replies.
Dad
When did I say this was up for discussion?
Don’t talk back. Come in when I tell you to. This isn’t an option.
I’m busyy
My hand is still shaking, and I take a deep breath. For a split, harrowing second, I consider doing as I’m told. It’s familiar to succumb to his intimidation and follow orders.
Another message from the group chat—now named Boston Besties by Billie—shows in a preview at the top of the screen. My nerves become manageable again. My friends aren’t here physically, and they wouldn’t know what I’m dealing with right now, but they’re still with me.
I’m sure standing my ground is going to have unchangeable consequences. Life-altering, probably. My father would never take lightly to me talking back, especially not after what’s transpired over the last few weeks. If I do it again, he’ll be crueler to me than ever.
He messages again, repeating himself and telling me I’m pushing his buttons. The flurry of texts from my friends spurs me on. Ghost’s paw pressing into my arm comforts me.
This life I’ve created is the one I care about. If Dad wants to blow up any semblance of the life I had prior, I’m willing to face it head-on, no matter how terrified I am of him.
I’m busy. I won’t be going into the office.
Dad
You’re pissing me off real bad Locke.
What could you possibly be doing next week?
Celebrating the holidays.
Dad
Where? With who? That girl in the bar video?
None of your business.
Dad
Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?
I’ll ruin your fucking life, Locke. You listen to what I say and come into the office when I tell you and stop thinking you have any control over this. Stop testing me.
You want to get cut off? I’ll cut you out of everything. You won’t have access to my accounts anymore, I’ll ban you from ever getting ahead with that fucking software degree of yours. I’ll destroy you if you don’t knock this shit off and listen to me.
“Ghost?”
The doctor finally calls for us, and I take a sharp breath. It couldn’t have taken more than thirty seconds to stand and gather Ghost’s things, but my father has sent another handful of threatening messages. All raging about how I better listen to him or else.
There’s a trail of sweat rolling down my temple. The space of this office is air conditioned, but I’m sweating.
I exchange a quiet greeting with the doctor before being taken into a room for Ghost’s appointment.
My phone vibrates incessantly while she runs through basic questions about my cat, how he’s been doing the last few months, his diet, and everything else I try to focus on while my life is blowing up through text messages.
Only when the vet scribbles some notes on to her clipboard and says she’ll be right back, do I force myself to check my phone.
Ghost snuggles into my hand while I open the unread thread of over forty new texts.
I’m not brave enough to read through them all, but the last few are enough to prove my life will never be the same.
Dad
When you come into the office on Friday I’m going to wring you a new one. You’re going to wish you could turn back time because it’s going to be hours of hearing me go over why you’re a failure of a fucking son.
If I knew you were going to be such a fucking disappointment I would’ve wasted my life on Grant instead of you, you piece of shit.
Bring your cards on Friday so I can cut those up in front of your face.
I’m busy.
Maybe it’s because I realize I’m officially past the point of no return, and there’s not a world where I’d even consider choosing him over a holiday with my friends, but that text was the easiest to send.
I never thought my father loved me, really.
Not as a son; Not even as an accessory to his success.
Years ago, I came to terms with the fact that, to him, I’m nothing more than someone to carry on his name.
He raised me to be known as Keller McCarthy’s son, from the day I was born to the day I would rest.
Despite that, I never imagined his cruelty would run this deep. Saying things to me that feel inhumane and gut-wrenching. So full of hate.
I don’t want to be considered his son ever again.
Dad
If you’re not there on Friday, you better hope I don’t find where the fuck you are. I have eyes all over this city. I have trackers in places you couldn’t even dream of. I’ll show up just to embarrass you and ruin whatever holiday you think is more important than me.
Ok.
The doctor walks back into the room. Before we go over the basic motions of Ghost’s check-up, I block my father’s number.