8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Summer
I could have waited for Dad by his car and gone home with him. That would’ve been the logical thing to do. But I needed to breathe… To get my mind off what just happened.
What even happened?
I replay everything in my head, trying to wrap my brain around why Dad sounded so upset.
Was it because I was with a guy? No, it couldn’t have been. That’d be ridiculous. I’m twenty-two years old. Dad knows someday I’ll bring a guy home and settle down.
It doesn’t make any sense.
Often, I think about how much it sucks to be an only child. I wish I had a sibling that could also occupy Dad. Then he wouldn’t be on my case all the time.
How different would things have been?
I’m halfway home, and the closer I get, the more my heart dips lower into my stomach. My mind races, thinking about everything in my life. I start thinking about Mom and the friends she had… and realize I forgot to call them.
God, I feel like I’m just as bad as Dad… being OK with them finding out on their own. I swallow harshly, pulling out my phone and skimming through my contacts. When I find Mary’s contact, I press the call button and pray she still has the same number. I haven’t talked to her since long before I left for college.
Mom took me to see a movie at the old theater downtown that often replays popular movies. Most of the people who go to rewatch movies in the theaters are those who go on dates to fool around in the dark. But I wasn’t about to tell Mom that when my favorite movie of all time was replaying: The Notebook .
When the movie ended, we ran into Mary by the bathroom. It was oddly coincidental, but it was nice to see my mom smile. I noticed that she wasn’t smiling as often, and when she did smile… it was a short, quick smile. I assumed it was because I was leaving so soon for college. But the smile she held when she saw Mary was different, and it touched my heart. It made me happy that Mom had other people in her life besides Dad.
The phone rings longer than I hoped it would. At this point, I almost give up, but right before I go to hang up, someone picks up.
My heart starts racing. “Hi, is this Mary?”
“Yes, may I ask who is calling?”
Dread slams me in the gut. “It’s Summer. Katherine’s daughter.”
“Oh my,” she begins. “How did you find my number?”
“You know how Mom is. She gave it to me and told me that if anything ever were to happen and I couldn’t get a hold of her or Dad; to call you.”
“Oh. How I will miss her.”
My heart sinks, and my eyes widen. “You know she passed?” Those words falling from my tongue hurt, but I know I need to accept them.
“Yes, I saw the news. I’m so sorry, honey.” I can hear the pain in her voice.
My eyes clamp shut, and I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Thank you. I, um… I was just calling to let you know the funeral is Saturday at ten.”
There is silence, but I know she hasn’t hung up because I can hear her breathing and quietly snuffling.
She clears her throat. “Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time to tell me. I didn’t think your father was going to call me.”
I couldn’t hold back the huff that fell from my lungs at how right she is about that. And maybe that makes me a bad person. A terrible daughter for laughing, but I remember what Dad said at the funeral home.
When I reach the front door of my house, I stop and stare down at my feet. “Mom would’ve wanted you and June to be there.”
“I will be sure to call June. Thank you, honey.”
We both say goodbye, and I hang up the phone, blowing out a long breath. I wasn’t sure how I would feel after making the phone call, but I think it’s safe to say I feel a whole lot better, despite the consuming sorrow that is filling my heart.
Opening the door, I go straight for the kitchen to pour myself a glass of orange soda. Confusion rushes through me, wondering where Dad is. He should have been home first. He was so eager for me to get home so we could discuss a family matter, but he’s not even here.
I end up laughing, and I don’t know why. Resting my elbows on the counter, I press my fingers to my temple.
Pathetic.
That’s how I feel.
Sucking in a large amount of air, I hold it in for a second before blowing out, then grab my phone from my back pocket to text Chloe.
I think I went on a date with Alec.
She replies quickly.
Excuse me? Details. Spill now.
Biting the corner of my bottom lip, I type out my response and hit send.
There’s not much to tell. I ran into him walking to get breakfast. He asked me if I wanted coffee, and for some reason, I agreed to go with him.
You had coffee with Alec Sokolov!
It’s not a big deal. Dad broke it up fast.
Yikes… that’s mortifying. What was the reason he broke up the date?
He never really gave me a reason. He said there was a family matter that we needed to discuss, and well, he’s not even here.
I watch the bubble pop up as Chloe types her next reply, but when my phone vibrates in my palm, I don’t get a chance to read what she said because the door swings open violently. The rough sound of dad’s shoes make my body tense a little.
I almost don’t even want to look at him, too angry to, but I do. I turn around and give a half smile. It fades quickly when he doesn’t smile back or greet me.
My stomach twists. He looks angry. The wrinkles around his mouth pinch tight against the corners of his lips.
My eyes move to the glass of soda in my hand. Shame sneaks up on me.
“Take a seat,” he demands.
My throat tightens, and I swallow once. Twice. Three times… until I feel some relief. With a quick roll of my shoulders, I sit down at the kitchen table. He stays standing in the same spot.
In the blink of an eye, he slams his hand onto the table, causing me to flinch. He glides a crisp white piece of people with ink so black toward me. My stomach does a complete three-sixty. The few sips of orange soda I had is threatening to reappear as I read the first sentence.
How is this possible? I made sure to check the mail before Dad since I came home from college, just in case the school sent a letter confirming my decision to drop out.
My eyes move slowly to Dad. He doesn’t say a word, only waits for an explanation. One that I can’t really give to him. I can’t help but look down at the paper with disappointment and then back at his hard eyes.
He tilts his head while I try to swallow down saliva to moisten my dry throat.
“H-how did you…”
He cuts me off before I can finish. “When exactly were you planning to tell your father that you dropped out of college?”
My hands shake as I raise my glass, bringing it to my mouth for a sip. The only thing I can focus on right now is this paper. The proof of everything I’ve been holding back from him. I can’t imagine how hurt he is. How much I have failed him.
“I-I can explain,” I stutter.
“Please do. I’m the one who has been paying for your tuition, and you go behind my back and decide not to go?”
“I… well… um.”
Why can’t I get the words out properly?
I lick my lips, feeling a lump in my throat as I swallow once again. “Dad.”
He laughs. My eyes dart to him immediately, stunned.
I follow his movement as he paces back and forth, thinking. Suddenly, he slams his palms back on the table, creating a loud thud . My body jolts, sloshing orange soda onto the table.
“Damnit, Summer!” he yells. “You had everything going for you.”
My shoulders slump. “It wasn’t my calling, OK? I wasn’t happy.” I raise my hands in defense, struggling to get a good grasp on how I feel.
He runs his thumb across the gray stubble on his jaw. “It wasn’t your calling, huh? Tell me, what exactly is your calling? Running away with a lowlife singer and living happily ever after? Do you realize how successful you would have been? How great of a profession this was for you?”
The words replay in my head as my teeth clamp together. For some reason the only thing I can focus on is the immediate judgment of Alec. I mean, he might know Alec more than I do. Everyone in the town mostly knows of him. But a part of me feels angry because of that.
I shove my anger aside, knowing I need to focus on why my father is angry right now.
“That’s just it, Dad. It’s a great profession, yes. But it’s not the one for me. I was not happy. I don’t want to be a nurse. I never did. Everything was your decision.” I look down at the liquid on the table, feeling nothing but disappointment and self pity.
He wasn’t supposed to find out this way.
He shakes his head, flabbergasted, and points a finger at me. “If you think for one second, I don’t care, you’re mistaken. I do everything to look out for you. Everything your mother couldn’t do.”
My eyes shoot back to him, my mouth falling open. His words hit me like a brick to the face, causing my hands to clench into fists—so tight, my nails dig deeply into my palms. I push myself up from the chair, needing to move around.
“The way my mother couldn’t,” I repeat. “What exactly couldn’t my mother do?”
He sighs, running a palm down his face. “You know what I mean.”
“No… no, I don’t think I do. Please elaborate for me.” I cross my arms over my chest and wait. Except, he doesn’t explain.
My head shakes, disappointment growing deep inside of my stomach. “You know, Dad, you can be a real prick.”
I immediately regret saying that, but I can’t take the words back. I need to get out of this kitchen. I need space from this tension. I walk to the side of the table, preparing to leave, but Dad moves closer to me.
“That is no way to talk to your father!” he spits.
Anger bubbles up the center of my throat. “No way to talk to my father, right… I’m going upstairs.”
I storm out and head up the stairs. Dad calls my name, but I ignore him and head into my room. The lock clicks shut, and I lean against the door. Water trickles down my cheeks, hot and heavy.
And right now, I could really use one of Mom’s hugs.