Chapter 34
Aliena
The next week passes in a blur of work, visits at my parents’ place, and coming home to small surprises from Seb. Ever since he helped me that night of my cramps, he’s been making small gestures all the while still giving me space.
At times, he leaves little notes somewhere in the house he knows I’ll stumble upon them. Yesterday, he printed a QR code and stuck it to my bathroom mirror. When I scanned it, a video of a cat falling into a toilet popped up, startling a laugh out of me. It was the first time I laughed since his party.
So yeah, while I’m still sticking to my choice to stay away from him, I can feel my resolve crumble just slightly. I miss him like his absence is a physical wound. I don’t want to keep fighting. I want to have things he told me I could never have...
On my next day off, I wake up to the sound of my phone chiming. I check it groggily, blinking for a few beats as I try to read what the message says. When I’ve read it three times and it the words still say the same thing, I sit up in my bed, squealing like an idiot .
He got me a ticket to another art exhibition. Persuasive idiot, he’s making it so hard for me to stay mad at him.
But the reminder that he got high in his room while I was being assaulted, all because he was so eager to think I would actually sleep with another man, on top of the things he said... Yes, reminding myself of those things does wonders for my grudge-holding and it dims my elation about the present.
He wants to make it up to me. I know that’s what he’s trying with the thoughtful notes and now this, and while my heart is screaming at me to give in, my self-preservation hits me with a firm no. He burned my trust to shreds that night, and I don’t want to put myself in a position where he can do it again.
That doesn’t mean I’ll refuse the ticket he got me...
I’m floating on cloud nine by the time I reach my parents’ place that evening. I was at the exhibition for hours, staring at the art and thinking about Sebastian and what to do with him.
When the daylight streaming through the curved windows turned to a golden evening glow, I took the bus here, as much as I didn’t feel like putting a damper on my mood. It’s been days since I’ve visited and checked in, after all.
I get in using my key and head for the living room, where I find my dad lounging on the couch.
“Hey, dad. Is mom home?” I ask, giving him a brief kiss on the cheek, trying not to notice how rough he looks. He hasn’t shaved in days and from the smell of it, he hasn’t showered recently either. He looks despaired and drained .
“They took her,” he mutters, making my thoughts coming to a halt. I whirl on my heels, gaping at him as my heart skips a beat.
“Took her? What do you mean? Who took mom, dad?” I ask urgently. Fucking hell, if she ran into trouble with a dealer, I don’t know what I’ll do. And why is my dad just sitting there?
“The people from that fancy rehab center. Took her two days ago.”
Fancy rehab center? My relief doesn’t outweigh my confusion. “What? How? Why haven’t you told me?” My mind is reeling. Did mom finally agree to get help? And how are we going to pay for that?
“I thought you knew. Your friend came here to explain everything to me and tell me she’ll be in good hands,” he mutters listlessly. My stomach is in knots.
“What friend, dad? Lily?” How did she find out?
“No. No. It was a man. Tall, dark hair, nice clothes. Name starts with S. Or T, or something like that.” Realization dawns on me and I don’t know whether to whoop with relief that my mother is getting help or scream in frustration at Sebastian’s meddling.
Sure, he means well, but I’ve looked into rehab centers. They’re fucking expensive. I’ve just recently been able to pay him back for the moving company. Now, I’m in his debt again. Not to mention the rent he’s sparing me.
Sighing, I nod. “Okay, that’s good, dad. I’ll just prepare dinner, yeah? Then we can celebrate.”
“Celebrate that I’m alone? They took my wife,” he murmurs as I get started in the kitchen. My heart breaks a little at his defeated tone. I wish he’d stop blaming himself for mom’s addiction. There was nothing either one of us could have done to prevent it.
“She needs help, dad. She needs help so she can come back as the woman she was. She’ll get better there. They can help her more than we can.”
He takes several minutes to reply and when he does, it feels like he didn’t hear a word I said. “I lost my wife,” he repeats, his voice trailing off.
“You’ll get her back. I’m sure we can visit her in the meantime. And, who knows, maybe now you can focus on finding a job,” I try to sound cheery. When he doesn’t reply again, I frown and start plating the food.
We eat in unnerving silence and I’m glad when he swallows the last bite, and I can do the dishes. Somewhere along the way, it feels like I haven’t just lost my mother but my father too. He looks like a shell of himself, with no smiles, and no nicknames. Just emptiness and occasional anger.
As I clean the dishes, I get lost in my thoughts again. “You still believe I can get a job?” my dad asks from behind me, startling me into dropping a plate. Sweet hell, I didn’t hear him sneak up on me.
Taking a shaky breath, I try to assure him, “Yes, dad. Of course, you can.” Despite my best efforts, my voice comes out shaky. When has his presence become so unnerving?
He stares off into the distance as I pick up the shards of the broken plate. “I lost my job, I lost my wife, and I’m losing my daughter too,” he recites brokenly, I halt in my tracks.
“What?” I ask, chuckling as a chill rushes down my spine. “What do you mean, you’re losing me? I’m right here. ”
“You think I don’t see how you keep eyeing the door. You don’t want to be here any more than she did.” His voice starts trembling with underlying anger and I take a step back from him, hating that I’m scared. He hasn’t hurt me in years. There’s no reason for my heart to speed up.
“You want to leave. Everyone wants to leave! It doesn’t matter how hard I try, does it? I will never be enough for either of you.” He shakes his head to himself and steps closer, his hands grasping my arms. “So go, then!” He shakes me, making my breath stall in my throat as I stare into his wild eyes. He looks beside himself. Deranged.
I open my mouth to say something placating but before a sound can leave my lips, a loud slap rings through the house and a coppery taste explodes in my mouth. My teeth snap shut, my whole body going still and numb as shock washes over me.
He slapped me. My dad just slapped me.
I watch in silence as his eyes widen, the same horrible realization dawning on him. His hands start to tremble on my arms, his head shakes from left to right in denial.
His throat bobs. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers hoarsely, all his anger bleeding out of him. His eyes turn pleading as his first tear drops. I don’t move. Don’t try to tell him it’s okay when it’s not.
“I am so sorry.” Then he starts sobbing, wrenching me into his arms as he repeats how much he regrets laying a hand on me. After years of not doing it, I guess he just experienced a relapse of his own.
And I’m entirely back to being the girl I was growing up; trying to look after my addict of a mother and my abusive father .
I hold him as he falls apart, my love and hate for him mingling until I can’t even tell them apart.
Eventually, I move us upstairs into his room and hold his hand until he falls asleep. When I finally drag myself out of that house of memories and nightmares, I know I’ve missed my last bus home by a lot. I also know that I can’t stay in my childhood home for another second so I do the only thing I can. I call Sebastian.
“Aly?” Sebastian asks when he picks up after the first ring. I guess he was already awake then, good. “Everything all right? Do you need me to pick you up from somewhere?”
My bruised heart sighs happily, soaking up his caring words. His willingness to get out of the comfort of his apartment so late at night just to help me. “That would be great. How did you know?” I ask.
“You haven’t come home. I was worried about you.”
“Oh,” is all I can think to say to that. He was worried. He cares. I think it’s nice to know that after missing the same reminders from my own parents, but I can’t feel it right now. I can’t feel much of anything other than this oppressive exhaustion.
“Yeah. So, where are you? Are you okay?” From the urgency in his tone, I can tell that he’s dying to get an answer to the latter question. Since he wouldn’t like the true answer to that, I lie.
“Yes, my dad just held me up and I missed the last bus. I’m sorry for calling so late.”
“It’s no big deal. I was up anyway. I’m leaving right now.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you soon.” And so I wait on my front porch, alone with my thoughts and freezing like a beaten dog.
When Seb’s car pulls up, I quickly jump into the passenger seat, barely looking at him to say hello before I turn my face away. I checked my reflection in my phone earlier to see my split lip and a purple bruise already forming around it. If I can get home before Sebastian sees it, he’ll never know.
The longer we just stand still in my driveway, the more my hope that I’ll get away with it dwindles. Finally, gentle fingers cup my chin and turn my face, confirming that my plan has already failed.
Sebastian’s worried eyes flick between my eyes, then drop back to my lip. He grits his teeth, though his touch on me is achingly gentle.
“What happened?” he asks, trying his best to hide his anger.
“I slipped,” I try half-heartedly, not meeting his eyes again.
“Aliena, don’t lie to me. Or I’ll have to go in there and find the answer myself,” Sebastian threatens. Still, I don’t flinch at his gruff tone. There’s not a nerve in my body that’s on alert. Not with him. I know he’d never hurt me.
“My dad lost it a little. It’s not so bad, though. It was just a little slap. Please, don’t make a big deal out of this. I just want to go home,” I plead with him, too tired for a charade.
After a silent second, something changes in his eyes. Like he’s realizing something... Frowning, he mutters, “Nothing new,” under his breath.
“What?” I ask, and his eyes snap back to focus.
“Nothing new. That’s what you said when you called me from the telephone booth. You told me your attacker punched you, but that it was nothing new,” he explains, his voice getting clearer with every word, and I can see him piece the whole story together.
I curse myself for slipping. Now and back in November. Especially when Sebastian’s eyes meet mine, a deadly inferno of rage hidden in his. He lets go of my chin as if it’d burned him.
“He hits you?” he bursts incredulously. I have to suppress a flinch, not because I’m scared but because the words hurt to hear. My father hurt me.
“No. Not anymore. Not in many years, Sebastian. Today was an accident,” I try to reason with him, the denial useless in the face of his palpable outrage.
“How do you accidentally hit your daughter?” he demands, nearly screaming now. “And what do you mean, not in many years?”
Sensing that this isn’t the time for games or lies, I say, “When my mother succumbed to addiction the first time around, my dad was under a lot of pressure, working and raising me. Sometimes, just when I’d mess up something or upset mom, he’d lash out. But it was never bad and he didn’t mean any harm.”
Sebastian bites his tongue, blows out a breath, and rubs his hands down his face. I can tell he wants to keep screaming. Hell, he probably wants to go inside my house and yell at my dad. I won’t let him, though. That sort of stress is the last thing my father needs.
Finally, Sebastian sighs and slumps in his seat. His hands drop from his face to cup my cheeks with utmost care. “I wish you’d told me earlier. I don’t care if you say today was a slip-up. I’d have accompanied you on your visits if I knew that he was dangerous,” he tells me.
“He’s not dangerous,” I protest. “He’s just under a lot of pressure. ”
Sebastian’s brows dip slightly as he shakes his head.” Don’t make excuses for him, Sweetheart. He doesn’t deserve it.” He sighs, studying me for a long moment.
I’m glad when the pity finally bleeds from his gaze, his expression changing as he searches my face. “Thank you for telling me,” he finally says.
“It’s not exactly a pretty bedtime story,” I mumble, unsure why he’d be happy about my being a debbie downer.
“I don’t care. I’m happy about every piece you reveal about yourself. I want to know you, Aly. The good and the bad, and most of all the hidden pieces you keep so close to your chest. I want you to trust me enough to confide in me.”
“You do know me,” I tell him hoarsely. He probably knows me better than anyone at the moment.
Nodding slightly, he brings my hands to his lips and kisses my knuckles. Then, he says “ Let’s go home.”
So we do. Sebastian doesn’t push me to talk more about tonight, and I appreciate it, using the silence to figure out my feelings.
“Can I stay with you tonight?” I ask warily when we arrive home. I didn’t settle on many clear thoughts in the short ride home, but I do know for sure that I’m craving comfort. I’ve been craving it ever since I stopped sleeping with Sebastian, but tonight, I don’t want to miss it. I lack the strength to deny myself.
Sebastian, though clearly surprised, quickly agrees, “Yes, of course.”
I get ready as quickly as I can, washing my face and inspecting my bruise before meeting him in his bedroom. For one awkward moment, I hesitate in the doorway. Then, he saves the day with his most charming smile as he pats the mattress next to him .
“I promise I won’t bite,” he teases me, and the sentence hovers between us like the ghost of old times.
“Not unless I ask,” I add, finally getting closer.
To my surprise, he shakes his head. “No, Sweetheart. Not tonight. As of tomorrow, when you’re well rested and have a clear head, I’ll do whatever you ask.” He winks at me before reaching for my hand and dragging me down onto the bed. Within seconds, he manages to clumsily settle me next to him.
He holds my gaze as he slowly reaches out to brush his thumb over my bruised lip, a crease marring his forehead.
“It barely hurts anymore,” I assure him.
“I hate that this happened. I hate that I wasn’t there,” he curses softly.
“You’re the first person I called. Just focus on that. I know we have a lot to talk about but for now, forget about this. Just hold me and go to sleep,” I tell him, already turning around so we can settle in our old position.
Sebastian follows suit, his body curving against my back and melting against me with a sigh. “I missed you so fucking much,” he confesses against my shoulder.
“Such a filthy mouth,” I tease him, ever my first instinct to deflect when things become too intimate. But I remind myself that’s not what I want to do with Sebastian. Not anymore. With my heart in my throat, I concede, “I missed you too.”