Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
KELLAN
I’m sitting at my family’s apartment watching football on Christmas Day, but I’m not paying attention.
Sammy is snuggled into my side and Joey’s sitting on the floor, enrapt in what’s ultimately become a pretty good game after a scoreless first quarter.
My mom’s taking a quick nap, and I’m glad for it.
She’s been going non-stop during December, trying to make this Christmas a good one for the boys, especially with Rick gone.
We finished dinner close to an hour ago, and I’ve decided that a food coma is the reason for my sluggishness. Or that I slept on a super uncomfortable sofa last night. There was no way I was missing my brothers open their presents on Christmas morning.
For the last ten days, I’ve been doing everything that I can to distract myself.
Every practice. Every shift I can pick up at the impound lot.
But it doesn’t matter, because each night, I go back to an empty townhouse–Coop and Dutch are home for the shortened break that we get–and try to quell thoughts that I can’t escape.
I’ve been telling myself that it’s because I know there’s pro interest. I’ve told myself that so many times over the last few weeks that sometimes, I actually start to believe it. The mind is a powerful thing like that. But apparently, my mental contortion abilities pale in comparison to Wells’.
What kind of masochist sends presents to my townhouse for me to bring for my brothers today?
They were addressed from Santa, but it couldn’t have been anyone else.
No one else in my world has that kind of disposable income or would make such a sweeping gesture that only served to infuriate me.
For a dude that’s so insistent on ‘telling me what this is and isn’t,’ he’s sure sending some mixed signals.
I haven’t texted him. Mostly because I don’t know if I want to kick him or kiss him.
I don’t think I’ve ever had an especially loud inner monologue unless it comes to hockey, but since I saw him last, my mind’s been running non-stop.
What pisses me off the most is that even though he handled it in a completely dickish way, there is a grain of truth in what he said. Only, I didn’t want to see it.
But… I haven’t told my roommates what’s been going on, and Wells and I had been hooking up for months before things blew up.
I’m not usually chatty about my love life, but with time and space, I’m looking back on things through a different lens.
I would have mentioned someone steady to them if she was a woman.
Or she’d probably have come over to the apartment sometimes.
I sigh and rub my tired eyes at the same time Joey lets out an exuberant yell when one of the team scores. “Quiet, dude,” I say quickly. “Mom’s sleeping.”
He calms down immediately, looking bashful. A second later, he picks up the Nintendo Switch which was one of the gifts from Wells. It’s something that we could have never afforded. I almost thought about throwing the gifts away, but it wouldn’t have been fair to Joey and Sammy.
So here they are, with the most present-filled Christmas that they’ve ever had, as I do everything that I can to ignore the growing ball of discomfort in my stomach.
I don’t know what my problem is, how I was so easily able to delude myself into finding the most complicated situation and pretending that it was anything but.
And now, stupid Wells is sending stupid gifts to my brothers, all while keeping his distance as he has some sort of rich person holiday that includes cutting it up on the slopes.
The closest I’ve ever come to a winter recreation sport is hockey.
I groan, which causes Sammy to snuggle closer against me, and I run a hand through his wild hair. He’s breathing heavily, his little body spooned against my hip and leg. I can’t imagine being that small. So trusting of the world.
I hear the sound of the front door opening before I see it, and I’m on my feet half-a-second after.
My mom didn’t mention that anyone else was coming over today.
And Mrs. Madsen definitely wouldn’t just let herself in.
We don’t live in the worst neighborhood, but it is possible that someone’s stupid enough to try to break into our house on Christmas day.
“Get the fu-” But the words die on my lips. Standing in the doorway is Rick. Like he hasn’t been gone for the last nine months without a word.
“Dad!” Joey screams, and now, I’m definitely sure that my mom’s nap is over.
“Dad?” Sammy says blearily from behind me, and my heart clenches at the same time as my fists.
They deserve so much better than a fair-weather father like Rick.
He probably ran out of money and is crawling back home under the guise of missing his family so much.
He’ll give the boys some fantastical story about how he was on an oil rig or how he was lost in the rainforest and it took him months to find his way home.
Instead of the truth, which is that alcohol, gambling, and women don’t come cheap or make it easy to hold down a job.
I want nothing more than to push him back outside into the harsh December day.
And then I want to follow after him and deck him so hard that he loses a couple of teeth.
But instead, I square up with him, keeping my voice calm for the boys.
I tip my head in his direction. “Rick. Surprised to see you here.”
He lifts Sammy into his arms, who’s woken up fully now. “And miss Christmas with my boys?”
Joey pulls both of our attention. “Dad, Santa was amazing this year. He brought us so much cool stuff. Do you wanna see it?”
Before he can answer, my mom pads out of the bedroom. “What’s going on?” she says at the same time she sees Rick. From the look on her face, it’s clear that this visit is a surprise to her, too.
“Lucy, I’m home,” he says, putting on a Ricky Ricardo affect and making a big show of walking with Joey still in his arms over to my mom and planting a huge kiss on her cheek. “I missed you, darlin’.”
He’s disgusting, and my lip curls at the sight of him.
His grungy, scraggly beard. His balding head, which he always covers with a baseball cap, no matter where he goes.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in an outfit that doesn’t include dirty jeans, a once white tank-top, and some sort of flannel overshirt.
When I was younger, he seemed so much more imposing. And now… he’s just an average-sized guy with below average intelligence who likes to take his anger out on anyone he deems weaker. Fucking loser.
I know all of this, but suddenly, the apartment is too small.
All I can think about is getting out of it.
Getting away from Rick. I’m not the scared kid that I used to be, but the fight or flight instinct in me roars to life anyway.
Besides my mom, the only reason I kept showing up at this house was to make sure that Sammy and Joey didn’t ever become the punching bag for any of Rick’s emotional whims.
I look back toward my mom, who’s pasted on an ‘everything is fine’ smile. Her eyes are telling a different story. “I didn’t know you were coming home today.”
“It’s a real Christmas miracle,” he says, laughing at his own joke. He puts Joey down and glances at the television. “J-Man, go get your dad a beer. The second half is about to start.”
I can’t be here. If I stay, I’ll beat the shit out of him. For leaving. For coming back. Hell, I’d settle for doing it just because he exists. But I won’t. Not with my brothers watching. Instead, I say, “Perfect timing,” through gritted teeth. “I was just heading out.”
My mom takes a step toward me, concern etched across her face. She knows that Rick and I don’t get along, but not the true depth of my hatred for him. Or the cause of it. “Kellan, you don’t need to go.”
“I picked up a shift tonight,” I lie.
“I’ll walk you out,” Rick says, happily taking back his mantle as man of the house. It’s not one that I’ve ever wanted for myself, given what a balancing act it is, but I’m sick to my stomach that he’s back, pretending like he didn’t just abandon his family for the better part of a year.
I throw my beanie on my head. “Whatever.” I drop down as Sammy and Joey flank me for their goodbye hugs, and I give them both a kiss on the head before I go.
“Tara, make me a plate, will ya? I missed a good home-cooked meal,” he says before following me. He walks a step behind me until we reach the door. I turn around in the doorway when he starts talking. “I hope you’re not going to make things difficult, Kellan. Now that I’m back.”
I glare at him. I don’t need to keep up any pretenses when it’s just the two of us. “Yeah, and for how long?”
“Look, kid… this is not a fight that you want to be picking.”
The nerve of this asshole! I’m trying my best, but I’m only human. And what I can try to promise is that I won’t punch him. Anything else is fair game. “I doubt you know anything about what I want. That would require you not to be a completely self-centered prick.”
He steps closer, and I can smell that he’s already tied a few on. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, but you’re just some punk kid.” He gives me a critical stare. “Always have been.”
I keep my voice low. “Is that why you decided that you were the best person to knock some sense into me?” I take a small step toward him. “Or is it because you fail at life over and over and over again and always need someone to blame except yourself?”
I watch his hands curl into fists. I’d love it if he took a shot at me first. It would make the ass-kicking I’ve wanted to give him for almost a decade at this point that much sweeter.
Instead, his lips twist into a condescending smirk.
“I’m home now, so you don’t need to worry about coming by anymore. ”
Bile rises in my throat. Trying to keep it all together these last months has been hell, but the idea of Rick sticking around is worse. “If you’re never going to get your shit together, you may as well leave for good this time.”
“I’d miss my loving family too much.”
All I can think is that he wants me to hit him, which only reinforces the idea more that I shouldn’t. Still, my fingernails are digging into my palms so hard that I’m sure they’ll leave marks. “Fuck off, Rick,” I say, already walking away from him.
“Merry Christmas, Kellan!” He yells down the walkway.
There’s an anger that bubbles up inside of me as I take the steps down to the street.
I’m physically sick with the weight of it.
My skin feels too tight. Where Rick is concerned, I’ve always felt powerless.
Small. And now with Sammy and Joey in the mix, I can’t stand the idea that anything bad could ever happen to them.
If it was at Rick’s hand, I think I’d probably kill him.
I have to wait almost thirty minutes in the freezing weather to catch the next bus. My fault, since leaving wasn’t exactly planned. Still, when it finally arrives, I feel like I’m burning up with all the fury coursing through my veins with nowhere to go.
I sit down on the almost empty bus and stretch my legs out, finally breathing normally again. But I can’t help but wonder as we roll through the mostly empty streets, what will finally be the source of unleashing it.