Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Lukas
I’ve been beating myself up for five years, and she never got the damn journal. Wasted nights, misplaced anger, and all because I was too damn stubborn to track her ass down and fucking talk about it.
Not again. It’s not happening again. I scroll through my phone, scanning the messages for the wedding group chat. I’ve got a few names already in my contacts—Angie, Kyle, Darren—and then a bunch with unknown names. Scrolling through the responses, there’s one number whose responses always have emojis and the correct answers with a sense of authority and kindness.
I take a chance and do what I should’ve done a while ago.
Me: Waverly?
Three dots dance around and vanish.
Waverly: Who is this?
Me: It’s Lukas. I finished with my client and I’m checking in with you.
Waverly: Sends gif of a happy baby cow with the caption “That’s so sweet.”
Me: You didn’t answer the question.
Waverly: It’s been a rough day, but I’m spending the next few nights at a friend’s house.
My shoulders sink into my chair as I finally relax. She’s safe. I don’t know why I was worried she was in danger. Maybe because I almost crushed her with my car. I’ve never seen her that lost before.
A bad day is an understatement.
Me: Let me know if you need anything.
Waverly: Will do.
I toss my phone on the desk and start working on a few outlines for upcoming clients. Questioning the historical accuracy of the armor on a Viking warrior I’m shading, I snap a picture and send it to Waverly.
Me: Is this right?
I don’t need her. I could google it myself.
Waverly: The helmet is wrong.
She sends me a picture of the correct helmet from a museum in Norway. Hmm.
Me: Thanks.
Waverly: No prob, bob.
I erase that last fifteen minutes of work and try again. Hmm, like erasing the last five years and getting a second chance.
My phone chimes
Waverly: Hey, have you seen Tucker and Dale Versus Evil?
Me: It’s a top 10 movie for me, why?
Waverly: I was watching it but we got interrupted, and now I have all this anxiety about it.
Oh, she’s asking if they survive.
Me: The ending is very satisfying.
Waverly: Wanna finish it together some time?
Me: Absolutely.
I’m about to pick up my pencil and start working again, when my phone buzzes. I grab it again, and the smile I didn’t realize was there falls slightly. The message is from Adam.
Adam: I need you.
He drops a pin on his location.
It’s the same shitty bar I went to with Darren and Kyle. Ugh. The bottoms of my shoes are already sticking to the floor just thinking about it.
Adam: plz
Hmm, he’s never said please to me. Against all better judgment, I grab my keys and head out.
As soon as I walk in, my annoyance and disdain for humanity spikes. It’s crowded and loud with a mix of old timers in the corner, a bachelorette party squealing by the pool table, and a bunch of bros cheering on a football game.
At the bar, Adam sits alone, hunched over. “Hey.”I slide one ass cheek onto the stool next to him. I don’t want to commit to a double cheek sit. When Adam’s involved, I always have an escape plan.
“She kicked me out.” He lifts his head and, whoa, he looks like shit. He’s pale and clammy and his eyes are all bloodshot.
I guess I need to play dumb. “Who?”
“Waverly.”
Her name out of his lips feels like a curse, and he says it wrong.
“Why did she leave you?”
He groans, “Because she’s a crazy bitch.”
My knuckles turn white while my whole body tenses. Lightning flashes of rage course through my body, and his face is the perfect lightning rod.
If I go to jail, who will open the shop tomorrow? How many clients would I miss?
“Want to try that again?” I say in a slow, menacing growl.
Adam rolls his big stupid head to the side and blinks at me. “I don’t know why.”
“Look, if you’re going to lie to me, I’m leaving.” I step away but he grabs me.
“I fucked up.”
“Obviously.”
“Where am I going to live?”He reaches for me again.
“Well you’re sure as shit not staying with me.” I yank my arm out of his grasp. I hated living with him as a kid, and the thought of him in my space now? Nope. I’d rather torch the whole place. “But, I’ll take you to Mom’s.”
He bangs his head on the bar and groans like a sad little boy. “Fine.”
Next thing I know, I’m carrying him out of the bar, but there’s no way I’m letting him puke in my car.
“Give me your keys.” His ride is nicer than my first apartment. No doubt Mom paid for it. His forehead makes a grease stain on the window as he lets out tiny moans. “How could she do this to me?”
I turn up the volume on the radio, I’m in no moodto answer obvious questions.
“She needs me.” He whines. I grit my teeth and white knuckle the steering wheel, trying not to voice my thoughts. I firmly disagree.
He sniffles and cries a little. “I’m the only thing keeping her safe.”
He’s dumb and delusional.
“I love her.”
Doubtful. But… if there’s anyone who’s easy to fall in love with, it’s Waverly.
He whimpers and sniffles the rest of the ride. Once we pull into the driveway, I’m hit with a million mixed feelings. I swore I would never come back to this house. No one loved me here. It was never safe.
I park the car and walk over to the passenger door. As I open the door, Adam rolls out and faceplants in the grass by the curb. I would like to say I made an effort to catch him, but… my reflexes must have been affected as well. I smirk internally as I watch him try to push himself off of the ground. Jesus, how much did he have to drink?
He’s heavier than he looks, though, and I expend way more effort than I want to by lifting him back up and and supporting him with my shoulder under his arm. “Come on, help me out.”
He groans and takes a few steps before dragging his feet again. “I need her.”
“Then you probably should’ve kept your dick in your pants,” I grumble as I do all the heavy lifting. The doorbell chimes and I slide him onto a bench on the porch. He pulls his knees to his chest and starts crying. Again.
Richard answers the door. His head moves between me and Adam and he sighs. “Guess Waverly finally got some sense about her.”
Richard is my mother’s husband, and Angie and Adam’s father. He has wrinkles and deep valleys by his eyes, and his hair has more gray peppering it than I remember. This is the man my mother abandoned me for. Funny, I never felt rage and hostility toward him as I did for everyone else.
“Do you want help getting him into the house?” I say, watching Adam curl into a fetal position.
There’s another long sigh from Richard. “Yeah, I guess.”
We spend the next couple of minutes dragging him into the living room, where Adam fully passess out.
Richard grabs his car keys. “Come on, I’ll take you back to the bar.” We ride in silence for the first few minutes. He’s started to talk a few times, but stopped each time before the words left his lips. “Got to say, I’m a little disappointed you didn’t call when you came back.”
This hits me hard. “I figured you guys were busy with your own lives.”
He looks at the dark road, the lights from other passing cars illuminating his face. “Still, I would’ve made time for you.” He laughs quietly. “Out of all my children, you were by far the easiest.”
My children …. I never thought he considered me his. I’m trying not to be insulted. “Easiest and cheapest. It’s not like you paid for anything.”
The car screeches to a halt at a stop light. “What do you mean? I gave your mother three thousand dollars a month for the three of you for dance classes, baseball and child support for you, since we had joint custody. ”
I pinch my lips remembering the ways Dad scraped by, between paying his staff and paying for my food. And extra money would’ve been life changing for us. Hell, I went back through the finances after he died and nothing. “Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never received any money from you, sir.”
He shakes his head, “I left you a prepaid credit card on your desk at the start of every summer with a thousand dollars on it.”
“I believe you think you did, but I didn’t get anything when I was a kid, or when I came to visit.”
First the journal, now the money. What else was stolen?
Richard leans his head back against the headrest and exhales several times before the person behind us honks and the car lurches forward. We return to our awkward silence until he pulls into the parking lot.
I point to my car and get an approval grunt. “Congrats on your East Coast Artist of the Year Award.”
“Um, thanks. I didn’t know you kept track of that stuff.”
“I’m watching over all my kids, even the shitty one.” He laughs a little and I’m not sure which one he’s talking about. “Adam steals your women and ruins them.”
Not in ten million lifetimes did I expect those words. “What?”
“First your mom, then Waverly.” Adam was her golden son, I was the forgotten one, but wait?
My throat dries. “You knew about Waverly and me?”
He gives a little shrug. “You two were a nice fit. Hell, the only time I saw you smile was when she was around. And she was only sad when summer ended and you left.”
He pulls into a parking spot at the bar. I’m about to tell him thanks for the ride but he speaks at the same time. “Why didn’t you say something about the money?”
My hand drops from the door as I shift my weight and meet his gaze. “Why would I assume you were giving me money to begin with?”
“Because I gave money to everyone. Why did you assume you wouldn’t be included?”
I shrug, “Because I’m not yours.”
He drags his hand down his face, ironing out the wrinkles, and for a second, he’s a younger version of him. “Jesus. You lived in my home for two months a year, of course you were mine. I signed every birthday and Christmas card. You got those, right?”
“Sure.”
He exhales. “And they had cash in them, right?”
I only remember empty cards with signatures. My silence gives him the answer he needs.
He groans a low, “Fuck….” and rests his head on the steering wheel.
“It’s not a big deal. I missed out on twenty bucks for my birthday. Whatever.”
He lifts his head and glares at me. “Between child support, summers, and birthdays, you’re looking at a quarter of a million dollars.”
“Oh.” I feel microscopic. Yeah, a fifteen dollar journal is kinda minor. I’m not bringing it up.
He closes his eyes. “I can’t fault you for not knowing about the child support, but…” He slams his hand against the steering wheel again. “You never even questioned why you weren’t getting anything else? Did you ever feel like you were a part of the family?”
I don’t understand where all this is coming from. Yesterday I would’ve lied, but I’ve had too many truth bombs dropped on me. “No.”
Then he makes a sound, like he’s being sucker punched in the soul. He dips his head low as his eyes slam shut. When he finally talks, it sounds like the words are choking him. “Lukas, I am sorry you had the impression you didn’t belong. Honestly, I thought I was doing the right thing.”
Another wall I built to keep myself safe cracks and crumbles. Soon I might not be left with any childhood trauma, and then where will my personality come from? I swallow and ask a question stabbing at my brain all day. “If I had said something?”
He cuts me off, “Everything would be different.”
The walls have crumbled, the soul crushing weight of reality rushes in. “So it turns out communication is important to being a functional human, who knew?” I say.
He huffs a bunch of air out of his nose and gives me a half smile. “We should probably work on that.” He starts the motor and motions to the outside. “I need some time to sort stuff out. After the wedding, let’s get a beer.”
“Sounds good.” I point to the bar. “But not here. This place sucks.”
“Agreed.”
I open the car door and step out. “And there’s a vegan bakery we should avoid.” I don’t hear his response as I head back to my car. Holding things in and letting my fears and insecurities dictate my actions has really fucked up my life, and it only took one day to figure it out.
Time to set a new path.
My phone buzzes and Waverly texts me a picture of a dancing cow, saying, “Thanks for everything today.”
New life, new path, and if I’m not a total chicken shit, it might just lead to her.