Chapter Thirty-Three
Zeppelin
Afew days later, I walk out onto the porch to find the clothes I left at Misty’s place folded on the welcome mat. Including the T-shirt she stole to wear to bed.
If that’s not a just a fucking punch to the nuts right there.
Looking up, I see Bernie sitting on her front porch, her head in her hands. She looks sad.
“Hey, Bernie,” I call.
There’s no smile. No wave. Her eyes stay glued to the sidewalk as she actively avoids looking at me.
“Can we talk?”
I take a chance and walk across the street. She has a key and can run inside if she doesn’t want to listen to me, and there’s at least thirty minutes before Misty comes home from work.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” Bernie finally says.
She won’t look at me, and it fucking kills me. I can’t believe how much I miss talking to an eight-year-old. But Bernie’s different than most. She’s an original.
“How about if I talk, then?”
She shrugs. “I can’t stop you.”
Well, I can see sass is hereditary. That’s all her mother. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
“Sorry I stained your shirt.”
“It’s fine. I have others.”
Finally looking up, she locks eyes with me. “Why did you do that, Zep? Mom was happy. You were supposed to be my friend, and you hurt my mom.”
Well, just grab a knife from the kitchen and stab me in the fucking chest, kid. “It’s not what it looked like, I swear.”
“It looked like you kissed that lady who hurt you.”
That’s a nicer term than before. The memory of how Bernie called Chanel a whore hits me, and I fight back my smirk. Now is definitely not the time to chuckle.
“Bernie—”
“You kissed someone who isn’t my mom.”
She has me there. “It wasn’t… It was a goodbye. And a trick. Chanel played a trick on me.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “I don’t kiss my friends goodbye.”
“Well, that’s good because you’re not allowed to kiss anyone until you’re thirty-five.”
“You’re not my dad, Zep.”
Okay, twist the knife. “It was a dirty trick, and I plan to do whatever I can to make it up to you. And your mama.”
“I don’t think you can.” She sniffles and looks to the side. “Mom doesn’t forgive when someone makes me cry. I saw you laugh when I went inside. Friends don’t laugh at each other.”
Rubbing my hand down my face, I remember how much scrubbing it took to get the green dye off my skin. “I wasn’t laughing at you, Bernie. I would never laugh at you like that.”
“You were laughing, Zep. I’m not stupid.”
“Have you ever had someone throw a cupcake at you?” I wait for her to look up at me and shake her head. “Not just one, but two. And that second one hits you in the face.”
“No.”
I smirk. “Think about it without the reason they were thrown. Getting hit between the eyes with a cupcake—the frosted side—is kind of funny, isn’t it?”
I’m rewarded with a small giggle. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“I would never laugh at you because you were upset. It kills me to know you and your mama think I’d do that to you. You’re my best friend, Bernie. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”
“Then why did you kiss that mean girl? You left us at the park when we were cheering you up to go with her, and then you kissed her. Do you want her boyfriend to beat you up again?”
Damn her logic. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is,” she says with a frustrated sigh.
How do I fix this? My eyes land on her backpack that sits at her feet, and the Daredevils patch we sewed on is gone. “Where’s the patch?”
Her eyes look to where we’d put it on, and she just shrugs. “I asked Mom to take it off for me. She didn’t want to, but I didn’t think it was fair because we’re not friends anymore.”
“Bernie—”
“And I didn’t want to make Mom sadder than she already is.”
And twist the knife even more. “I want to be friends again. How can I make this up to you?”
“Mom cries at night. She thinks I’m asleep, but I’m not.”
Shit.
She looks at me and glares with the same venom as Misty. “You made my mom cry, Zep.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. If I could, I’d kick my own ass for that. “That was never what I wanted for your mama. Or you.”
“But you hurt her. Whether you meant to or not, you did. You left us to kiss that lady. The one who called me a brat.”
“And she got yelled at for doing that,” I tell her. “Chanel played a trick on me. I thought I owed her something when I told her I didn’t want her coming around anymore. That I was happy with your mama. She saw you two coming, and she wanted to hurt you. And me. She likes to cause problems.”
“Why?”
Licking my lips, I try to decide whether I should say this or not. “Can you keep a secret? From your mama?”
“Maybe.”
“Guess I gotta take my chances, huh? Okay, here it is. I haven’t told your mama yet because I was waiting for the right time, but I love her. And Chanel wanted to make problems because she knew I loved your mama and not her anymore.”
She narrows her eyes. “Why would she do that? She has a boyfriend.”
Oh, Bernie, please stay this na?ve forever. “She wanted to hurt your mama. I think she thought it would make me come back to her.”
“But it won’t?”
I shake my head. “Never again. And you’re the reason.”
Pointing at her chest, Bernie gapes with her eyebrows high on her forehead. “Me?”
“You asked me why I let her treat me bad, and I didn’t have a good answer. Then your mama showed me what being treated good was like, and I’ll never go back. I’ll spend forever making it up to you and your mama.”
“I don’t know if Mom will let you.”
“I don’t either, kiddo, but I have to try.”
Her fingers tap on her knees. “She won’t believe you if you tell her you love her.”
“I don’t think so, either.”
Tilting her head, Bernie purses her lips as she thinks. “We need a plan.”
“You’re willing to help me?”
“I don’t like Mom crying. She said she was sad for me, but I know she was sad for her. She really liked you. And she doesn’t like a lot of boys. Says they always hurt us.”
Blowing air out, I sit beside her and rest my head on the railing. “I never wanted to hurt your mama. It hurts me so much to know I did that to both of you. If I could take all the pain away, I would. I’d do anything to be hurt instead of you two.”
“I wish you could, too. Mom puts on a brave face, but I don’t think she’s ever been this sad before. If she doesn’t forgive you, I don’t think we can be friends again, Zep.”
“I understand.”
Her face turns in confusion as she looks at the street. “Dad?”
My guard is up as I stand, ready to stop the man I don’t recognize on the street. And the look on his face says he’s not thrilled to see me talking to Bernie.
Motherfucker really is here.
“Hey! Get away from my daughter!” Ben Samson shouts as he runs from a black Porsche. “Now!”
Definitely paid for with drug money.
If this motherfucker thinks he can take me, he has another think coming. “We’re just talking.”
“Back away!” he shouts, storming across the lawn.
“It’s okay, Dad. He’s our neighbor.”
Neighbor. Not friend. I really have screwed the pooch, haven’t I?
“Then he can go home.”
“Funny, I’ve spent more time with Bernie since Misty moved here than you have her entire life. Who the hell are you to come here and order me around like you’re a parent?” I ask.
“I am her parent. I’m her father.”
“Really? What’s her favorite color?”
He glares at me before glancing to Bernie. “Purple.”
“Good guess, but it’s not. It’s pink. Her mama tells her she likes her in purple, so she wears a lot of it. How about her favorite food?”
This guy looks like he was attractive once. I could see the appeal. But using the product he sells hasn’t done him any favors.
“Spaghetti.”
“Another obvious guess by an absent parent, but it’s chocolate chip cookies. Who’s her best friend?”
“Let me guess,” he says with a sneer, “you?”
I want to punch that look off his face so badly. “Used to be. It’s a toss-up between her mama and Carly. You don’t know her, so don’t pretend you’ve ever given a damn.”
“I do give a damn.”
“Really? Is that what everyone who knows these two would say?”
I’m careful not to say too much in front of Bernie because I know Misty doesn’t want her to know about this asshat walking away because she was born. But I want him to know I know.
“You don’t know me, and you don’t know my family.”
“Dad, stop it. He’s my friend, okay? And he was Mom’s friend for a while, too.”
This gets a reaction. “Bernadette, get inside,” Ben orders.
“No—”
“I said get your ass inside!”
Grabbing his shirt, I lift him onto his tiptoes. “Don’t you ever fucking yell at her like that again. Speak to her the way she deserves, or I’ll make sure you never speak again.”
“Zep, let him go. He just… He doesn’t know. It’s okay. I’m okay,” Bernie says, patting my elbow.
Doing as she requests, I release her sperm donor with a shove hard enough to make him stumble. This man is not a father. I’m not her father, but at least I’d like to be.
“I guess I made a mistake not fighting for custody if Misty lets our daughter around scum like you,” Ben says.
“Dad, that’s not nice. He’s a nice guy. When he doesn’t do stupid things like kiss the mean girl.”
Great. “Thanks, Bernie,” I say.
“Maybe I should take Bernie from Misty. She clearly can’t parent.”
“No!” Bernie says and hides behind my legs. “You can’t take me from Mom. She’s the best mom in the world.”
“Bernadette, you don’t get a say in this.”
“It’s my life, Dad.”
He shakes his head. “You deserve better than this.”
“I don’t even know you. I don’t want to leave Mom.”
“I know she’s poisoned you against me. But I was young when I told her we shouldn’t have you after finding out you were sick.”
Eyes wide, I stare, not believing he actually just told his daughter he didn’t want her. Not just not want her but not want her alive.
“You didn’t want me?”
Her voice is so small and broken that I want to strangle this motherfucker.
“I was sixteen. I wasn’t ready to take care of a mentally challenged child.”
“What the fuck did you just call her?” I growl.
“Stay out of this, asshole,” he says. “I was young when this happened. I still am, but I understand now. Regardless of whether I feel like your mom made the right choice by having you, I know I need to take responsibility for my mistakes.”
I can’t hold back any longer. Grabbing him by his shirt, I nearly break my knuckles on his face. “A mistake is realizing you forgot toilet paper while shitting on the toilet, not having a child, you motherfucker!”
Bernie doesn’t tell me to stop. I don’t think. I’m not sure I could hear much over my rage right now, and after three more hits, he falls to the ground. His eye droops, and I know I broke his cheekbone.
Good.
“Zeppelin, what the hell?” Misty shouts and runs up the sidewalk. “Ben?”
“He—”
“Go!” she shouts. “God, Ben, are you okay? What the hell were you thinking, Zeppelin?”
Glancing at Bernie, I shake out my fist. “Don’t you listen to him, Bernie, okay? It’s not true. Not even close.”
“Wait, what did he say?” Misty asks, finally seeing her daughter standing on the porch crying.
At least I got to beat the shit out of someone today. The fact it was her baby daddy made my day just a little better.