Chapter 39
“Why did that young man burst into your apartment like he owns the place?” my dad asks.
He’s always been like this. On the surface he’s polite, unassuming. A man who got dealt a bad hand the second the divorce papers were signed and he had sole custody of a pre-teen daughter.
But, in what I assume was an effort for him to control what felt out of control, his word was law. The result was me learning that if I stayed out of the way, if I stayed quiet and compliant, he generally left me alone. I was an easy kid for all intents and purposes.
That’s probably part of the reason he was so surprised when I started pushing back. Accepted my diagnosis, accepted my sexuality, accepted myself.
He didn’t like that.
It was out of his control.
“Colette, answer me.” His tone turns harsh.
“He has a key,” I reply. “He’s allowed to be here.”
“Is that so?” He raises a single eyebrow at me, and I know it’s a look I’ve given Ben hundreds of times. Damn him for ruining it.
My sigh is long-suffering. I don’t know why Dad is here. I don’t really give a fuck, if I’m being honest. The conversation between Ben and his mom is still running through my head. I would rather be getting answers to that than figuring out how and why my dad is at my apartment right now.
“Yes, it is so,” I reply. “And he wasn’t wrong to question why you were here.”
“I’m your father,” he quickly replies.
“In name only,” I fire back. “And that was your choice.”
He gives me a frustrated look. “That’s not fair, Colette. I raised you. You owe me the decency of spending time with me when I come all the way here.”
“I made sure I wouldn’t ever owe you anything again after I left for college. I owe you nothing,” I reply. “When was the last time we spoke to each other?”
He’s sitting across the dining table from me, rubbing his hands down his thighs. He doesn’t know the answer to my question but he’ll never admit it.
“You didn’t even bother to call me on my birthday,” I continue. “I said all I needed to say to you the last time we talked. Wasn’t that before you moved? So unless you have something revelatory to tell me, you can leave.”
He thinks for a moment but doesn’t show any indication that he’s going to comply with my request. “I was right about it being a phase, wasn’t I?” he finally asks.
“I’m not following.”
Dad waves his hand in front of his face. “You know. The dating girls thing. What did you call it? Not gay but something else.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” I rub my temples, already sick of his bullshit.
“What?” He feigns innocence. “Ben seems very comfortable around you, and I know for sure he is a man. I remember watching him at your track meets on occasion—great athlete. Does he still run?”
“For fuck’s sake. I need you to leave.”
His face hardens. “Don’t speak to me like that, Colette.”
My hands slam down on the table, shocking the both of us.
“No, you don’t speak to me like that. You haven’t changed at all.
You’re still questioning my sexuality—queer is the word you were looking for, by the way, and no, it was not a phase.
I still very much like men and women and non-binary people, but I do not owe you or anyone else an explanation for that. ”
“But Ben is—”
“A man, yes! But I didn’t have a choice with him. He is… actually, I’m not talking about this with you!” I shake my head. “Is that why you are here? Just to have the same argument we have every time we see each other?”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “No, I was actually nearby and I thought I’d drop by.”
“I’m afraid to ask, but why were you nearby?”
“I was in Boston,” he continues. “Visiting your mom.”
My nails scrape across my scalp, digging in until it’s almost painful. “Why?” I grit out.
“We’ve been talking, you know.”
“I don’t.”
He looks at his hands. “Right, well. We started talking again a while back.”
“As soon as I wasn’t in the way, you mean? I was always the problem in your marriage, wasn’t I?” My anger is reaching a boiling point, and it’s like watching a trainwreck—I couldn’t stop it if I tried.
“That’s an exaggeration, Colette. You always overreact.” He gives me a one-two punch with two of my favorite triggering phrases.
“Amazing,” I reply, sarcasm dripping off each syllable. “So happy that you and Mom are back together. Fuck, that’s what every divorced kid dreams of, isn’t it? You two can go ride off into the sunset. Please don’t invite me to the wedding.”
“So dramatic,” he sighs. And I see Ben’s favorite color—red.
“Get out.”
He continues to stay seated.
“Get out, Dad. I’m so fucking for real, I will call the police.”
I can tell he doesn’t think I’m serious because he moves at a glacial pace as he pushes back from the table and rises to his full height.
It takes everything in me not to scream at him again, but I can see he’s resigned himself to leaving, he’s just going to test every shred of patience I have in the meantime.
When he finally gets to the door, he turns to me. Stupidly, I have the smallest shred of hope that he’ll apologize for all of the damage he’s caused. Instead, he says, “Call me when you come to your senses.”
The door shuts, and I beeline straight to the couch where I snatch a pillow and finally let out the scream I’ve been holding in.
Ben
Red, are you ok?
I would really like for you to answer so I stop worrying.
I don’t want to intrude again but I will if you don’t start answering my calls.
I’m trying to respect your wishes but I’m losing my mind over here.
On my way over.
I wake up to the sound of my apartment door opening.
I can’t remember if I locked it after Dad left, and it would really suck if someone was coming to murder me right now.
Snuggling under my blanket, I listen to see if I recognize the sound of the intruder’s footfalls as they walk further into the space.
The fact that Ernest doesn’t bark should be my first indication, but it’s not until I hear a familiar, “Red?” that I realize I’m not about to be brutally murdered in my apartment.
“Over here,” I call, poking my head out from under the blanket.
He throws his jacket over the back of the chaise and hurries around to where I’m lying on the couch. “Red, what the fuck? I’ve been trying to check on you for over an hour!”
I scrub the sleep out of my eyes. “Sorry, I must have passed out after my dad left. I was so drained after our conversation…” I look down and realize I didn’t even get my shoes off before I fell asleep. “What time is it?”
“Close to five,” he replies. “Here, let me help you.”
He starts to untie my Doc Marten’s when I have the sudden realization that I’m mad at him, too. “Wait!” I say, sitting up so I can face him. I’ve got to rip the bandaid off before I lose steam.
Ben looks at me with a bemused expression. “Wait to take your shoes off?” he asks, a furrow in his brow.
“No, I don’t care about the shoes. I—” Shit. “What do you need to tell me?”
This apparently doesn’t clear things up for him. “What do I—?”
“I heard you,” I interrupt. “Talking to your mom this morning. In her office.”
A look of genuine surprises crosses his face. “You did? How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know that you have something to tell me and your mom thinks you need to go ahead and do it. So, come on. What is it? You’ve just been fucking with me this entire time? It’s all a big joke to you? Is that it?”
Ben’s expression turns stern. “Absolutely not. I would never be that cruel.”
“Wouldn’t you?” I ask. “Aren’t you the one who tricked me into this whole pact situation to begin with?”
“Twelve years ago? Okay so high-school me was a bit immature, big surprise there.” He scoffs. “But now? You know better than that now.” His voice is imploring. He wants me to agree with him but I can’t, not until I know what he’s hiding from me.
“What is it then? You know honesty and transparency is all I’ve asked of you. Just tell me.”
We’re both standing now, facing each other. I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“I have been honest with you,” he replies.
“But?” I prompt. He hesitates, fighting a battle that I’m not privy to. And I’m so fucking tired of living on the outside of my own damn life. “Just fucking tell me!”
“I funded your grant.”
“You…” I take a step back, a step away from him, but the lace on my shoe that Ben untied catches me, and I’m falling.
Ben tries to catch me but he’s not fast enough.
I land hard on the edge of the coffee table, flipping it sideways so the puzzle on top goes flying, scattering pieces all over my living room.
You know when something is so surprising, even if it’s not the worst thing to happen to you that day, it sends you over the edge? The last puzzle piece falls into my lap and it’s like a rock hitting a window.
I shatter.
The first tear falls before I even realize what’s happening. It slides off the edge of my nose, dropping soundlessly.
“Cole, talk to me.” Ben is kneeling in front of me now, his mouth tight.
I shake my head, covering my mouth before an embarrassing sound comes out. It’s not even necessarily his revelation, though I’m not thrilled about it, but the fact that he kept it from me. That I didn’t have a choice in the matter. In something that affects my life.
Again, I have the feeling of being an observer of someone who looks like me and acts like me but isn’t allowed to make her own decisions.
“You had no right,” I say, pitifully splayed out on the floor like a toddler.
“I only wanted to help,” he pleads.
But I’m manic now. “I don’t need your help! I don’t need anyone’s help! People do nice things and then they… they hold it over your head as if you owe them.”
“That’s not what’s happening, Cole.”
“Then why? Why do that? Why not ask if I wanted help?”
Ben’s face waivers between anger and frustration. “Because I love you, Colette!” he yells. “Because I love you and I’d do whatever it takes to make you happy!”
He pushes his hair off his forehead only for it to flop back down.
“I’ve told you,” I whisper. “What would make me happy is you communicating with me. Asking me for permission before you make life-changing decisions on my behalf.”
“You needed a push,” he says, and I think he’s trying to convince himself more than me.
“I needed a partner,” I correct.
He looks back and forth between my eyes, searching. “I can be that for you,” he finally says.
“Yeah?” I ask. “What else are you hiding from me?”
His wince is microscopic, but I catch it anyway.
“For fuck’s sake,” I cry. “I need you to leave.”
I’m having déjà vu after having to repeat that same phrase over and over again today.
Ben stands and I follow, kicking my shoes off so they don’t trip me again.
“At least let me help clean up,” he says, looking down at the mess.
“No,” I reply, pointing toward the door.
He’s resigned when he says, “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
“For once in your life, listen to me. I. Need. Space. Please respect that.”
Ben, the man that is perpetually happy, doesn’t have a smile line in sight. His hand brushes against mine and my palm aches. When we reach the door, Ben’s eyes are red rimmed. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“I know. But you did.” His pinky loops into mine and he raises my hand, planting a quick kiss on my empty ring finger. “Shit. I should—let me go get your ring.”
I pull my hand away from his but he only grasps me tighter. “No,” he replies, a command and a plea. “No, if you—” His voice cracks and my last thread of control snaps.
“Okay, I won’t. I’ll keep it,” I quickly reassure.
He clears his throat. “I’ll give you space. But please don’t forget about me.”
“Impossible.”
His smile is devastation incarnate. He wraps his free hand around my head, pulling me in to plant a kiss on my forehead.
“Goodbye, Ben.”
“See you soon, Red,” he replies.
And it sounds a whole lot like a promise.