Chapter Twenty-Eight December 31 #3
“My dad,” John says, his voice low, chin tipped to his chest. “A few months after he was injured at work, he got really drunk. He dropped his beer bottle on the kitchen floor and didn’t even flinch.
I saw he was barefoot and about to step on a piece of glass so I dove for the shard, but I guess his reflexes kicked into gear because he swiped it before I could and waved his hand at me, not realizing how close I was.
” He sucks in his lips as he takes in a deep breath.
“Sliced my lip right open. He was too drunk to drive me to the hospital and my mom wasn’t home, so he told me to go to the neighbor’s and ask them for a ride.
He made me lie. Said to tell them I fell off my skateboard.
He said if they knew the truth, the police might come after him. Or separate us.”
I watch as his breath stills to a slow, steady beat, and I take his hand in mine.
“When your dad said that thing about me not trying hard enough to keep Theo from drinking…” His voice cracks. “It was like a shard of glass slicing through me again, because the truth is, all I ever do is try.”
I run a finger over his scar, staring into his eyes. My need to be close to him is stronger than any fear I have of being caught. “He’s wrong. I would choose you over them. Every single one of them,” I say, each word punctuated, in slow, steady beats.
“I know.” He nods, pressing his forehead to mine. “But I can’t let you. They love you, Lennon, and they’re just trying to protect you.”
“From what? Happiness? Love?”
“It scares them.”
“No. You scare them. They know that you are the one person I would leave them all behind for.”
His eyes shut tight again as he exhales a deep sigh.
“You need them more right now than you need me,” he says, looking at me.
“There is so much out there waiting for you. So much life to live. They’re your foundation.
You need them to set you up for the life you deserve.
I can’t do that, Lennon.” I shake my head, but he holds it steady in his hands, grounding me.
“It kills me. I wish I could. I wish I could be like Theo. I wish your father looked at me the way he looks at him. I wish he could see that I love you as much as he loves you.”
“Screw him,” I say, the tears spilling out. “I don’t care about him.”
“Yes you do. He’s your father. He’s trying his best. They’re all trying their best not to mess us up.”
“Why? What do we owe them?”
“Eighteen years?” He says it with a forced laugh as he tucks hair behind my ears, gently. “Then you’ll be free.”
I laugh. “I’ll never be free of him. Not until—”
“Don’t say something you’ll regret.”
The exterior lights turn on, spilling into John’s car. He pulls away from me like it’s a learned behavior. I guess it is. I look up to see my father standing in the front door, arms crossed.
I place my hand on the door handle and turn back to John. “You cut your hair.”
“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his short locks as if he’s just remembered.
“I fucking hate it.”
He laughs. “I fucking hate it too.”
I open the door and get out, closing it gently behind me. Taking in a deep breath, I walk toward my father. Our shoulders brush as I step inside. He takes my wrist, stopping me.
“You made the right decision.” He says it so smugly. Like he’s just so sure of himself. Like he knew I’d come back. I always come back.
“When are you going to open your eyes?” I ask, pulling away from his grasp.
I can hear the lack of emotion in my voice, so flat it’s bordering on pathological.
Dad’s expression shifts from self-assured to shocked.
I half expected a slap across the face for my tone, but he just stares at me, eyes wide.
“Theo is not who you think he is. He’s got both you and Mom fooled.
Is that really who you want me to end up with?
” I ask, throwing an arm to the family room, where Theo remains passed out.
“People make mistakes when they’re hurting,” Dad replies.
“This isn’t about him being drunk. It’s about how he treated me when we were together.
Like I was his to own.” I exhale sharply as I search for my filter.
I have to be careful not to say too much, but I also have to say something.
I’m so tired of them thinking that Theo is some sort of hero.
The ideal. He’s not. He’s human like the rest of us, flaws and all.
“He loved you very much.”
“He did.” I nod, breathing in and out, slowly.
“But loving someone doesn’t give a person the right to…
” My heart races again as I struggle to find the right words.
This isn’t a conversation I had planned out in my head.
My points aren’t rehearsed. My emotions are too jumbled up with my thoughts, with the message I want to get across.
“You judge people on a really superficial level, Dad. Theo. John. Me. We’re more than what you see.
There’s so much you don’t know about us, about the situation. ”
“If you are finished with Theo, fine, be finished with him. But I will never accept this John character. He’s not right for you.”
“No.” I shake my head. “He’s not right for you.” Dad and I stare at one another, the quiet floating between us like thick fog. “Theo can’t be here when I wake up tomorrow morning.”
I take off my shoes before running up the stairs, back to my beautiful cage, where I cry myself to sleep on a bed of withering petals.