Chapter 7
The hotel is pretty much quiet. There are quite a few people around, and the gerbils are hanging out in their carrier on the counter in my room while I head down to the pool.
Yeah, there's a pool at home in that big, empty house, but at least there are actual people down here.
Being around other humans makes me feel like less of a complete loser.
Not that swimming alone is bad. I've done it plenty of times.
But swimming by yourself when you're already lonely and sad just feels weird.
Dipping my feet into the water, a memory comes rushing back.
"Push the pedal! Push the pedal and let go!" my dad was shouting, running alongside me.
I didn't listen to him. My whole body just locked up, because when you're a kid, that's just what you do.
The little bike with the training wheels started tipping hard to the side.
Before I could hit the pavement, my dad lunged forward, catching the frame and taking the fall himself, landing hard against the sharp gravel and rocks to keep me from getting smashed.
"You catched me, Daddy!" my little girl voice squeaked.
Dad let out a breathless laugh, sitting up. "Yes, I did. You did so good."
"I'm sorry, Daddy."
"No, no, you did so good. You did really, really good," he promised, setting me gently on the grass. "We'll try again, okay?"
He stood up, looking down at his knees. Both of them were bloody, raw, and scuffed up. He stared at them like, man, that's gonna leave a scar, and wiped the grit away from the skin.
Pointing a tiny finger at his leg, my lower lip started trembling. "Daddy, you hurt!"
Looking from the tiny bike to the blood running down his leg, I just started bawling at the top of my lungs.
"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked quickly, dropping down to eye level.
"You hurt! You hurt because of me!" I was completely freaking out, mostly because before that moment, I'd never seen my father bleed in my entire life.
"Melody, come here, girl. Come here, my sweetheart." He scooped me up into his arms, holding me tight against his chest. "It doesn't hurt. You don't have to worry about Daddy."
"I'll always worry about you, Daddy," I sniffled into his neck. "I don't want you to be hurt."
"How about this?" he asked, rubbing my back. "How about you help me feel better? Would that make you feel better if you bandage Daddy up? Get Daddy a bandage?"
Wiping my nose, I nodded. "Yeah."
"Okay. Let's go get a bandage for Daddy."
He carried me inside the house, where my mom's voice was already echoing down the hallway.
"Chaquille!" she snapped, following us straight into the bathroom. "I told you to turn off the heat when you leave the house! Nobody's in here during the day, and you're running up the gas bill!"
Dad didn't even look up to argue. He just kept his voice low so he wouldn't upset me. "Don't turn it off all the way. I put it on low because you don't want the pipes to freeze."
"Yeah, but the bill is so goddamn high! We could've used the money you blew on that damn truck. You did not need that truck! The van was perfectly fine."
"The van had transmission issues," he answered calmly, setting me on the bathroom counter. "It kept slipping on the highway."
"So you had to go get a brand new $60,000 pickup truck?"
"It's a Toyota. It's gonna last forever. It's an investment, and I'm making payments on it."
"Those are payments we could be using for other things!"
Dad turned his attention back to me, ignoring the rant. "Alright, sweetie, you gonna help wash off Daddy's cut?"
"I'll be really gentle, Daddy," I promised, taking the wet washcloth and lightly dabbing the scrape while he held my hand steady.
"Okay, now grab one of those big bandages out of the box."
Mom stepped into the doorway, crossing her arms. "You don't hear me talking to you?"
"Mommy, look!" I piped up proudly, holding the bandage up. "I'm taking care of Daddy!"
Mom looked furious for a second, but then her face completely softened. A small smile touched her lips. "You're a big girl."
"I'm a big girl because I make sure that Daddy's not hurt," I told her seriously. "And you have to make sure Daddy's not hurt too, Mommy."
"Mm-hm," Dad agreed with a smirk.
Mom let out a laugh, raising an eyebrow at him. I started giggling as I stuck the big band-aid right over his cut, leaning down to plant a loud kiss on his knee.
"Thank you so much, sweetie," Dad said, smiling wide. "You did such a good job."
Mom clapped her hands together. "You did a great job. You should be a nurse when you grow up."
"No. I'm gonna be a doctor! And then I'm gonna be a firefighter!"
"You're gonna do both?" Mom asked.
"Yes! And I'm gonna take care of Daddy, and I'm gonna take care of Mommy!"
Wrapping my arms tight around Dad's neck, he started cracking up. Mom laughed right along with him, and hearing them both made me laugh even harder.
Mom stepped closer, pressing a kiss to my cheek. She rested her hand on Dad's shoulder and looked down at him.
"You're a good father," she said softly.
Blinking against the bright hotel lights, the memory fades away. I'm sitting alone by the edge of the water, the ripples lapping quietly against my feet.
I do a few more laps across the pool, cutting through the cool water, when a voice cuts in from the edge.
"You really gotta stop stalking me."
Stopping at the tile wall, I grab onto the ledge and look up, my heart instantly kicking up into high gear.
"Oh my god. Terry?"
He gives me a smile, rubbing a towel through his damp hair. Leaning over the side, he offers a hand and helps me up out of the pool. I give him a quick, awkward hug before stepping back.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, plastering a smile on my face while my heart is pounding like crazy. Boomp, boomp, boomp. Get the fuck out of here, girl. What are you even doing?
"Well, I was swimming," he says.
"I didn't see you swimming."
"I was over there on the other end. I didn't even know that was you."
"Oh my god. So what's up?" I say, sounding totally strange and awkward.
"Nothing much. It's gonna be my last day here."
"Wait. Here in Denver or in—"
"Colorado."
"Oh, wow. Where are you heading off to?"
"Would you like to know?" He gives me a sly little smile. "You staying here?"
"I'm gonna check out tomorrow, I think. Or maybe... I don't know. Depends."
He nods. His physique looks amazing. Not as massive as Daniel's, but he's got that lean, athletic muscle thing going on.
"I'm going back to Ohio," he tells me.
"Oh, wow. So you don't live here?"
"No. My dad..."
"That's right. How are things going with the whole divorce thing?"
Shaking his head, he looks straight ahead as we walk along the wet pavement toward the patio, flashing an awkward, tight smile.
"Yeah. He's not in a good place right now. Nothing really I can do about it. He straight up fought me."
"Like a physical fight?" I ask in complete shock.
"Physical fight."
"Oh my god. What the hell happened?"
"I told him to get his shit together, and I don't know, man. I think my job here is done. That's all I'm gonna say."
"That really sucks. I'm sorry. Like, you're trying to help people and then they wanna kill you."
"Basically."
We head over to the pool locker area so he can grab his clothes. When he comes back out, he meets me near the walkway.
"Hey. You wanna have lunch? I'm leaving anyway."
Daniel has lunch with his associates all the time.
"As friends, right?" I ask.
"Well, I'm leaving, so I don't even know if I'd call us friends. More like two strangers just eating something together."
"Fair enough. I'll buy."
"No. I'll pay," he says.
"How about we each pay for our lunch?"
"Whatever floats your boat, Miss Independent."
A small smile slips out.
"Miss Independent who uses her husband's money and goes out on her husband's boat, but doesn't bring her husband," he teases.
"Okay, you need to shut up," I laugh, giving his arm a playful shove.
We walk over to a little cafe spot right near the hotel. Sitting outside with our plates, I dig into my order of crispy fries, grilled fish, and a side of roasted brussels sprouts. Terry stares down at my plate, wrinkling his nose in pure disgust.
"What?" I ask with a laugh.
"That's disgusting."
"What are you talking about? This is so good! You haven't even tried it."
"Brussels sprouts with fries and fish? Are you an alien?"
"You haven't tried it."
"I'm not eating that shit," he insists as I fork a brussels sprout and push it toward his face.
"Just take one! They make it taste really good, and it's super good for you."
"Yeah, I'm sure it is. I'm not eating anything that looks remotely reptilian."
"Okay, whatever you say."
Chewing on a fry, I lean back against the chair. "So what are you gonna do about your daughter? Have you talked to any lawyers?"
"I've talked to them," he sighs, staring down at his plate.
"There's only so much American lawyers can do from over here, and the Japanese legal system is a whole different beast. It feels like everything is stacked against me, and I just don't have the kind of money it takes to fight an international custody battle. "
"Hold on."
Opening my bag, I start pulling out a thick stack of cash from my wallet.
"No. What are you doing?" he snaps, his face instantly dropping.
"I know it's not gonna solve everything, but—"
"No. Holy shit, man. Don't... wow." He abruptly shoves his chair back and starts violently wrapping up his food container.
"What's wrong?" I ask, completely caught off guard.
"You're just like my father."
"Excuse me?" my eyebrows pull together in pure confusion.
"I tell you all the heavy shit going on in my life, and your first reaction is to throw cash in my face?"
"Terry, bro, what the hell? You were just telling me you couldn't afford it!"
"I wasn't asking for your money!"
"Why are you getting so mad?" I fire back. "Someone is actually willing to help you out here! I didn't ask you to air all your personal drama to me."
"You're right. You didn't."
"Yeah! So I'm trying to do what I can to help! Holy fuck, you don't have to get that fucking mad over it! Why are you taking it as an insult? I would think you'd want every possible avenue to help your daughter."
"As long as you feel like a saint right with your riches and shit. I get to be the beggar, right?"
I sit there dumbfounded.
The hell is this guy’s actual problem?
From where I'm sitting, having the resources to fix a problem is just practical.
Honestly, who looks at someone offering money to help solve a financial issue as some kind of personal attack?
My eyes cast him a seriously concerned glare. Taking in a deep breath, I close my eyes dramatically slow before opening them to look away.
Terry pauses, running a hand over his face before letting out a rough breath. "Look... I'm… I’m sorry. It's not your fault. You were just trying to help, but no. I shouldn't have blown up on you like that. It's just..."
"Just what?" I snip.
"My dad wasn't around for most of my life," he explains quietly.
"Whenever he missed a birthday, or wasn't there when I actually needed a father, he'd just…” Terry throws up a hand.
“… wire a bunch of money like that made everything okay. I work. I make my own living. So whenever people just throw cash at me, it feels like everyone’s looking down on me like he did.
Like, 'Oh, poor you, here's some pocket change so I don't have to hear about it. '"
My lips tighten to form a thin line.
"I will never complain about people giving money," I tell him flatly. "I grew up dirt poor. My parents were barely making it hand-to-mouth, constantly screaming and fighting over every single dime. If someone offers help with no strings attached, you take it."
"And are there strings attached to this?"
"No! Of course not. I'm legitimately just willing to give you the money."
Terry looks at me for a second, then forces his own tight smile. "It was nice meeting you, Melody."
He steps in to hug me, but I take a quick step back.
"No, no, no,” I say sourly. "It was nice meeting you too up until this point, but don't lash out at me, act all crazy, and then try to hug me goodbye."
My lip curls in disgust as I eye him up and down while grabbing my bag and food, and I head out.
"Melody, wait!"
"No. Good luck with Bella, seriously."
Walking briskly across the street, I head back toward the hotel lobby and take the elevator up. The doors barely open on my floor before footsteps come rushing down the hall behind me.
"Melody!" Terry calls out, breathing hard.
Turning around at my door, I glare. "What are you doing?"
"Please. I don't want us to leave on bad terms."
"You made sure that—"
"I'm sorry. Look, I'm sorry." He places a hand gently over his chest, his expression completely sincere. “… I'm sorry.”
Silence.
His eyes look sad, filled with regret. Or maybe that’s just because I didn’t bow to the ground and respond the way he wanted me to.
He catches his breath. “You're the realest person I've met in a really long time, and I don't know... in that moment, it just felt like you were treating me like everybody else does. But that wasn't your fault. That's a me problem. I'm really sorry. Please forgive me."
He looks so vulnerable standing there.
My heart bleeds. Because it’s weak.
"I forgive you, but you're not coming in my room," I tell him in a guarded tone.
"Fair enough," he says softly. "But at least let me give you a proper goodbye."
Hesitating for a few seconds, I finally step forward and let him wrap his arms around me. We hug tightly right there in the hallway outside my door. It's a warm, solid hug, and he holds on for a long time.
Against my hip, I feel him starting to get hard.
A sudden shiver runs up my arms, raising goosebumps along my skin. As horny and lonely as I've been feeling, I am not going down this road.
Stepping back, I gently break the hug and pat his chest twice.
"Good luck on your trip, Terry. I really do wish you luck."
"Thanks," he says quietly. "You too."
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