Chapter 44 Space
I don’t ever want to leave this room.
But also I do. I know I do—there are reasons. I want to go to work. I want to see Jordyn and Micah. I have to put my address into the journal. See what kind of task lies ahead today.
We slept like two rocks, fit perfectly against each other. I woke up feeling amazing. We had sex in bed. And sex in the shower. My body is tingling just thinking about it. I love this bubble.
I’ve never had so much consecutive sex. I’ve never wanted to. I’m insatiable.
I could go again right now.
I’m so annoying.
I feel like I’ve morphed into a pubescent boy.
I’m gonna accidentally give myself a urinary-tract infection.
We have twenty minutes till checkout, and I’m doing my makeup in the bathroom. My eyes are bright. Lips are swollen. Skin is red and irritated from his stubble. I quietly close the door and pull out the journal.
Feedback?
I sigh.
Did you know I was gonna shit myself in my ex’s office?
I flip the page.
That’s neither here nor there.
“Oh my god!”
“You okay?” Reed calls from the room.
“Fine! Sorry, thought I saw a spider. It was just . . . mascara.”
I turn the page again, more aggressively this time.
My intentions are pure.
Flip again.
5) Where would you like to go
X _____________________________
I write out my address, holding my breath as I flip.
Confront your father about showing up unannounced.
That is all.
Have fun.
I smack the small black print, irritation hissing out of me. “Why are you like this? What happened to bathing in a pool of 2 percent milk? Are you trying to get me killed?”
Should I just buy a plane ticket?
That’ll take the entire night and be extremely expensive in a world where I’m trying to save every penny until I have an updated salary locked in so I can afford a new, not-my-dad’s apartment.
I flip to the next page, like maybe there’ll be a different, less impossible thing waiting there that I can do instead.
Just trying to help you live a less fearful, fulfilling life.
I slam the journal shut and finish my makeup. I’m stiff with anxiety as I walk back into the room. Reed’s waiting on the bed, looking like a hot, concerned statue in an NYU T-shirt and jeans.
“I actually have to stop in and see my dad today. Would you maybe want to come?”
It’s 3 p.m. on a Sunday, and we’re in Pasadena, parked outside my dad’s house. I don’t think I can go in. But I googled plane tickets in the business lounge at our hotel, and it’s currently six hundred dollars for a one-way flight to Jersey.
Our phones are still dead. So I’m already going to be at least five hundred dollars in the hole there. I can’t drop six hundred dollars on a flight that I don’t have to take when I have a magical, all-knowing journal that’s both enhancing and ruining my life.
“May I ask the purpose of this visit?” Reed asks gently as I fiddle with my fingers. I offer a small smile. My hands are shaking.
“Remember when we were on the dock?”
The tiniest smile twitches into his lips. “That was yesterday. Yes. I remember.”
I huff a nothing-laugh. “Um, when you asked me what I would tell a patient who was going through this with their dad.”
He nods. “I didn’t ask you that to force you into an immediate confrontation.”
I press my lips together. “I think I would tell them to start small. Especially if they were in a precarious living situation. Delicate. To talk to him and gently explain how the most disruptive current behavior is hurting you, and that if it doesn’t stop, it’s going to hurt your relationship.
All my dad supposedly wants is . . . to be a part of my life.
And right now the bare minimum he could do is let me know when he’s going to be stopping over—”
“And you’re stopping over unannounced at his house to explain this?”
I nod, swallowing hard like a terrified cartoon character. “Sometimes it’s the most effective way to explain how something simple can be emotionally deregulating, inconvenient, and disruptive. Especially with people who lack the capacity to put themselves in someone else’s shoes.”
Hopefully he isn’t home, and I can just call him instead.
“And you’re terrified.”
“Well, no, I’m . . . mildly worried.”
“You’re literally shaking, Rick.”
“It’s going to be fine.”
“You don’t have to do this right now if you’re not ready.”
I close my eyes and blow out one more long breath. Don’t be a fucking coward. It’s long overdue that my father gets a lecture about boundaries. I should have done this a long time ago in regard to a million other things.
“I’m doing it. I’ll be right back. Keep the engine running, just in case we need a fast getaway.”
I hop out of the car with my everyday black purse slung across my chest and power walk to the yellow door of his house. I take the front steps at a run and pause, with my finger hovering over his doorbell.
Press it.
“You don’t have to press it.”
I jump out of my skin. Reed steadies me with hands on my shoulders before I can stumble off the steps. “What are you doing? You were supposed to wait in the car!”
“We can leave, Renee.”
“No, we can’t.”
“Why not?”
“You should just wait in the car,” I stress. “I don’t know how he’s going to react.”
“Exactly why there’s no chance in hell I’m going to wait in the car.”
I stab the doorbell and cringe as an old-fashioned grandfather clock noise reverberates through the house.
Don’t be home, don’t be home, don’t be home.
The door swings open.