Chapter 10 #2
“If anything, I think I’m finally in my right mind.
” I stand to my full height, quietly pleased that I’m a good five inches taller.
“W-we aren’t being selfish or immature,” I say, and even though my tongue catches, I keep going.
“We’re living, breathing people with enough sense to recognise how t-toxic, unfeeling, unappreciative, and downright ill-mannered you are.
And we also recognise that we’re under no obligation to put up with it, whatever you might think.
You want us in your life? Earn it. Take a good, long look in the mirror and do better. ”
I said it. All of it.
I’m not sure who’s more stunned, him or me. He could have expected this from Sadie; she’s always spoken her mind loudly and proudly. Even Tim has pushed back when Dad disparaged his wife or daughter. But me? I’ve never even disagreed with him before.
“No!” he shouts louder than ever before, face reddening. “You do not speak to me like that! ‘Earn it’? I shouldn’t have to earn a bloody thing from any of you! I’m your father!”
“And while you continue to think like that, nothing is going to change.” Despite my inner swirling terror and discomfort at being yelled at, my voice stays soft and steady, which only throws his shouting into starker relief.
“Your… shittiness…” He gasps as I say the word, “has cost you your marriage and your relationships with your children. Look around you, Dad. You’re alone, and that’s on you.
We’re not the problem. You are. And until you understand that, and until you find real love in your heart for any of us, there’s no point in me being here. ”
I turn towards the door.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me, boy,” he snaps.
“Actually,” I say, “that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
My legs are shaking and my heart’s pounding, but I keep walking as he continues to shout behind me, and quietly close the door in more ways than one.
I pull over around the corner. I’m too dizzy and agitated to drive safely. My throat is tight and my hands are trembling on the wheel. I’ve never confronted anyone like that before, and it does not feel good. Necessary, yes. But not good.
Actually, the whole business was a sensory nightmare, and I feel like I could retch.
I remind myself that the alternative of rolling over, placating, and absorbing more of his bile would have been significantly worse. It still takes effort to slow my breathing.
Tippi.
There isn’t a single person on earth I’d rather be with right now. Even if she sets my insides fizzing, it’s a much nicer kind of electricity than this lingering surge of sick adrenaline.
I don’t think I could have done what I just did without her.
Since she blew into my life, she’s swept through like a glittering storm, shaking everything loose and letting the important pieces fall in new patterns.
She spoke to me about neurodivergence like it was normal, not shameful.
Because of that nudge, I got assessed, got answers, and started getting help.
She’s opened my eyes to new angles on life, sex, connection, myself.
And never once has she made me feel like some remedial case.
If she were staying…
My throat closes further. No. I can’t go there.
I just know I want to be near her. Now.
I text with clumsy fingers.
Jacob:
Where are you?
Mercifully, she doesn’t keep me waiting.
Tippi:
Helping Rhiannon pick her book to take to school tomorrow. Why?
Jacob:
I’ll be there in a few minutes.
Tippi:
Everything OK?
Jacob:
Yes. Just in need of a friendly face.
When I arrive, Tippi opens the door with our niece perched on her hip.
“Hey,” she says, and her smile soothes something raw inside me almost at once. Her hair’s piled into a messy bun, tendrils curling around her face. Her jeans might as well be painted on, and her sleeveless top dips low at the sides, offering the occasional glimpse of her bra.
I am only human.
“Uncle Jacob!” Rhiannon lunges for me. I take her and hug her close. She leans back to inspect my face with solemn eyes.
“Have you had a bad day?” she asks.
“Uh…” I can’t unload onto a child. “I had a tough moment,” I say.
“That’s OK. We can do some calming breaths together and maybe draw our feelings.” She pats my shoulder. “You can use my new pencils.”
Tippi beams at me over her head, and my heart melts.
The nerve of my father calling Sadie “immature” and Leo a “lout” will never cease to astonish me.
They’re raising a child who meets distress with kindness and practical ideas, love and boundaries.
They’re already better parents than he ever dreamed of being. Or cared to be.
“Come on in,” Tippi says. “I’ve got family dinner almost ready. Tacos sound good?”
My chest aches at the thought of being able to come home to this every day. To her. I can’t have that, but I can make the most of every second she’s here. “Tacos sound great.”
Family dinner is chaotic and glorious. Rhiannon chatters non-stop, taking us all through her day at school between mouthfuls of tortilla.
Sadie yawns her way through three tacos in record time, and Leo keeps trying to sneak extra cheese onto everyone’s plate.
Ezra and Toren grumble and gurgle as they snooze in their baby carriers, soothed by the low hum of everyone’s voices.
There’s laughter, overlapping conversation, set to a backdrop of a gentle clatter of cutlery and plates being passed back and forth.
It’s mundane. It’s special beyond measure.
After the cold, echoing silence of my father’s house, the warmth in this little kitchen hits me like sunlight after a storm, and for the first time all evening, I feel my shoulders properly loosen.