2 - Penny
Penny
My bio dad vanished into the night after my mother told him she was pregnant with me. Then he died in a motorcycle accident when I was six.
I don’t have much experience with fathers. I’m sure most look at their daughters with love and happiness if they haven’t seen them in a while.
Jacob, the only father-figure I’ve ever had, looks at me like he wants to shove me down the hill. He would dust his hands in satisfaction while I’m tumbling to the bottom and say to himself, There. Just what the bitch deserves.
And I do deserve it.
His face is mostly the same, though he’s different. In the past, his clothes said everything about his finances.
It’s strange to see him dressed so normally now in a black winter jacket instead of an expensive overcoat, worn jeans instead of designer ones, and scuffed boots instead of shined loafers.
Even his grey beanie and mauve scarf look like the kind from the dollar store.
“What are you doing here?”
Jacob’s disdain is heavy around the word you. It’s a knife slicing at my heart and my hope for rescue.
“I—I wanted—”
I rehearsed what I was going to say during the drive up here.
It was supposed to begin with a heartfelt apology, but the words are all gone.
I’m only running on three hours of sleep.
I used up most of my brain power white-knuckle driving on icy roads because I forgot to switch my car to winter tires.
“You know what? I don’t care. You need to leave.”
I wring my hands. “But—”
“Leave. Now.” His scowl deepens as he looks over my shoulder. “You and your mother. I know she’s hiding in the car.”
His upper lip curls as though the words tasted bad. I suppose talking about Mom would make him nauseous.
“She isn’t. She died six months ago.”
I wait for him to respond with good riddance. The hostility in his blue eyes says he’s thinking it, though he doesn’t say the words.
Maybe because Mom already stole a lot from him. He doesn’t want her to take his decency too by speaking ill of the dead.
Jacob makes an abrupt turn, his long legs swiftly carrying him up his driveway toward his porch steps. Panic comes alive and I hurry after him.
“Wait! Please! I need your help.”
He pauses with one foot on the first step, his back still turned to me.
“Help with what?”
A freezing breeze slaps my face right as I’m about to answer. I gasp and blink quickly, shuddering from the attack.
Winter in Toronto is tropical compared to this town. My jacket isn’t thick enough. I’m not wearing enough layers under it to handle this kind of weather.
“Can we talk inside?”
He turns slowly and pins me with that stony expression again.
“Why would I let you inside my house?”
“It’s really cold out here.”
“Then hurry up and say what you have to say. Though it’s probably nothing but lies.”
His meanness is as breathtaking as the cold. It’s not only the dry air making my eyes tear up. I was prepared for him to be unhappy to see me, not for him to be so unpleasant.
Jacob won’t help me no matter what I say. Of course he’s incapable of sympathy for me after what I did to him. But I came this far already. I might as well try.
“Mom owed someone a lot of money. After she died, he said I inherited her debt, and if I can’t pay in cash, I’ll—I’ll have to pay it in other ways.”
My skin crawls as that encounter replays in my mind. The way the stocky guy in the black leather jacket slid a predatory look over my body. It was as if his cold gaze saw through my clothes.
“Oh, so you came all the way up north to find me and beg me for money?” Jacob lets out a mocking laugh. “Unbelievable. Like mother, like daughter.”
For him to compare me to Mom is another slice in my chest, but I forget about the hurt as he stalks toward me. My body tenses. The sky is turning darker and I’m alone with a man who hates me for good reason.
“You must think I’m an idiot.” His voice is too calm for the intensity in his eyes. “You must really believe I’m the biggest chump to fall for that trick again.”
“It’s not a trick.”
“Your mother isn’t dead.”
“She is—”
“She put you up to this.”
“She didn’t! I’m telling—”
“Both of you are trying to ruin my life again.”
“Jake—”
He invades my personal space. I cave to his towering intimidation, quickly retreating to a safe distance. My heart feels like it’s trying to escape my body.
“I said leave. Don’t fucking come back.”
Another freezing breeze sweeps by, whipping strands of my hair against my numb face. Fear, shame, hurt, and regret twist together in a heavy, horrible sensation in my gut.
I back away and hurry for the driver’s side of my car. I climb in and speed down the hill while hot tears roll down my tingling cheeks.
When my vision becomes too blurry, I pull to the shoulder. I lay my arms across the wheel and my head against them. I let myself cry even though I feel pathetic doing it.
Of course my reunion with Jacob immediately went to shit. It’s stupid to cry when I knew before I left home that I was making a huge mistake.
Desperation makes bad ideas look like good ones. When Elizabeth said that Jacob was the best solution to my scary problem, I said, “No way.” My name is number two on his hit list of people who screwed him over. I’m next in line now that number one is dead.
“Oh, that’s not true,” Elizabeth said. She was sure her brother would help me. After all, I was only a kid when I poured fuel on the fire that burned his life to the ground. “You’re family. He’ll take care of you.”
Except, being family doesn’t guarantee good treatment. Family can even be a prison, shared blood like a rope tying someone in place so they’re forced to accept abuse.
My mother was family, yet nothing was ever unconditional with her. Whenever she gave, she did it with one hand and took away with the other.
As much as I wanted to believe Elizabeth, I knew the danger in false hope. The bitter disappointment. I told her I would figure it out on my own like I always do.
Then my scary problem became life-threatening, and I was out of options. It was either the devil I know or the hell I didn’t want to know.
I made the harder choice to talk to Jacob in person because I knew he would hang up on me if I called. On the five-hour drive up here from the city, I let myself give in to hope instead of the panic attack waiting in the wings.
“Surprise, surprise. It’s the disappointment,” I say with a sniffle.
Anyone with the tiniest bit of foresight would’ve expected this. The last time Jacob and I were in the same room together was likely one of the worst days of his life.
And I caused it.
Nearly a decade later, I’m begging him for financial assistance and I didn’t even give him my long overdue apology first.
I straighten in my seat and wipe my face with my jacket sleeves. My glove compartment rattles when I open it. I fish out a napkin that came from a coffee shop and blow my nose.
There’s a gap in my windshield that’s not fogged up. I stare through it. My headlights shine on snowflakes lazily drifting down from the sky and the long, empty road ahead.
My mother dangled love above my head, just out of reach.
My ex-stepfather despises me.
I slap my steering wheel three times. My horn lets out a short honk on the third one.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself! It does fuck all!”
I wrap my fingers around my steering wheel and squeeze it tight. A deep breath gives me some strength and clarity.
What I need to do is come up with a new plan. Although, I can’t do that right now. I’m exhausted from the drive, a dull ache pounds in my head, and my stomach feels hollow. All I had to eat today were some cranberry oatmeal cookies and a cup of coffee.
Food and sleep. That’s what I need. I’ll find a cheap motel for the night before heading back to Toronto tomorrow morning.
Leave. Now.
Don’t fucking come back.
I shove Jacob’s callous words out of my mind and roll my shoulders to ease the stiffness. Then I pull my car back onto the road.