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Again, she presses her knees together.
She forces herself to look me in the eyes. "You're deflecting with sex again."
Shit, she's right. I nod.
"You don't want to talk about this?"
I nod.
Her eyes fill with affection. "Tell me anyway."
"I gave my dad a bunch of bullshit reasons why I shouldn't have to do soccer. They were technically true—soccer would mean less time for homework, and games would go late on school nights, and I did know kids who sprained their ankles doing it the year before—but they weren't things I cared about."
"Your dad bought it?"
"I don't think so, but he didn't care. He saw a logical reason, he agreed. He told me I didn't have to do it. Even when I told him Mom insisted."
"Oh."
"She was furious. It was the first time I really saw them fight. It was the first time I realized shit wasn't perfect. He went right to what he knew would hurt her the most, saying she was a bad mother for going back to work. It was only part-time, while we were at school. And it wasn't like he could talk. He worked nonstop. Still does."
Bella rubs the space between my thumb and forefinger with her thumb. Her eyes are fixed on mine. She's really listening.
She really fucking cares.
I have to say this. Even if I don't want to. "I didn't hear much. They went to his office and locked the door. Then she came out, crying. And I made a joke and we laughed it off. And I convinced myself that it was fixed. Every time they fought, I cheered her up, and I convinced both of us that everything was perfect except for little hiccups."
"Until you couldn't?"
"Yeah. Every time Mom was upset… until she told me about the divorce. I couldn't make a joke. I couldn't laugh that off."
Bella rests her head on my shoulder. "She seemed happy."
"She did. But I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that I've been bullshitting myself for the last ten years."
"When you're usually the one calling people on bullshit?"
"Guess I'm a hypocrite."
"We all are." She intertwines her fingers with mine. "Do you still hate your dad?"
"Not his biggest fan at the moment. The shit he said when he told me about the divorce… he might as well have told me having kids was his biggest regret."
Her voice gets soft. "That must hurt."
"Yeah."
"Did you pretend to laugh it off?"
I chuckle. "How the fuck did you know?"
"It's easier to pretend like it doesn't hurt." She moves close enough that her body warms mine.
I slide my hand into her hair and pull her into a deep kiss. Then my hands are on her neck. I can't talk about this anymore. I don't even want to think about it.
Too much is changing.
I need to be someplace where things make sense.
