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Dad does something rare. He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “You did and now it’s time to take care of yourself.”
“I could always be running,” I say.
“But it’s better than dead.” He pauses. “I may not have always done right by you. Given you the type of home you should have had. But I gave you what I had.”
When Dad goes to pull back, I grasp his hand. Needing his love. Needing his comfort. I think of that picture, the one he always carried on his phone. Of me covered in dirt, barely clothed, barely fed and wonder how, when he met me, he could feel anything other than disgust.
“You shouldn’t have taken me in,” I say, and all the guilt I’ve shoved down to the deepest and darkest parts of me surfaces and it’s the equivalent of being pummeled by an avalanche of boulders. “You wouldn’t be in here if it wasn’t for me.”
My father killed a man because of me.
Dad squeezes my hand then lets go. This time, I have to let him leave. “He threatened you and he would have hurt you, too, just to hurt me. I broke my own rule on caring and it backfired.”
Backfired because love isn’t allowed in hell and I don’t want to live in hell anymore.
“Why did you do it?” I ask, knowing if I don’t ask now I may never receive an answer. “Why did you take me in?” Even when you knew I wasn’t your child.
“We all have to pay for our sins,” he says. “When I saw you, I thought maybe saving you would take care of past ones and any future ones, as well. I never thought I’d care for you though. That was unexpected.”
“I love you,” I say, and it’s like my tongue twists with the words. We don’t say things like this to one another, but there’s a chance I’ll never see him again.
Dad grins, and it’s so shocking beautiful that it takes my breath away. “You were worth it, Abby. Having you around always made it all worth it.”
He looks at the clock and I know he wants to make it back to his cell before he’s caught in here longer than he wants to be. Once we go past a certain time, he has to stay in here regardless. Brief visits work better for him. He stands and so do I.
Dad mumbles something to the guard near us that he’s saying goodbye, and we briefly hug and it’s not nearly as long as I wish it could be. The ends of my mouth tremble, no matter how hard I try to keep them from moving. It’s even more difficult to blink away the wetness invading the edges of my eyes.
He kisses my temple and releases me, leaving me feeling cold and like I might collapse to the floor. A part of me still feels like I’m three, a part of me still needs my daddy.
Before he walks through the door to his side, Dad glances over his shoulder and raises his hand in goodbye.
“What was my name?” I ask, and don’t care that several people stop talking to stare at us.
“True,” he says. “She named you True.”
And just like I popped into his life all those years ago, he disappears from mine. I turn and begin the long road to absolutely nowhere.
Logan
I unlock the front door to Abby’s grandmother’s house and walk in before Abby does to check out the place. Isaiah’s staying on the front porch to act as guard. A quick glance around, Nadia places her finger to her mouth then points to Abby’s grandmother, who has nodded off in the hospital bed in the front room. I wave Abby in and she drops her bag to the ground and heads straight for her grandmother.
Abby told me and Isaiah everything her father said on the ride back to Louisville and when she ran out of things to say, she rested her temple against the window and watched the world race past. She looked alone and lost and she’s breaking my heart.
“How is she?” Abby asks.
“Tired.” Nadia offers a safe answer. Her eyes flicker from me to Abby and when they rest back on me, she tilts her head to let me know she’s heading to the kitchen. I nod that Abby and I are good.
Abby perches herself on the edge of the bed and takes her grandmother’s hand. “Grams, I need you to wake up for me.” She waits a few seconds then tries again in a louder voice. “Grams, please wake up.”
“Abby,” I start, but then her grandmother’s eyes flutter open.
Abby smiles and pushes her hair behind her ears. “Hi, Grams.”
The old woman’s eyes widen and she looks wildly about the room.
“It’s me. It’s Abby. I’ve missed you.”
Abby’s grandmother turns her head now and I shift, feeling uncomfortable. She’s searching for something familiar and it’s going to kill Abby that Abby isn’t who she remembers.
