Page 98 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

A quick kiss later, I’m alone with my renewed anxiety, but I don’t hesitate. I thumb to my father’s last text.

Life Wrecker: I know you don’t want to hear from me, but you left before I finished. There’s something else you need to know.

That “something” sure was something in the end. Not a deadly disease as I thought, but I still feel as though I’ve lost him. My imagined version of him, that is. The man who I thought loved me and missed me in his life.

Swallowing roughly, I call him. The second the phone rings, my stomach churns. I debate hanging up, but I need to do this. Say the things I never said. Be the guy who can push through tough hiking conditions, face losing the love of his life, and come out the other side stronger.

Two rings later, the line clicks over. “Hello?”

“Hi.” I clench my teeth, probably ruining thousands in orthodonture work. “It’s me. It’s Lennon,” I add, when I realize he probably doesn’t recognize his own son’s voice.

“Oh, Lennon.” A pause follows, along with an annoyed jab of my heart at his hesitant tone. The sound of splashing water and laughter rings out. “Now’s actually not a great time. Can I call you back?”

Can he call me back? Can the asshole who ruined our lives go have a pool party while the rest of us still struggle to come to terms with our lives?

Growling, I glance through the windshield. Maggie’s watching me intently. She mouths I love you. Or maybe Elephant shoe. The sight of her compassionate face strengthens my resolve.

“Sorry, no can do. We’re talking now.”

“Sure, okay. Give me a sec.” His words are rushed, and a distant Dad, look at me carries through the line. Another splash. More laughs—evidence of his happy new life and happy new family—but the hurt and anger I expect don’t come. A new awareness sinks in. Understanding that his feelings about me no longer affect my feelings about myself. I am man, hear me roar. I don’t care how this call ends. I only care that it happens.

“Sorry about that.” He sounds exhausted. Probably got tired while dyeing his hair. “Thanks for calling. I know it’s not easy for you.”

“Actually, you don’t know anything about me. Or any of your kids. Although that’s probably not accurate. I bet you know plenty about your new sons. I assume that’s why you wanted to talk?”

“You got a hold of the book, then?”

“Mom read your tabloid trash, so thanks for putting her through the wringer again.”

“Look, Lennon. I know you’re mad. You have every right to be, but I wanted you to learn about your brothers from me. You and I—we were close. I’ve wanted to reach out so many times. I just didn’t feel it was my right. Losing you and your brothers was my penance,” he drones on, like he’s reading cue cards. “I’ve had to live with that. I’m not sure if you want to meet my boys. I’ll leave it up to you. All I can hope is that you and your brothers are happy. That you’ve made something of yourselves, despite me.”

His tone is so neutral and pragmatic it’s almost shocking, but I know better than to be surprised. This is more of the same, him saying appropriate words to ease his guilt, and I’m done hoping he’s something he’s not.

“I’m not sure if your therapist buys that penance bullshit, but true penance is supposed to be hard. It’s the tough stuff of facing your mistakes, not walking away and ignoring us while you move on with your life. That was the easy way out. The same way you got out of jail time with the Feds, when every part of what you did was illegal and destructive and narcissistic, from the affair to working with the cartel, to pretending we didn’t exist after the fact. I don’t know if you’re more honest with your new kids, but I know I want you to do better with them. Raise them well and show them consistent love, if you can manage that.

“As far as we’re concerned,” I go on, my words stern but steady, “I hate you for what you did. You have no idea the damage you caused, how many lives you ruptured.” I almost tell him about Des and Sadie, that she was pregnant when we left and Des lost ten years with Max, but he doesn’t deserve our secrets. “I only called to say that you hurt me more deeply than I ever realized, and I’m still working my way through it. Despite you, as you so nicely said. If you need forgiveness, you can take it. But I want you to understand you didn’t earn it.”

I haven’t raised my voice and yelled, but I don’t need to. Maggie is a yeller when she’s upset. Fiery and passionate to the core. Des and Jake are known for letting their inner cavemen roar, but we’re not all built for shouts and outbursts. As I sit in my truck, shaking slightly, awaiting my father’s reply, I realize it’s okay to be me too. Forthright and stern when needed, but quieter. Internalizing as much as I’m saying. If we all lashed out when stressed, the world would be a pretty volatile place.

“That’s fair,” he finally says, more sadness in his voice than I expect. “And I really need to go. Good luck with everything.”

He hangs up. Doesn’t offer another apology or tell me he loves me. He doesn’t even wish me happy birthday.

I stare out my windshield, waiting for residual anger to surface or numbness to take over. Neither happens. Our talk didn’t change what he did or fix anything specific, but I’m okay. This was a reminder that nothing with my father has been personal, as I believed. He didn’t ruin our lives because I wasn’t enough for him or because I failed classes or because he didn’t love me. He laundered money to serve his best interests, and I’m better off without him in my life.

The second I’m out of my truck, Maggie curls herself around me. “Was it awful?”

“It wasn’t awesome, but it was necessary. As far as I can tell, his new family is his do-over. His chance to see if he can be different. At least, I hope he’s serious about that, for my half brothers.”

She pulls my face down to hers. “I’m so proud of you for confronting him.”

“Thanks for pushing me to do it,” I whisper against her lips.

I kiss her, tender at first, but tender only lasts so long with Maggie. I haul her closer, kiss her deeper, reveling in the security of our feelings for each other.

“I love you,” I murmur between swipes of my tongue.

She nips my lip. “I love you more.”