Page 42 of Keeping Score

Why had I dressed up?

Because Liam told me that Dad would come back. In the principal’s office that day, he said that dads didn’t leave their kids behind. And I had believed him.

I told him as much, and Liam scoffed at my words. He hated when we were crying. I don’t think he knew what to do with it.

It made him shut down instantly. Or get angry.

And then I got angry that he couldn’t just make me feel better.

“He’s gone, Maggie,” Liam said harshly. “Face it.”

“No!” I yelled. “He’s coming back!”

“He’s not!”

“His boat is still in the driveway,” the tears streamed down my face as my voice grew hoarse from screaming. “He has to come back for his boat!”

“If he doesn’t care about his kids, then he doesn’t care about a fucking boat, Maggie!” Liam yelled back, matching my volume.

“Language!” Mom interjected, but it was a weak attempt.

It didn’t make a difference now, the same way it didn’t the hundred other times she’d said it over the last month.

Liam had been swearing a lot lately. He’d been angry, too. All the time.

I wished I had been, too, instead of drowning in the sorrow.

At least then it wouldn’t hurt as much.

“But you told me he was coming back,” I said again, desperate as I tried to regain control of myself.

“Well, I was wrong!” he said, and I could swear I saw that flicker of pain I felt mirrored in his eyes.

But it didn’t feel like he was wrong. It felt like he lied.

Like a betrayal.

And if Liam could lie to me about something, it meant anyone could. And anyone would.

Even if they didn’t mean to. Even if they thought they meant it in the moment. Things could always change. I had to know that. To be prepared for it.

People changed their minds.

Liam went upstairs and slammed his door.

I ran to mine and slammed mine.

I didn’t have to wish to be angry anymore—now I felt it, too. It burned. My chest, my stomach, my eyes.

Pain wasn’t just in my head. It was a tangible force, threatening to overtake me.

It was overwhelming as I felt it course through me in waves. Anger. Rage. Fury.

I scribbled on paper and ripped it up. I slammed doors whenever I could. I started getting sent to the principal’s office. And I only cried at night when I knew everyone was asleep.

Yes, the anger was overwhelming.

But it was better than the sadness.