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Do not punch your father. Do not punch your father.
“I wanted something more for you,” I said, turning to Miguel. “I wanted you to have some skills. Something besides cards.”
“I know,” Miguel said, looking at his shoes.
“Clearly you don’t!”
“Hey,” Richard said. He stood and clapped a hand on my shoulder, which I threw off with so much force Richard was knocked back slightly.
“I don’t understand what the big deal is!” Richard said.
“You never do, Dad!” I yelled. “You don’t see the big deal about walking away from your family. You don’t see the big deal about mooching off your son. About vanishing for months at a time. About credit-card fraud—”
“I told you I had nothing to do with that,” Richard said, his chin suddenly hard, as though his pride had been offended.
“Did Miguel tell you that I didn’t want him to learn how to play cards?”
“Yeah, but—”
“And you did it anyway?”
Richard’s eyes narrowed. “Last I checked, I was your father. Not the other way around.”
I laughed. I laughed so hard it hurt. It hurt from my toes to my heart, my gut and my throat. My father was never going to understand what was wrong. Never.
“Get out of my house,” I said.
Miguel crouched to grab his coat. “I’m sorry, I. I am. It’s not—”
“Not you,” I said, stopping the boy. This moment had been a long time coming, years and years of pretending that what passed between us was working. Was worth it.
I pointed at my father. “Get out of my house.”
17
“You’re kicking me out? This isn’t even your house.”
“It’s more mine than yours,” I said. “And I want you to leave.”
For a second Richard looked at a loss and I felt a moment’s pity. But then he laughed again, the sound colored with desperation.
“Good one, son. You nearly had me going there.” Richard crouched in front of the kitchen liquor cabinet to pull out a bottle of Jack. “Come on, why don’t we all have a drink and—”
I slammed the door shut and had to force myself not to do more. Not to do worse. Years of letting this man steer me into waters I had no desire to visit—waters I thought I deserved because of my blood, because of the people I’d hurt and left behind. All those years coalesced into something so dark, so damning, I couldn’t turn away from this path.
My anger wouldn’t let me.
“I’m done with you, Dad.”
“Ty, come on.”
Just then, Richard looked every moment of his age, his belly curving over the edge of his belt, silver chest hair fighting its way out of his collar. A con man at the end of his days, and I could see where the old man would end up. Some bachelor apartment off the strip with sagging furniture and water stains on the ceiling, waiting for his luck to turn around.
I felt bad, I truly did, but I didn’t want to end up there with him.
And Richard would have no second thoughts about dragging me down to his level.
“Pack your stuff,” I said to Richard’s stunned face.
“You’ll regret this,” Richard said, finally stumbling into action.
“I won’t,” I said, thinking of Juliette. Of what my life could be without Richard around my neck like a stone. Something in me was swimming toward the surface, pulling me toward a future that had no Richard in it, and I was happy. Hopeful.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I am. But you have to go.”
I followed my father into the living room, where Richard had been keeping his stuff.
“Don’t come looking for me when your money runs out,” Richard said, tossing golf shirts into his bag.
I felt a twinge of guilt and pulled out my wallet. “How much do you need, Dad?”
Richard spun around. “I won’t take a penny of your—”
“You have no cash, Dad. You can’t even get a bus ticket.” I unfolded some bills, enough for a bus to New Orleans and a first-class ticket to Las Vegas.
“You don’t know what I have,” Richard said, his voice mean and snide. Richard Bonavie with his back against the wall—I had seen it a million times.
I pressed the money into my dad’s fist and when Richard looked as if he was going to toss it in my face, I closed my fist around my father’s as hard as I could, putting every empty moment we’d spent together into his grip.
Pain bracketed Richard’s lips but he said nothing.
“This is the last money you’ll see from me,” I said.
Cowed, Richard took it.
I watched, my heart hard, thoughts of Juliette a bright light guiding me to safer waters.
I opened the door for my father, the night and the unknown and the next big con waiting for Richard like an old lover.
Richard paused at the threshold. “I tried,” he whispered. “I know you don’t believe that, but I did the best I could.”
