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I knew where he was going with this, so I smiled sweetly at him and tried to ease his worries.
"I'm okay, Dad, really. Nothing else is wrong and my headache is long gone. I just hate to eat and work out. I'm sure your room has a fruit basket. I'll take it with me when I go back to my room and I'll eat before I leave the hotel tomorrow."
Dad expelled a breath and I saw the light reenter his eyes. I felt bad for worrying him, but in that moment I finally understood the meaning behind a little white lie.
People lied to protect those they cared about despite was the size of the lie may be. There wasn't much afterthought that went into the future if the lie was ever reveled, instead the conscious decision was made to shield another from the painful reality so they didn't endure the truth.
And I got it because truth was, my body ached angrily, and I fought back the vomit that had been climbing the back of my throat all day. I ignored the cramps and parched lips. I ignored the pain slashing through my chest.
I ignored it all and lied to myself and said everything was all right, when in fact, it really wasn't.
Fifty-One
I eyed my dad as he sipped his amber liquid he often had with dinner. He was reading over some documents he'd brought with him, scanning the papers and flipping them over. Dad never sat still, but was always working.
"What's happening with you and Mom?" I blurted out.
It wasn't often we got to speak, let alone about her. I figured I'd sway the conversation the best I could because I felt like something was on the tip of his tongue about me and I needed to avoid that, especially after how he’d acted with Kova.
"Joy or Sophia?"
That was the first time he'd responded like that.
"Joy."
"We're trying to work things out."
"What does that mean?"
Dad eyed my plate. "Why are you not eating?"
Diversion.
I glanced down. "I ate a little bit. When my nerves are shot, it's hard to eat."
He removed his glasses and pushed the stack of papers away from him.
"Why are your nerves shot?"
I glared and wondered how he couldn’t figure it out.
"Dad, this meet is huge, and tomorrow is another full day of competition," I said like it was obvious, because it was.
"Is there anything else going on I need to know about?"
Heat spread through my chest. "Like what? I'm taking all my medicine and I feel fine. I'm going to the doctor as scheduled. I'm just stressed, that's all. What's going on with Joy? I feel like if she never heard from me again, she'd be okay with that. And, Dad, despite everything, she raised me. How can she just let me go like last season's dress she wore once?"
He leaned back and eyed me peculiarly. Whiskey in his hand, he asked, "Why do you not ask about Sophia?"
My jaw bobbed. I hadn't expected that, but it seemed we both had some things to discuss.
"It's not that I'm not curious about her, because I am, I just have a lot on my plate at the moment. Adding another mom to it is not something I feel I should do right now. I figured I'd reach out once the season was over. Before that would just mess with my head and it's not a good idea, considering I have so much going on as it is. Just remembering to take my pills on time is worrisome to me. Making time to see my biological mother is a lot of pressure, physically, as well as emotionally. Not to mention, a little awkward too."
His eyes softened. "I'm sorry, sweetie. You're right. I shouldn't have asked that. When you're ready to talk to her, you can."
"Does she ask why I don't want to?"
"She does, but I'll explain to her next time that you need to get through these next few months first before you do."
