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“What’s he talking about?” Theresa asked. “What’s going on?”
“Laura, get her out of here,” Glen said.
“Come on, honey. Let’s get Jane home,” Laura said.
“No. Wait a second. What’s going on? Why is Dad upset with Grant?” Theresa asked.
I could hear the panic in her voice as I turned my gaze toward her. Theresa’s hair was wild from sleep, and her glasses were cock-eyed on her face. She was wearing her same clothes from yesterday.
But I hated the look of fear in her eyes.
“Did you touch her?” Glen asked me again.
Laura and Jane were tugging her out of the house. Trying to get her out of harm’s way. I felt this argument going down a very dark path, and I wasn’t sure I could find a way out of it.
“Dad? What’s going on?” Hollis asked.
“Get back up to your room,” Glen said.
“No. Now I heard this argument from upstairs, and I can tell you for a fact that Grant’s never laid a finger on Theresa. If he did, he’d be dead. Because I’d kill him,” Hollis said.
“He’s right,” I said. “Your son would kill me for it.”
“I don’t give a damn who’s right and who’s wrong. I can’t have your kind of influence hanging over my daughter the way it is. My wife stood at her door last night and listened to her and Jane giggle about all sorts of things a fifteen-year-old girl should never be contemplating when it comes to an eighteen-year-old boy.”
I stood there stunned by his words. Theresa had been talking about me in a sexual manner?
“I want you out of this house,” Glen said.
The words were like a punch to my chest.
“Dad, you can’t kick him out. He doesn’t have anywhere else to go,” Hollis said.
“You stay out of this. Grant, I want you out of this house now,” Glen said again.
“I told you I never touched her!”
“Dad, stop it,” Hollis said. “You can’t kick Grant out. This is madness.”
“I can, and I will. We both know the potential your sister has. And whatever he’s done to lead her on, stops now,” Glen said.
“Fuck you,” I growled. I was pissed that they thought I would do something to Theresa, and I was tired of trying to defend myself against it.
Glen Peterson could go straight to hell.
I watched Glen march down the hallway as I stalked out of the house. I needed to breathe. I needed to collect myself. Part of me wanted to salvage the situation, but part of me didn’t want to. I was eighteen. I could go and do as I pleased. They’d tried to shove college down my throat, and they had once blamed me for Hollis’ unwillingness to go to school.
It was more than clear that they just thought I was a bad seed, hell-bent on corrupting their kids.
I could hear Theresa’s voice emanating from the driveway as I walked along the sidewalk. I turned around and saw Glen tossing my stuff out the damn door, and for a moment, I saw my father; the anger in his eyes and the harshness of his motions.
I saw my father in Glen’s face, and I knew then, and there I would leave.
I’d leave it all behind to strike out on my own.
Theresa continued to argue and defy her parents. I’d never seen Theresa combative like that, and part of me grinned in pride. She was strong. I always knew she was. Hiding behind those baggy clothes, self-conscious about her body. Stuck behind those glasses and her books and her awkward little walk.
But I knew. I knew she’d grow into a smart, remarkable, beautiful young woman.
