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“That’s bullshit,” he scoffed.
“Is it?” I asked. “Like you just said, you went through all of that for me.”
“Don’t twist it,” he ordered through his teeth.
“I’m not twisting it,” I insisted. “You are. And if you thought I’d ever tell a single person that boys at school were scaring me, you’re crazy. I went to school afraid every day for two years. I wasn’t about to get another person in trouble because of me.”
His eyes widened in understanding.
“And if you have a problem with what I look like or how I dress, you can go straight to hell,” I finished. “Because I changed to feel comfortable in my own skin, and I’m okay with that.”
“You didn’t have to change a fuckin’ thing, baby,” he said softly. “You were perfect.”
“And now I’m happy,” I replied with a shrug. “I’ll take happy over perfect.”
“You’re not happy,” he replied sadly. “You’re hidin’.”
“Says you,” I retorted.
“I would spend my life in prison before I ever let you be scared—”
“Exactly,” I replied tiredly. “You’re still not getting it.”
“Not gettin’ what?” he asked.
“I would never want you to.” My hands curled into fists. “Do you have any idea what it’s like knowing you’re the reason someone’s life was ruined?”
“My life wasn’t ruined,” he replied. “I just lost a few years.”
“You’re not listening to me.”
“I’m listening, you’re just not makin’ sense.”
“Just go,” I said, dropping down onto the bed. “We’re never going to see eye to eye on this.”
“You’re tellin’ me to go because I wouldn’t let you be hurt if I could stop it?”
“I’m telling you to go because you feel like not being able to control yourself is some kind of badge of honor because you love me,” I said seriously.
“What?” he said in disbelief.
“I don’t want to be loved like that,” I told him with a sigh.
“I don’t know any other way to love you,” he bit out. “It’s the way I’m built.”
I looked at him, desperate to make him understand, and realized that the argument was pointless. I couldn’t see any compromise that would leave either of us happy.
“Did you know my mom killed herself?” I said finally.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “’Course I knew that.”
“You know why she did?” I asked, just as soft. He shook his head. “Because she thought I’d be better off if she was gone.”
“Baby, this isn’t the same as that.”
“No?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. “Because it feels remarkably similar.”
“Don’t,” I ordered when he stepped toward me. “I need you to go now.”
“I’m not goin’ anywhere—”
“I’m not telling you to,” I said, meeting his eyes. “I’m asking you to. Please.”
“We’ll talk more in the morning?” he asked with a sigh, searching my face.
“Sure,” I replied. “In the morning.”
He stood there for a few more moments before nodding. Then he quietly left the room. As soon as I heard the front door close behind him, I pulled out my phone and used what little savings I had to buy a plane ticket. I grabbed my still-packed bag and some toiletries from the bathroom and within minutes, I was turning off all the lights in the apartment and letting myself out.
It was only a couple hours to Portland and as soon as I got there, I was going to take the next flight out.
I was dragging ass the next morning when I climbed out of my rideshare at the little RV park outside of Missoula, Montana. My hair was pulled back in a ragged ponytail, I’d spilled coffee down the front of my sweatshirt, and I’d realized on the flight that the only shoes I had were the ratty pair of Birkenstocks that I’d slid on in my mad dash out of the apartment.
None of that mattered as I knocked on the side door of the familiar RV and waited.
“Kara,” my grandpa said in surprise, his mouth gaping. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Gee, thanks,” I said, mildly offended.
“Lou,” he called into the RV as he let me inside. “Kara’s here, put some pants on!”
“Ew,” I said, elbowing him in the side.
“Kara’s what?” she said, coming out of the tiny bathroom. “Kara’s here!”
“That’s what I said,” Grandpa replied.
“Hey, Nana,” I said, letting Grandpa take my bag. “Surprise!”
“Best surprise I’ve had all year,” she said, hurrying toward me. She kissed my cheek as she pulled me into a hug. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought it was time for a visit,” I said, grimacing when she gave me an unbelieving stare. “I’m off work for at least a few days because of the fires, so I hopped on a plane.”
“Only half of that is true,” she said knowingly. “But you can explain the rest later. You hungry?”
“Starving, actually,” I replied sheepishly. “I almost got something to eat at the airport, but I figured you’d be cooking.”
“You figured right,” she said with a laugh as she started puttering around the little kitchen area.
