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Because you weren’t there. Because you didn’t have to deal with her depression and her drinking.
“I gotta go, Mel. I’ll speak to you soon.”
Hanging up, I find my stash of whiskey and pour myself a shot. I carry it over to the living room and sit down on my sofa. I run my hand over its thick, plush leather. There was no way I could have afforded all of this shit on my salary, especially just out of college, but Mom had insisted on helping out. She knows how bad my relationship with Dad is, so she knows how hard it is for me to be here, helping him.
I laugh and take a sip of my drink. They all thought my being here was a step in the direction of forgiving him, but it wasn’t. I had two motivations when I received that call—seeing Jill, and staying for Jill. It’s fucked up how big a part she has ended up playing in all of this.
Should I feel guilty? Should I suck it up and forgive him? I wish I could. I wish I could let go of everything and move on, because honestly, hating him is tiring.
***
Jill: Just so you know, I find you more than a little bit sexy.
I laugh and roll over in bed. It’s after eight and I was asleep until her text woke me—my fault for not putting my cell on silent. I sit up and press call.
“Do you harass all your teachers in the middle of the night?” I smirk, rubbing my eyes. I glance around in the darkness of my room.
“Middle of the night?” She laughs. “It’s barely eight o’clock! Besides, you’re not technically my teacher.”
Not yet.
“What are you doing?” I ask, not acknowledging her comment.
“Studying,” she replies. “And thinking about a certain sexy teacher who I struggle to keep my hands off.”
“I hope you mean me and not Mr. Hands.”
She laughs hysterically. “God, he’s in his seventies, dude. And I never did get past his name. Mr. Hands? I mean, come on.” She giggles. “How many jokes are in that?”
“He’s actually a really nice guy.” I laugh, but my heart isn’t in it. I feel bad about joking about him.
“I’m sure he is, but he’s got nothing on you.”
“Glad to hear it.” I chuckle. “What time’s your first exam?”
“Nine. Chemistry. So not looking forward to that. Why can’t everything be sexy like history?” she whines.
I laugh. What hope do I have when the girl I adore finds history sexy? It’s like we’re made for each other.
“You find history sexy?” I scoff. “There’s something I’ve never heard from a girl. You’re so fucking cute.”
“Why are you laughing? It can be sexy,” she says defensively.
“I better let you get back to studying. And make sure you get enough sleep. I don’t want to be responsible for you failing,” I order her.
“Yes, sir.” She laughs.
“Don’t call me that,” I growl, hanging up.
I didn’t mention my meeting with Galleu and Dad, because I don’t want her distracted leading into exams. More than that, though, I don’t want to deal with the argument I know this is going to bring. I need to find the right way to explain to her why we need to cool things for the rest of the year. I want to be with her, but being her sub is one thing. I can force myself to believe that’s okay. As her full-time, permanent teacher? I’m not sure I can.
I toss my phone aside and grab some leftover pizza from the fridge, throwing it in the microwave for a few minutes. I live on takeout—partly because I’m so damn busy after being left without a syllabus to follow for the rest of the year, but mainly because I’m lazy. Jill is always on at me about cooking for myself. Tomorrow I plan to cook her a three-course meal, which will either be a total disaster or totally amazing.
My phone rings after dinner. I shove my empty plate aside and check the number. It’s one of my other sisters, Jules. I click answer, knowing this is going to be another lecture about Dad.
“Hey.” I sigh, rubbing my head.
“I thought you were coming around to see Dad.”
