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Harrison leaned back on the couch, resting his head on the back and spreading his legs wide. I wanted to comfort him, but he’d told me to leave. “I’ll give you the space you need.”
He waved a hand at me. “Do what you need to do.”
I couldn’t get his words out of my head. My father didn’t want me, and Harrison didn’t either. I was a burden to everyone around me. I was never enough.
“I’m not leaving for good. I just need some air.” Some space. Clarity.
“Whatever you have to tell yourself.”
“It will be okay,” I repeated, more to myself than him. He wasn’t listening.
He grunted, disbelief evident in his tone as he closed his eyes.
I knew he was spiraling. He was scared, and I wanted to be there for him, but he’d created this chasm between us with his words. And I needed to escape, to tend to my wounds in private, in the comfort of my apartment.
“I’m so sorry, Harrison,” I whispered as I grabbed my purse and walked out. My heart was breaking for him and for me. I bled for the little girl inside me who asked her mother why her daddy was gone and if he was ever coming back. Each time I did, my mother would ask why I cared, he clearly hadn’t wanted me. I learned quickly not to ask. To harden my heart against him.
But as I drove to my apartment across town, took the steps to the door, and opened it, I wondered if it was time to get the answers from the source.
The questions swirled in my head.Why did you leave? Why did you want a new family when you already had one? Was I not good enough?I sounded pathetic.
I sat on the couch, not opening the blinds or a window, letting the musty, unused smell permeate my nose and skin. Harrison’s words played on repeat in my head, and I let the feelings in, his words slicing my heart into ribbons. My father’s abandonment was fresh all over again. I let the pain in while the tears slid unchecked down my cheeks.
It was too much. No wonder I’d never sat with my feelings like this before. I pulled my knees to my chest and rocked as the sobs broke through.
I couldn’t go to my mother. I couldn’t talk to Harrison. I was alone. My rock, the one who’d been there since the beginning, didn’t think I was worth it anymore.
It took a while, but the tears dried, and my muscles loosened until I rested limply on the cushions. My stomach hurt like I’d done an ab workout, and my head throbbed. I felt hot and cold. I needed a shower. Something to wake me up. To reset my mood.
Suddenly, everything was brighter, more in focus. I stood, pulling open the blinds and opening the windows, even though it was cold outside. I wanted to air out the apartment, but I also wanted to feel something. The floor under my feet, the crispness of the air, the water.
I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the cool water of the shower. I wanted to be present with my feelings. I didn’t want to hide anymore or pretend they didn’t exist. What my father did and Harrison’s words, they hurt.
With each stab of fresh pain, I felt stronger. I was finally living my life. I wasn’t hiding from it. I needed answers. I needed to talk to my dad. I quickly washed, dried off, and got dressed. What did one wear to confront their father and his new children—my siblings? That realization took me back a step. I knew he had other kids, but I’d never thought of them as my siblings.
Maybe because my mother said they weren’t. That they were nothing to me. But they were innocent. I had a younger sister and brother. They were half my blood. I wasn’t alone.
Maybe they’d want nothing to do with me. Maybe they didn’t even know about me. That thought brought me up short. I didn’t want to ruin whatever happy family they had.
But I deserved answers.
I’d checked my father out online many times and had his physical address memorized. It was too late to drive to his house tonight, but I got into bed knowing I’d go first thing in the morning. I just hoped I wasn’t making a huge mistake.
Twenty-Two
EVERLY
The next morning, I plugged my father’s address into my GPS and drove south. Halfway there, my stomach rumbled, and I pulled over for gas and snacks. I’d been checking my messages, but so far, Harrison hadn’t reached out.
I tried to put our fight out of my mind because this was something I needed to do. Besides, he’d told me to leave. He’d said I was just like my father. As much as I hated what he’d said, I was about to find out the truth.
My heart rate picked up with each mile I traversed to my father’s home and new family. I hoped I wasn’t making a huge mistake.
As I drove through his neighborhood, I saw the houses were nicer than the one I grew up in. The neighborhood was newer, the lawns well-kept, and the homes lovingly cared for. Kids played in the street and at the nearby parks since it was a weekend.
I took a deep breath, wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans before getting out to knock on the door, still not sure what to expect. For the first time, I considered the fact that he might not be home.
My heart stuttered to a stop. What would I do if his wife or one of his kids answered?
