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“Violent,” I say.
“Violent?”
“I dunno.” I rake a hand through my hair.I do know.She slaps him for screaming at me. She decks him in the jaw, the eye, the mouth. He takes it. I try to come between them. He shoves me in the wall. Says if I don’t give them my paycheck from stocking shelves at the supermarket, he’ll throw me out.
I blink a few times.
“Where was your mom?” Lo asks, his voice more hushed. Concern sharpens his face, knits his brows.
I turn to my mom for help. She tells me to listen to my dad. “The violence wasn’t always at me. It was confusing. One second, she’s…” I swallow a rock. “She’s beating the shit outta him, then the next, they’re having sex loud enough that I can hear.”
Lo looks disturbed.
Welcome to the life I left behind.
“You wanted to know,” I retort, a little pissed off. “You shouldn’t have asked.” I’m about to stand, wanting to leave, but he shoots to his feet first. I’m up on mine right after.
“What do you think I’d be like?” His face contorts. “That I’d beexcitedyou were in a violent household? That I’d be glad for you.” He starts clapping.
I tilt my head and watch, smiling. “Appreciate the applause. You can send me a fruit basket next.”
“I’ll do that,” he says dryly. “Right to 2149 You’re Not Funny Lane.”
“Sending the basket to yourself?” I nearly laugh.
His eyes are knives. “Oh that’s right. Your address is 460 You’reNeverDating My Daughter Avenue.”
Straight to my soul.
Still, I lower back to my seat. “Been trying to move off that street.”
“I’m sure you want to.” He sinks back into his chair. He could’ve said,I’ll make sure you never do.I pocket that positive end note. Keep ‘em coming.
We’re skimming one another up and down, and I just go ahead and say it, “The more you’re getting to know me, I know I’m not someone you’d want for her.” I’ve always known that.
I’m not parents’ first choices. Detailing my rocky childhood was never going to help my case, even if he could empathize.
“No, you’re not,” he agrees. “What you came from is…” His nose flares. “It’s notanythingI’d ever want her to experience.”
“She won’t,” I assure with everything inside me. We want theexactsame things for Luna.
He nods tensely, his gaze tightening. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“So sorry you keep sending the fruit basket to the wrong place.”
He rolls his eyes, but we’re both starting to smile. His fades first. He clenches his jaw and picks up his burrito. “What you saw between your mom and dad—I hope you know that’s not love.”
“I do know,” I tell him. “I’ve wanted nothinglike what my parents have with each other.” I mop up spilt rice out of my burrito with a napkin. “She was happier on drugs. When we couldn’t afford ‘em, it was like looking in the eyes of a loveless animal.”
He grimaces. “That bad, huh?”
“I think she would’ve sold every organ in my body for another hit.” I drag my gaze across the ceiling again. “There were days I wished they could’ve been high. They were easier to deal with. The desperation, the rage—that wasn’t something I tried to stick around for.”
He swallows another bite. “Where’d you go?”
“I’d run around South Philly. Go to the library, into Wawa, check out any store I could until it was dark. Then I just snuck back home.” I rest my forearms on the desk and hold my water bottle. “I didn’t like pulling long shifts at the Acme. Money was alright, but it always created more problems. Cousins would show up. I got fired and rehired about five times in one year alone.”
“I get why you didn’t want to go back and see Sean.”
