AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Hey, Dad. Big freaking day.”
“How are you? You’ve been gone for so long.”
I groan again. “I’m fine.”
I’m very much not.
And Dad can see that.
“Come in and tell me what happened. Did you make it to New York? What was it like?”
Like a grumpy hormonal teenager, I drag myself into the kitchen and slump down in a chair.
“I met him,” I say, all energy drained from my voice.
Dad sits down opposite me, clearly very interested.
“Who? Damon Penmayne? You did?”
“Yes.Him. I tracked him down. I actually met the bastard.”
“And what happened?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. I really don’t want to recount what went down in that fancy office, especially not to my dad.
“To put it bluntly, he’s anawfulhuman being,” I explain. “He tried to humiliate me. Things didn’t go anywhere. It was a total waste from start to finish.”
It’s a very uncharacteristically short and unelaborated talefrom me. I normally run my mouth off until the cows come home.
Dad nods. I can tell he’s trying to hide his disappointment at the lack of success or even a result that isn’t nothing.
Other than the dorms at college, I have only ever lived in this house. It’s your typical two-story suburban house. Nothing that stands out at all. But there have been a lot of memories between these walls.
It’s just Dad and me now. Mom left when I was fifteen. One random day – I think it was a Tuesday – she announced to us that she was sleeping with some guy from work and then just...left. She moved with the guy to the other side of the state. I’ve made a decision to cut off all contact with her. It was easy for me to do so. She doesn’t deserve us.
That shit stayed with Dad, though. It’s pretty clear he’s not over what happened; the house still has old family photos on the wall from when I was younger. Photos with Mom. Nothing about the place changed when she left. It’s still the same furniture. Still the same beds.
I guess it was that shit that has driven Dad to his addictions.
And I feel like an idiot for not guessing that earlier. When it could’ve helped. When we could’ve done something about it and not ended up in the mess we’re in.
I got the whole mixed-color eyes thing from Mom. She had it too. I hope it’s the only trait we share.
I look at Dad sitting opposite. He’s really starting to look old. All this stress has not been good for him. Grey hair that thins by the day. There is no more of the vitality he used to have in his eyes, just weariness. Each new line on his face reminds me of the pain we’ve been under, and my total inability to solve it.
I feel like a punch has hit me in the gut. It’s as if I’ve letDad down, as if I couldn’t extract what we required from Damon. All we ended up with was that bizarre batshit proposition.
This is all just... crap.
I went all that way to New York for nothing. I risked my neck just to get practically spat back in my face by one of the most powerful men in the country. To be viewed as some...fuckdollfor temporary entertainment by a horny big-shot criminal with too much money to throw around.
And then, sitting opposite me, Dad suddenly starts crying. He’s overcome with tears. I know he really doesn’t want to break down in front of his daughter, but he does. I’m so aware that he’s been trying to hold back his emotions, reluctant to let his vulnerability show in front of his daughter, but it’s a battle he has lost. Before all this whirlwind chaos with Damon and the debts, I had never witnessed Dad cry before. Not once in my entire life. Yet now, in these last few weeks, it is almost routine. His breakdown barely registers with me, a fact that makes me so damn sad.
“I’m sorry,” he burbles between sobs. “I am so sorry for all of this.”
I lean over and wrap my arms around the man who raised me.
“I’ll find a way out,” I whisper as my dad cries. “I will. I promise you. We will work this out.”
