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I intend to do just that.
~
“You were in London last year?” I ask Dax as soon as we arrive at the cabin. “That’s where you went?”
He turns his back to me and unzips his jacket. “I’m tired, Jenna.”
“So am I,” I tell him. “Tired of being the last to know you.”
“Harold and Jerry don’t know me.” Dax sits on the bench near the door and takes off his boots. “I’ve only spoken to them a few times.”
“And yet they know so much about you.”
Whereas I, who am here with him, who he’s had countless conversations with, know so little.
“They only knew my father,” Dax says.
“And I don’t know anything about him. Walt Willard – is that his name?”
Dax shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“I know.” I fold my arms over my chest. “You never want to talk about things that concern you, even though you go on and on when the topic is about me.”
He says nothing as he puts his boots in the rack.
“So it’s okay for you to be friends with my father but it’s not okay for me to know about yours?”
Dax walks to the living room. “He’s nothing like your father.”
“But he is your father.”
He doesn’t answer.
I follow him. “So it’s okay for you to pry into my private life but it’s not okay to even tell me about yours?”
Still no answer.
I draw a deep breath as I try to rein in my frustration. “Oh, why do I even bother? You’ve always been like this. You always knew how to shut me out. You keep me close but you never actually let me in. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”
“No,” he says without glancing at me. “But you’re going to tell me, aren’t you?”
I frown. What’s that supposed to mean?
Dax heads to the kitchen. Again, I march after him, this time with fists clenched at my sides.
“Fine. I’ll tell you. It makes me feel like I don’t matter.”
“Well, that’s your problem, isn’t it?”
My jaw drops. Unbelievable.
“So you’re saying you don’t care how I feel?”
“No. That’s not what I’m saying.” He opens a cupboard and takes out a glass, which he sets down on the counter. “I’m saying this isn’t about you.”
“But it is, isn’t it?” I slam my fists down on the counter. “We’re talking about why you left, which I haven’t been able to understand. Don’t you think I deserve to know why you left?”
“Does it matter?” Dax opens the door of the fridge. “I still left, right?”
“It does matter!”
“Fine!”
He slams the fridge door shut. I hear the bottles rattle and clank inside.
“You want to know all about me? Fine. I’ll tell you. My mother died of cancer when we were in college.”
My eyebrows arch. What?
“And my so-called father? He’s an asshole who treats the people around him like dirt, even his own son, women even more so, which people overlook because he’s got a lot of money, money he likes to shove into people’s faces. And now I have to prove for the rest of my life that I’m not just like him.” He steps forward. “Do you have any idea how that feels?”
No, I realize. I have no idea at all about what Dax has gone through.
Here I was going on and on about him leaving me, partly blaming him for my misery, feeling spiteful because I thought I went through hell while all Dax did was have fun and get rich. Boy, was I wrong.
And I feel terrible.
I move towards him and reach out my hand. “Dax…”
“Don’t.” He puts his hands up. “Just leave me alone, Jenna.”
He walks out of the kitchen. Moments later, I hear his footsteps on the stairs. I hear a door from the second floor slam shut.
I lean on the counter and stare at the cold marble as I run my hands through my hair.
What have I done?
Chapter Seven
Dax
I shouldn’t have snapped at Jenna, I think as I get out of the shower.
Thanks to the cold water, my temper has evaporated along with some of the soreness that was starting in my muscles. My head is clear now and I realize my mistake.
Jenna didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t her I was upset with. It was Harold, who as always, was talking too much. Why did he have to keep talking about my father when he knows I hate the man?
And me. I was upset with myself for letting it affect me. Didn’t I promise to throw that part of myself away?
I draw a deep breath and sit on the edge of my bed. At any rate, I shouldn’t have lost my temper with Jenna. She only wanted to know where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing. And she’s right. She deserves to know. If we’re going to start over, I have to fill her in on what she missed. No. Not just that. I have to tell her everything about me. I have to let her in.
