Страница 35 из 47
That coat was too tacky.
That bow tie was too small.
Those pants had a strange shape.
My father shopped like a woman, which made Sylvia’s whole pretense of me saving him from wardrobe embarrassment even more laughable. Laughable was also a great word to describe the bonding idea. This was real quality time, with Dad locked in a dressing room and me sitting on the bench outside, texting Harrison about how the store attendant was just his type.
But I couldn’t get Sylvia’s voice out of my head, and I knew that it was still my job to try. So, after three hours of shopping—during which time Dad wound up buying the first of the twenty-two tuxes he’d tried on—I swallowed my pride and made my attempt to talk to him.
I suggested we go get ice cream together, and I started the conversation.
“So,” I began, swirling the plastic spoon around in my Dairy Queen Blizzard. “We, um, haven’t really had a chance to talk in a while.”
“I know,” Dad said. “I’m sorry about that, munchkin. I’ve just been so busy. Between work and preparing for this wedding and just getting used to everything. Becoming part of a family can be difficult.”
You were already part of one.
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess it probably can be…. But the Caulfields are nice, I guess.”
“I thought you’d love them.”
“I wish you’d told me about them.”
He sighed. “I suppose I probably should have. It just didn’t seem right, you know? To tell you over the phone or in an e-mail that I was engaged.”
“You could have told me when you started dating her. You could have called.”
“Oh, you know me, munchkin.” He laughed. “I had no idea how serious it would be. I didn’t see any need to waste your time by telling you about another girlfriend when I figured she’d be gone in a month or two.”
I gritted my teeth. Whose time did he really think he’d be wasting by calling me? Mine or his?
“Then we were serious all of a sudden,” he continued. “And I just thought I should give you the news in person.”
“Right. Well, I like them. Nathan and Bailey are nice, and Sylvia… She’s been really great support through all of this online-bullying stuff.” I waited to see if he’d even admit knowing about it, or if he’d feign ignorance.
“Yeah,” he said. “Well, Sylvia says you’re holding up well.”
Fuck that. Holding up well? He hadn’t spoken to me about the pictures, hadn’t acknowledged them. He’d just untagged himself and ignored them, never even asking if I was okay. Sylvia shouldn’t have been the one talking to me about cyber-bullying. It should have been him—my father. He didn’t even care.
But like an idiot, I just kept trying.
“The things they said—most of them weren’t true,” I told him.
“Good.”
“Do… do you want to talk about it?” I asked. “I mean, I know some of it was on your Facebook page. Did you want to ask me about any of the pictures or… anything?”
“No, munchkin. I have faith that you can deal with it,” he said.
I stared at him, trying to fight off the tears springing to my eyes. Even if he wasn’t angry, couldn’t he have given me a hug? Comforted me? I wanted to throw my ice cream at him. To scream, Everyone in this fucking town thinks I’m a whore because of that web page! I was almost raped a few weeks ago because of some of the things it says about me! The least you could do is tell me you give a shit.
But I didn’t say anything.
“We should get back,” Dad said, standing up. We’d been sitting in the booth for barely ten minutes. “Sylvia will be wondering what’s taking us so long.”
“Wait—I need… Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, munchkin. What’s up?”
I swallowed. I couldn’t believe I was going to ask him this. I was such a moron.
“A few years ago, when I asked to live with you, you said no. Was it really because of Mom? Because you didn’t want her to be upset?”
“Of course.”
“Really?”
“Well… why are you asking me about this?” he asked.
“Just because. Because I should know. Was there another reason you didn’t want me to live with you?”
He let out a long breath and pressed three fingers to his temple. “That was a big part of the reason, yes. Because I knew your mother was very upset about the divorce and if you came to live with me, she’d be even more upset. I felt guilty, and I didn’t want to make things worse.”
“But this was two years after the divorce,” I told him. “It was over with. She was still mad, but… What was the other reason, Dad?”
“Whitley, I don’t—”
“Just tell me.”
“To be honest, I was happy. I was a bachelor with a good job and a great life. I’d just gotten out of a marriage I’d been in since I was twenty-one, and I was having fun. I didn’t think it was the right time.”
“Right time for what?” I asked. “For me to live with you?”
He shook his head. “Having a teenage girl live with me would have complicated things.”
“So… you just… didn’t want me?”
I’d already figured this out, but hearing it out loud still hurt like hell.
“I wouldn’t say it like that. It was more just… I know I was a bad father for feeling that way, but I thought, in the long run, life would be better for both of us if you just stayed with your mother. I was sure you were just going through a phase—wanting to live with me. You were fourteen. You’d change your mind. I shouldn’t have lied to you. But it all worked out in the end, right?”
“Right,” I muttered.
“Okay, let’s get out of here.” He stood and picked up his empty cup of ice cream. “I’m sorry, munchkin. I wish I could have told you the truth then, but I was a selfish asshole. I’ve changed, though.”
No, I thought, watching him toss his cup in the trash can and head for the door. I stood up and followed, throwing away my unfinished Blizzard. That’s one thing about you that hasn’t changed at all.
24
Right after we got back to the house, I received a text message from Trace.
Hey sry havent called n a while. Em got a new job! How r u?
His timing was pretty unca
I started texting back as I walked upstairs to the guest room.
Not good. Can I call u?
He replied quickly.
No. N a meeting. On a saturday. Its boring & its a long story. I can txt tho
Leave it to my brother to be texting under the table at some kind of important meeting. A good sister would have sent him another message, telling him she’d call him when the meeting was over. He shouldn’t be texting. This was his job. All of that bullshit.
Well, I wasn’t a good sister. In fact, I was pretty goddamn selfish if you got right down to it. Yet another trait I’d gotten from my father, I guess.
There were so many things I wanted to say. So many stories I wanted to tell Trace. Feelings I wanted him to understand. But a text message can’t hold that many emotions. Or letters.
So I typed the only words that seemed to fit:
I liked dad better b4 I knew the truth.
It wasn’t easy explaining to Trace through text messages the whole story about my talk with Dad, but I managed. And while his attempts to comfort me were full of misspellings and incorrect punctuation, it felt good just to have someone listen. Or read, technically.
He told me he’d give me a call—a real voice-to-voice call—in the next few days, but I wasn’t going to hold him to it. Not that I thought he was lying or anything, but he had a wife now. A daughter. And at the moment, I was begi