At the Stars(67)
Mariana’s a vegetarian, or she was when I moved out. I wonder what it means that Dad’s asking for a slab of ground beef. I put it on my list.
“Awesome burgers.”
“Let’s hit it, kid.”
I nod and follow him to his car. “Uh, Dad?” Are we going to talk about why you’re here? “You know I’m almost twenty-six, right?”
He stops when we get to his car to unlock the passenger door, answering without making eye contact. No, can’t have too much eye contact with our feelings. Still, his answer just about leaves me bleeding on the sidewalk: “Kid, in my mind you’ll always be the little boy who wrapped his hand around his mother’s finger when he slept.”
I have to look away for a minute, because the ball that creates in my chest is almost too much to take.
So, yeah. My stellar response to that? “Well, listen, thanks for coming.”
“Of course.”
That’s our big exchange until we get seated in the diner on the edge of Pender. We both order bacon burgers, shakes, and onion rings. Once the waitress has bustled away and our menus aren’t hiding our faces, I’m forced to acknowledge why he’s here. I guess we both are.
After chewing on it all last night, I’m still not sure I know how best to lay it all out in the light of day. “Dad—”
“Jackson.” Dad’s fist comes down on the table, cutting me off with the shake of all the silverware on our table. “Let me start by saying I know I owe you an apology. It’s long overdue, and I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what? I’m the one who left.”
“You should never have felt like you had to. I know I disappointed you a great deal when your mother died. I threw myself into work to get by, and that left you alone. I thought Mariana would be a great mother figure when I met her. I knew you didn’t always see eye to eye, but I refused to admit how bad things were until it was too late.”
I rub my eyes, confused at the direction of the conversation. “You knew?” I’d always tried so hard to hide my dislike for Mariana from Dad.
“I do now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mariana and I had a long talk. I know why you left. What she threatened you with. I told her to make it right and get you the hell home, which is why she cooked up that story about my failing health.” He clasps his hands and leans across the table. He’s got gray in his hair that I’ve never seen before. “I’m sorry, kid. I knew Mariana had issues. I knew you two fought, and I know your old buddy from school is probably Joanna’s biological father. It was all easier to ignore for a long time.”
All this is so confusing I can hardly hear myself think. “Wait, you knew Joanna wasn’t yours?”
“Car accident last year when your stepmother was out of town. Found out at the hospital she’s not my blood type or her mother’s. Fucking miracle she’s able to dance again. Girl loves ballet.”
Shit. Guilt and shame flood through me. My sister was hurt and I wasn’t there. I don’t even know what she looks like now. It’s hitting me how much I’ve missed. “I’m glad she’s okay.”
“Of course. Anyway, she’s mine in the ways that matter. I provided for her. I raised her. Your old buddy lurks around and keeps tabs, but I’m her dad.”
“Right. Makes sense.” It doesn’t and it does. The explanation sounds logical, rational, but how can a man be so calm about some other guy fucking his wife? I couldn’t be. If some other guy and Cassie...
Cassie.
The thought hits me like a sharp kick to the chest. I’ve been focused on my dad and the family I thought I’d never see again. Still, I keep thinking of Cassie.
Can we still trust each other, after everything? It bothers me that she went to my house. I guess part of me can’t put all the blame on her. If I had told her the full story at the beginning, we wouldn’t be in this mess now. It was all so fucking embarrassing, and I didn’t trust for sure that she’d believe me.
See? I probably don’t deserve her.
Maybe I jinx myself by thinking that, because when the waitress stops by with our food I look up and see the object of my thoughts sitting at a booth on the other end of the diner, in a corner by the windows. She’s not alone, either. I don’t know the guy she’s with, but I know the way he’s touching her.
He’s touching her the way I’ve only recently started to believe was my right to touch her. Possessive. Familiar. She knows this guy. They have a history.
He believes she belongs to him.
22. A DIFFERENT PERSON
Cassie