“I do want you to know that I don’t think he’s innocent in all of this, either. He acted impulsively, and he hurt my baby girl.”
There’s my daddy.
“But the fact remains that the two of you are—and it took me a while to realize this—good for each other. Relationships, they take work…a lot of work. I’d hate to see the two of you throw something you’ve both fought so damn hard for away over one miscommunication.”
I’m floored. Speechless. Is my dad actually supporting our relationship? I guess he’s finally starting to come around.
“Where are you now?” Dad asks.
“At Owen’s. I’m sitting outside his door because I was too chicken to knock, and then you called.”
“If you’re still willing to take my advice, knock. The sooner the two of you talk things through, the better. Believe me. You don’t want this to sit and fester for too long. You both have a lot of explaining to do, and apologies to give one another. Just remember, the man you saw last night isn’t Owen—deep down, you know that. You’ve known him your whole life. I’m not making excuses for him, and believe me, I’ll be making him answer for the things he said to you, but he’s been under a lot of stress and his bad mood was likely only made worse when he saw you dancing. That being said, you still need to stand up for yourself.” His advice is kind of conflicting, which I get given he’s got stakes on both sides of this relationship, but I’m pretty sure I can make sense of it all.
Before I can say goodbye or thank my dad for listening and offering me his sage advice, I hear footsteps to my right. Looking up, I find Owen, keys in hand and eyes on me, shock clearly written across his face. “Daddy, I have to go. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Ames. Call me if you need anything else, okay? I love you.”
“Love you, too.” I hang up my phone and push myself to my feet. Owen and I stare at each other for a few seconds before he takes the last few steps. He slips the key into the lock and nods toward his apartment, silently inviting me inside.
A cloud of dread builds like a storm in my belly, causing the coffee I’d had on my way here to churn and crash around like tidal waves. With a deep breath, I steel my resolve and follow him.
33. Fight Song
It takes me about fifteen minutes to decide what to do or where to go after leaving Amelia’s apartment. I replay our argument over and over again in my head, trying to figure out where everything went wrong.
I’m guessing it was somewhere between my accusing her of acting like a child and comparing what she had done to my ex-wife… Of course, it was my telling her I couldn’t trust her that broke the camel’s back. I’m ashamed that I let my anger get the best of me. Do I really believe the things I said? I guess on some level, a modicum of truth always comes out in the heat of the moment, but I didn’t mean any of it.
Yes, her refusal to listen was childish, but I realize I acted no better both this morning and the night before. In the end, I can’t blame Amelia for not wanting to listen to my excuses—because that’s all they are: excuses—but I would have liked the opportunity to calmly sit and explain myself without both of us blowing it all up.
The entire drive, I stew in my misery. I continue to obsess over the specifics of our argument. There were faults on both of us, but I admit I overreacted the night before. And I was a complete asshole before she threw me out. She was right; I should have asked for an explanation instead of just flying off the handle the way I did, and I never should have said the things I did. I see that now.
On the flip side, she should understand that dancing like that isn’t okay. Regardless of her partner’s sexual orientation, it was disrespectful to our relationship. And that’s not just me being an old fuddy-duddy.
I want to call her, but it’s possible she’ll either hang up on me or not answer at all. I know I need to wait for her to make the next move. After everything that has happened, I owe her that much. We both just need some time to gain a little perspective, and even though I hate it, I have to stay strong. I have to figure out my own issues if I want this to work…if it even can work after this. What if we’ve just destroyed everything we’ve fought so hard for?
I know I need to talk to somebody about all of this, but the first person who comes to mind is the last person who’s going to take my side: Alan. Any time I had a fight with Gretchen in the past, I could count on him to hear the entire story—right down to what I had said to her—and he’d be on my side, telling me she deserved it. Something tells me he’ll either punch me or shoot me if I confess to him the things I said to his daughter in the heat of the moment.