Slipping away upstairs, I go to my room and put as much distance between him and me as possible. I wish I had a phone or some kind of computer to look up the hardware store Ren told me about, anything to get my mind off what just happened. I look at myself in the mirror, lifting my shirt to see a bright red mark where my back hit the table. That’s going to hurt in the morning.
There was no regret from my dad tonight. Maybe he’s still too drunk. This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten hurt trying to help him. I don’t know why I keep trying, but I can’t help myself.
I let my shirt drop, not wanting to look at the mark anymore. I grab my notepad, lie back on my bed, and let my pencil go. I think about the boy who made me forget for the first time in years. I want to be back in the cafeteria for those few minutes we shared. Remembering the brownie, I reach into my backpack and pull it out. I debate eating it, but instead I put it on my nightstand, wanting to save it.
I want to believe what he told me, that what Kristen said didn’t matter, but it still lingers in the back of my mind. It’s hard to believe something good when everything has been so bad for so long. Why would she lie? She did seem catty when I heard her talking this morning. I know she has a thing for Ren, or wants to have one. If she really thought he was such a bad guy, then why would she want him?
I think back to all she said when she didn’t notice I was sitting in the office. She said he was an asshole, but she didn’t care. I know some girls like that. I don’t get it. I’d want sweet and loving.
My father was never the sweetest, but he loved my mom. Probably more than anything else in the whole world. Me, included. I’d once overheard them fighting over having another child after I’d asked my mom for a brother or sister. His words have always stuck in my head. “You wanted a baby and I gave you one, Marie. You know I’d give you anything I could, but I’m not sharing any more of you or your time. One is all we’re having. It’s enough.”
Now the woman he loves more than anything is gone, and he’s stuck with a kid he only had for her. And the worst part is every time he looks at me, all he can see is her, and I think it’s slowly driving him insane. Maybe I’m the reason he drinks. He can’t bear looking at me each day when he comes home. He stays late at the bar in hopes of not having to see me at all.
I look down at my notepad and gasp. It’s Ren, looking like a warrior. His face is hard like he’s ready for battle. His short dark hair is a mess, sweat coating his body. How can someone look so scary but so safe at the same time? He told me I was special. I don’t know why that keeps playing over and over in my head. Maybe because I haven’t felt special since my mother was alive. I want to be special to someone again. To know I’m cared for, and not out of obligation. I pull the notepad to my chest, letting my eyes fall closed as sleep takes me. For the first time in a long time, I look forward to tomorrow.
10
Ren
“What?” I say looking at my parents. They’ve both been staring at me since I came downstairs this morning, and they keep exchanging looks. I know what this is about, but neither of them is saying anything.
When I came home after school, my dad and I talked about him giving Lily a job. I was surprised that he didn’t ask questions, he just agreed. It was a relief, but I knew that would only hold them off for so long. My mom had a long shift yesterday at the hospital, and she’s about to leave in a few minutes. The time is ticking, and she knows her window to talk to me is closing.
“So, Ren, your dad was telling me you have a girlfriend.”
There it is.
“Yeah,” I say, finishing my breakfast and taking my plate to the kitchen.
Suddenly my mom is grabbing me by the arm and pushing me up against the counter. It’s playful, but I’m amazed at how strong she is for a woman so small. She’s bigger than Lily, but not by much.
“You listen to me, Ren Hendricks. I’ve never seen you so much as blink in the direction of a girl before, so you can’t show up and say you’ve got a girlfriend and not give me details.” She pokes me in the stomach, and it makes me laugh. “Spill it, Sweet Potato, or I’m gonna pull out the big guns.”
I can’t help but laugh at the nickname she gave me when I was a baby. She said I came out all orange and squishy like a sweet potato. She lifts up her hands and makes claws like she’s going to tickle me, and I get serious. If there’s one thing she knows I hate, it’s to be tickled. Some people find it funny and enjoy the sensation. They laugh and think it’s playful. Not me. When I get tickled, I get mad, and she knows it.