Dad barked, “What the hell took you so long?”
I’d wanted to say that I should have been waiting at the airport with them, but that was an argument I couldn’t win, so I hadn’t bothered bringing it up. I’d asked to go, but they’d made me stay home. Mom had said I would just “get in the way,” like I was a toddler and still underfoot or something. Dad had simply said, “No. Stay here.”
I’d been upstairs playing my guitar when I’d heard the front door open. It had taken me all of thirty seconds to set it down and run out there. But, knowing nothing I said would have mattered, I’d merely widened my smile and given them an answer that I knew they would, at the very least, agree with. “I’m just slow, I guess.”
Impatience and irritation had been brimming in Dad’s eyes, also nothing new. “Isn’t that the truth,” he’d murmured. His eyes narrowed as he examined me. He’d wanted me to dress nicely for the new arrival, and I think he’d been expecting a suit and tie. Fat chance. I’d been wearing frayed jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt from a local bar.
Catching me off guard, Dad had reached up and snatched a handful of my hair. He fisted his hand close to my scalp, stinging me with pinpricks of pain. Knowing any movement was going to make it even more unpleasant, I’d held very still. Yanking on my hair, Dad had jerked my head back and snarled, “I told you to cut this crap off. You look like a no-good degenerate. I’m going to buzz you in your sleep one day.” Mom and Dad had always hated my shaggy, unkempt style. Maybe that was why I’d kept it for so long.
Out of the corner of my eye, I had watched the dark-haired stranger taking in what was happening with wide, shocked eyes. By the way he glanced between my dad and me, uneasily shifting his weight back and forth, it was pretty obvious that he was uncomfortable witnessing the confrontation. I didn’t blame him. It wasn’t exactly a great welcome-to-the-neighborhood moment.
Through clenched teeth, I’d asked my dad, “You gonna introduce me to our guest, or are you gonna try and scalp me with your bare hands?”
Dad had snapped his gaze to the stranger among us and immediately dropped his hold on me. Mom, in all her maternal glory, had let out a beleaguered sigh. “Don’t be so dramatic, Kellan. It’s not like he hurt you by ‘touching’ your hair.” From her tone of voice, it had sounded like Dad was only playfully ruffling my hair. Strangely enough though, her words had made me feel like I was overreacting.
Puffing his chest out, Dad finally introduced us. “Kellan, this is Denny Harris. He’s joining us all the way from Australia. Denny, this is Kellan…my son.” That last part had been added with clear reluctance.
With an affable smile, Denny had stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet you.”
Touched by his sincerity, I grabbed his hand and said, “Nice to meet you too.”
After that, Denny’s bags had been thrust into my face, and I’d been ordered to be the house butler while my parents showed him around. My parents expected obedience from me, so no kind words had followed their demand, but Denny had thanked me for my assistance as I’d taken his stuff. That had instantly made me like him. His simple gratitude was more heartwarming than anything Mom and Dad had ever said to me.
My moment of warmth hadn’t lasted long though. The second Denny disappeared with Mom, Dad had grabbed my arm and sneered, “Don’t push me, Kellan. You need to be on your best behavior while Denny is here. I won’t put up with any of your crap. You step out of line, I’ll whoop you so hard, it’ll be a week before you can stand up straight. Two before you can sit properly. You understand me?”
Dad had shoved his finger into my chest for an emphasis that I hadn’t needed. I’d understood him completely. Unlike some parents, Dad hadn’t been giving me an empty threat to keep me in line. No, he had meant every word he’d just said. He would ignore my cries and pleading for him to stop. He’d leave me raw, just on the verge of bleeding. Because he was in charge, and he wanted me to know that. I was nothing to him. Absolutely nothing.
Reminding myself that my father’s threats didn’t matter anymore, I pushed the memory to the far recesses of my brain and focused on Denny. I was thrilled to be hearing from my old friend. It had been ages since we’d last talked. That was unfortunate, since he was living stateside again and keeping in contact should have theoretically been easier now. Denny was frequently in my thoughts though, and I often wondered how he was doing with college.
Denny chuckled. “Yeah, it’s me. Long time, no hear, huh, mate?”