“Fine by me,” Tyler says with a smirk, but it quickly fades when I catch his eye. His lips quirk into a sincere smile instead, a smile full of reassurance, like he’s trying to tell me not to worry because everything will be okay. When Jamie approaches him, Tyler swings his arm carefully over his shoulder and gently leads him out of the room, murmuring, “How’s that wrist, kid?”
In that second, I wish I was like Tyler. I wish I was able to put up a front and act like everything is a joke. I wish I got into trouble so much that being yelled at becomes part of the daily routine. I wish I wasn’t still standing here in front of my dad, subject to questioning and disappointed expressions while I have these stupid tears running down my smeared makeup.
Dad, I have realized, clearly doesn’t have a sympathetic fiber in all of his being. I should have known. Every time Mom was upset, he didn’t care. Every time she cried over him, he cared even less. He’s never cared.
I quit the crying act and look at him hard. “Well?”
Ella’s still in the room. She’s gnawing on her lips as she continues to watch, never moving from her position on the couch, staying silent. I don’t know if I should be glad or not, because I haven’t yet figured out if she’s the type to join in the yelling or the type to defend you.
“Eden,” Dad starts slowly as he rubs his temples. “I didn’t bring you down here so that you could sneak around and lie to me.”
“Then what the hell did you bring me down for?” I explode, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “Did you want to take me bra shopping? Did you want us to sit over campfires eating s’mores? What, Dad? What did you expect?”
I cannot even begin to fathom my hatred. For the six weeks I’ve been here he hasn’t made the slightest effort to fix things with me, to apologize for walking out on both Mom and me without an explanation, for leaving and waiting three years to see me again. And he wants to come into my life now? He wants to try and act like my parent now?
“I think we all need to just calm down. The important thing is that she’s here,” Ella says with a slight edge to her voice. I’ve concluded now that not only is she the type of mother that doesn’t mind if you disappear, she’s also the kind who defends you when you do.
“Exactly,” I remark, trying to make my voice softer. “I’m home and I’m alive, and so is Tyler, but if it helps, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for us not coming home.”
Dad doesn’t accept my apology. He just stares at me in a way I’d never expect a father to look at their daughter, like he can’t stand me. In that exact moment, I hate him.
“What are you looking at me like that for?” I ask. “What is your problem with me, Dad?”
“I don’t have a problem,” he says. He glances sideways at Ella, like he needs backup in order to fight a sixteen-year-old, but she only looks at him with wide eyes.
“Is that why you didn’t talk to me for three years? Because you don’t have a problem with me?” I don’t know where my words are coming from. Somewhere in the back of my mind, these thoughts have been gathering ever since he left. Now that I’m furious at him they’re spilling out all at once, and I can’t stop them. I can see the color rising in Dad’s cheeks as he takes in my words. “Is that why you walked out? Because you don’t have a problem?”
“That’s enough!” he barks, because he can’t handle the truth. He can’t handle the fact that he’s a sorry excuse for a father, because he never thinks he’s in the wrong. That’s why he and Mom argued all the time. Nothing was ever his fault. It was always hers.
“You haven’t even tried to make an effort with me.” I even take a few steps toward him. My chin is tilted high, because I’m determined to let him know how I feel. “You haven’t even said sorry to me yet. That should have been the first thing you said to me when I stepped off the plane.”
Dad throws his hands up in defeat. “Okay, Eden, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I haven’t been around,” he mutters, but it’s far from sincere. “There. Are you happy now?”
“What’s the point of that now, Dad?” I shrug. “You’re three years too late.”
I want him to look hurt. I want my words to have an effect on him, and I want him to drown in guilt. But he doesn’t look pained at all. He looks pissed off as he narrows his sharp eyes at me, delivering a scornful glare. “You’re exactly like your mom, you know that?”
Ella looks shocked.
“Thank God,” I say. “I’d hate to be like you.”
Now I’ve got my point across, I decide it’s time to storm out before he can try and argue back with me any further. He knows I’m mad at him, and it’s going to take a lot of apologizing on his part if I’m ever going to forgive him.
His eyes cold, Dad turns back to Ella, and I swing around and march toward the door.
I hear Ella hiss, “What the hell, Dave? Go after her! I know she’s been out all night, but you think you’re going to make it up to your daughter by being all high and mighty?”