“It’s after midnight!” he yelled. “And what the hell is that?” He was staring at my shirt.
I looked down, panicking as I saw the blood that had seeped through the cotton. There was a lot of blood. Why the fuck hadn’t I thought to clean up at Helene’s house?
“Dad, I—”
“You been fighting again?”
I gaped at him. The irony was, I hadn’t fought back at all. I hadn’t even considered it. “No, Dad, it’s not—”
“Goddamn motherfucker!” he yelled as he stood up. He knocked his beer over that had been sitting on the end table next to him, and he marched toward me.
I stumbled back, tripping over a shoe he’d left at the entryway, but I managed to stay upright. I held my hands up. “Dad!” I shouted. “You don’t understand!”
“You have been fighting, you little fucker! You think I need this shit? Kid who can’t fucking figure out how to behave.”
He grabbed my shirt sleeve, shoving me toward the door. I fell into it, but he reached around in front of me, yanking it open.
“Fuck!” I yelled.
But he didn’t give a shit. He shoved me out the front door, kicking my ass with the sole of his shoe as I stumbled and fell to the ground.
“Get out of my fucking house, you little bitch. I don’t need the Goddamn social workers showing up again.”
I rolled to my side, looking back at him as he glared down at me. On any other night I wouldn’t care that my dad had kicked me out. He’d certainly done it plenty. Hell, on any other night I’d see it as permission to go sneak Helene out of her house and get drunk in the park. But this wasn’t any other night. This was the worst night of my entire life.
I pushed myself off the porch floor, anger and hurt coursing through me and blocking out the pain in my side. I could barely see through the tears as I stared back at him, my lips pulled back in a deranged snarl. “I hate you,” I spit out venomously as a tear ran down my cheek.
He scoffed. It was a cruel, heartless look on his face. “Fucking cry baby,” he said as he laughed, and then he slammed the door in my face.
I stared at the door in front of me, my fists clenched tight at my sides. My body was a knot of muscles that didn’t seem to know how to release the tension, and my jaw tensed so hard my teeth hurt. I climbed back in my truck, and my tires squealed as I backed out. I was speeding again, and when I passed the gas station on my way back to town, I wasn’t afraid to look. I looked, glaring in fury at the place.
“Fuck,” I screamed as I punched the dashboard.
And then I neared the Sleepaway, and I slowed down.
Chapter Twenty
Kane
Over the next week, I managed to lay all the hardwoods in the living room, demoed the kitchen cupboards, and stripped the linoleum. I also learned, quite effectively I might add, to use a paint roller while talking on my cell phone at the same time.
Helene filled my evenings with her voice, even if not with her physical presence, and I smiled the entire time I was painting over the dingy blue wall in my old bedroom with a lighter gray color. There was no way in hell this woman was going to sleep in this bedroom again that hadn’t been painted since before I was born. She didn’t care. I knew she didn’t care. But I cared.
I’d grown up being accustomed to how much prettier her world looked, how much cleaner it smelled, how much brighter the light was in her space. I’d never been jealous. Not of her. She didn’t inspire jealousy. But one thing I’d learned in this life was that you could look at a thing and want it without despising the person who had it. It was all a matter of who it was you envied.
I could easily envy Helene without resenting her. I envied her in an odd … reverence sort of way. Pathetic maybe, but I did. I always had, because she’d always envied me in the same way, and that was somehow understood between us. She was who she was, and however different that was from who I was, she still genuinely accepted me.
I’d not seen her since the Thursday before, and by the time I was jogging into the lecture hall for class, I was nearly late and more than nearly ready to be around her again. When I walked in, I was clearly the last to arrive, and the room turned in unison to look at me.
I held my hand up in an awkward wave aimed at the sea of gawkers. “Howdy,” I said to the silent room.
Helene was leaning against her desk, casually lounging with her textbook in her hand, and when she glanced at me, she instantly pushed her reading glasses up to the top of her head.
Her smile was professional and kind. “Have a seat, Mr. Thorson.”
I barely managed to keep the smirk from touching my lips. “Of course, Professor Hess.”