But none of that is the stuff that scares me.
What scares me is the thought that what if she wakes up tomorrow and decides that she wants nothing to do with me? What if she finds out how much of an asshole I was all those years? What if she finds out that I haven’t been half the stand up kind of man her cop husband was? What if she finds out what my dad did to get her husband’s heart? What if I find out, she finds out, that her husband’s death was no tragic coincidence? I’ve never been as worried about my dad’s backhandedness as I am now. I don’t know much about Jacob Parker’s death and I’m nervous to know any more than I already do. Ignorance is bliss right now. For both of us. I just hope that this bliss lasts.
I kick the comforter down the bed and cover us in just the sheet. My fingers dance across her skin, both of us wrapped up in only each other. The only piece of fabric between us is the shirt she wanted me to keep on. It’s stings a little, I can’t deny that, but I get it. She can’t face the evidence of her reality yet and I respect that. I just don’t know what I can do to help her. There’s one thing that I am unequivocally sure of, though, and that is that Sadie Parker and I are very much alike. Kindred spirits if I’ve ever seen a pair. I guess if I were in her position, I’d just want the other person to sit back and let me come to terms with things as I go. I can’t be forced or pushed or coerced into a fucking thing and I would bet my right arm that Sadie is the same. She’s wired to do things her own way, to rebel against the natural or expected route. It’s only easy for me to see because I’m the poster boy for rebellion. I want Sadie to stay and I don’t want to put a time limit on it. I want her here for as long as I can trap her free spirit. I’ll convince her. I’ll tell her anything she wants to know in hopes that maybe she’ll want to tell me all about the woman who lives behind those soulful brown eyes.
“My dad is a dick. King of dicks,” I say out of the blue.
Sadie props herself up on one elbow and looks at me without saying a word. I find that with Sadie, words aren’t really needed much. The truth pours from her eyes like soul-baring liquid whether she intends it to or not. She gives the secret liquid freely and my only reflex is to drink up.
“I used to pretend that I was adopted when we couldn’t get along, which has pretty much been all my life. I don’t know why.” I shrug a little. “We just don’t get along. His motives are evident in everything he does and I usually end up hating him for it.” I take a deep breath and go on, glancing to Sadie periodically. “I used to try hard for his approval; felt like begging for scraps. I got tired of it.” I search her face for a response and I see her brows draw up a little making that shallow line between them. I don’t like pity usually, but coming from Sadie, it doesn’t feel like pity. Whatever it is she feels for me right now doesn’t feel like pity, it just feels like someone who sees me for who and what I am and can agree with me when I say that the shit I dealt with at the hands of my father sucked. “When shit got really bad in college,” I continue, “I just changed. Overnight. I’ve never really…um…followed the rules to a T, but I got really bad in college. I just kind of did what I wanted when I wanted even if I knew I would be in trouble for it. Actually, I did the shit that I did because I knew I’d get in trouble for it and it would reflect badly on him.” I speak openly, realizing that I haven’t been able to speak so freely to anyone. Not in a long time. Not since my grandfather passed away. Thoughts of my grandfather leaving me so alone causes a fucking knot to sprout up in my throat. I’m quick to redirect my train of thought. “My favorite color is blue. Shocking, I know.”
Sadie lets out a small laugh and it chases away the depressing thoughts about my grandfather.
“I used to drink a lot. Too much. I drink vegetable juice every single day and I always moan and groan to myself, wishing I could pour a little vodka into my cup.”
She gets down from her elbow and rests her temple on my shoulder, careful to steer clear of my chest.
“I work out every morning,” I continue. “Same routine. Nothing crazy. It’s the fitness regimen that my cardiologist and nutritionist worked out for me. Speaking of him…I see Dr. Hendrix more than I see my family. Isn’t that fucked up?”
Sadie nods against my shoulder, but still doesn’t speak.