I freeze, but don’t turn around. My hands are fisted at my sides, anger coming to a rapid boil. I’m itching to unleash its wrath. “I don’t have anything to say to you,” I hiss through gritted teeth, still refusing to look at the man who disgusts me now. The man I used to admire.
“Good,” he counters. “Because I’m going to do all the talking and you’re going to listen. Turn around, son.” That word sounds vile in my ears. At this moment I wish I were anyone else’s son but his. Still, I spin around to face him, his commanding tone leaving me no other choice. “Let me explain,” he continues, standing there in a pair of pants and no shirt. He makes me sick.
“I think what I saw was pretty self-explanatory,” I growl. “You’re the one who told me about the birds and the bees.” Then a thought occurs to me. “What was that earlier anyway?” I snap. “That sad, desperate man with the bottle. Was that all an act? Because from what I can see, it sure as hell was.”
“Things are not as they appear, Vance.”
“Obviously.”
He lets out an uneven breath, hands rigid on his hips. “Do you want to know where I go every Friday night?”
My eyes squeeze shut and I bite my cheek. “I don’t want to hear this.”
“I go to see your mother,” he admits, and my eyes pop open as I glare at him in the darkness.
“Do you want a medal for that?” I snarl, jamming my hands in my pockets. He starts to talk but his words are muffled by the horrific moans that filtered from his room. By his naked form hovering over someone else.
“I bring her a pad and some paints,” he adds to whatever I missed. “And I hold my hand over her shaky one, hoping maybe she’ll remember something. When we’re done, she always tells me it looks like an ugly doodle. But you know what I see?” He pauses, the strain in his tone softening. “I see beauty. Because when she looks up, laughing at herself… I stare into her eyes to find the girl I took on our first date to a painting class, because I knew how much she loved it.” He steps toward me and I back away. “I see the only woman I’ve ever loved. The one that I know,” he comes even closer, raw emotion in his voice, “is never coming back to me.”
An anguished breath rattles the air between us and my fury wanes. “She may be your mother, Vance. But that’s my wife in there. And I miss her. And… I’ve been so… lonely. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a woman, and I’m sorry that this hurts you, son. But I won’t apologize for being lonely. For needing someone. And if the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t want your mother to be lonely either.”
His words provoke the crazy in my chest. “But that’s the thing, Dad. Isn’t it? She’s all alone. Without her memory, she has nothing. She has no one.”
Thick silence stretches between us until he breaks it. “You have to know, Vance. I’ll never love anyone like I love your mother. It’s just not possible.” The lamppost shines against his face and a tear streaks down his cheek. My heart is in my throat, sympathy for him somehow finding its way inside.
The front door opens then, and my mouth along with it. Any sympathy I had for my father goes right out the fucking window.
Something clicks in my head, as if a light turns on and everything becomes brutally clear. “What the… is she the reason we moved here, Dad?”
“Vance—”
I cut him off. “Answer the question. Oh my God, are you fucking in love with her?”
I don’t need an answer. It’s in his eyes, and on her face. It’s swirling in the air around us until it swallows me whole—and I only have one choice.
I should have known better.
Every good thing I felt gets swept away in a matter of seconds. A tidal wave pulls me under and takes it from me, tossing me around until it’s gone.
Maybe it wasn’t meant for me after all.
My head hurts and I can’t think straight. The need to escape before I say or do something I’ll regret is overwhelming. My father shouts after me, pleading, as I lunge into the car. But my ears are ringing and my soul is completely shattered.
I shove the key into the ignition then yank the gear lever down, slamming my foot on the gas pedal. Tires screech as I peel out of the driveway and speed off down the street. My hands won’t stop trembling and I wrap them tighter around the steering wheel as harsh tears drag across my cheeks.
Everything is fucked now.
With no destination in mind, I keep driving, promising myself that I won’t look back—that I can’t look back. Because if I do, the only thing I’ll see is the one thing I’m leaving behind.
My heart.
LIGHT BEAMING IN the window startles me awake. The bright moon filters through the curtains and I press my face into the pillow, unable to contain my smile. As I turn over to find the reason for it, he isn’t there. Instead, a single pink rose lies in his place. I bring it to my nose, inhaling its sweet scent and remembering every vivid detail of our night—Vance’s hands, his lips, his whispered words. My skin tingles everywhere he touched, his smell lingering on my sheets and in the air.