not that much. For the first time in my life I feel planted somewhere. Please don’t try and uproot me again. Now
I get your reasons for relocating so often, but that doesn’t change how hard it was. For once I have friends, people I care about. Commitments. A job, even, though I’ve barely started it yet. I have an actual life.”
You call those people friends?
A Mexican—he spits the word— and a boyfriend who’s cheating on you. Bet you didn’t know that.
“But you did? Thanks for
telling me, and hate to spoil the surprise, but I happen to know about Gabe and Hillary.”
I’m Glad I Do
He wanted so much
to hurt me with that.
He was almost giddy, in fact. I dare to look him straight in the eye, and the storm of emotions churning there almost makes me back down.
Rage.
Pain.
Confusion.
Disgust.
Hate.
Overwhelming hate.
You want to be with her, don’t you? I can’t believe after all we’ve been through together you’d choose that goddamn whore over me.
“What are you talking about? I did not choose anyone over you. I just can’t stomach the idea of living on the run.
How did I not realize that’s what we were doing?”
Lies, Lies, Lies
How could I have been
so freaking dense?
Okay, fine. Desert me, then.
That’s how much I mean to you?
Use me, then throw me away, like a snot-smeared Kleenex?
“Nice visual, Dad. Awesome.
But the honest-to-God truth is it was you who used me.”
How do you figure that?
Exactly how did I use you?
“You used me as revenge, a pawn in your game
of payback. You used me as a means to an end,
dangling me like a lure in your meal ticket
fishing derby.
Mostly I think you used me so you wouldn’t spend your life alone. Didn’t you realize at some point
I’d become an adult?
You can’t own people,
and that includes me.”
I’m Shredded
How do I reconcile loving my father with despising what he’s done? What happens next?
And who are we now?
I can’t stay here any longer.
He’s masterful at what he’d call persuasion, and I won’t take a chance on his coercing me into leaving with him.
“You do what you have to do.
I’m spending the night with Monica. It’s her birthday.”
I make up my mind without even thinking it over.
She’s my one constant.
I can see his brain at work, searching for the exact
retort to turn me around.
And, here it comes.
Okay, then, Casey . . .
He hisses the name, malice shadowing his voice.
You run along to your beaner friend. I wash my hands of you, you ungrateful fucking brat.
The Words Pierce
Like rusty tines,
and all I can do is bleed silently, any verbal response futile. I push past him and go to grab clothes and my toothbrush.
Should I throw everything into a suitcase, like Dad suggested?
If I don’t and he takes off, how long will I have to collect it? I don’t even know when the rent is due or how it gets paid, or what company provides
the power. I’m far, far away from being anything like an adult.
I can’t possibly live on my own.
Falling apart, I flop onto my bed, cover my head with the pillow I’ve slept on almost every night since we moved in here.
In the space of a single
afternoon, the entire fabric of my already fragile existence has turned into tatters.
“I hate you, Maya McCabe!”
I scream into the pillowcase-covered foam lumps.
“Why couldn’t you
leave us alone?”
I Sink Into
The mattress and it sinks into me that, whatever
her reasons, she has appeared and, regardless, the only direction I (or anyone)
can move is forward.
This day is almost over.
Tomorrow has yet
to materialize, but
that will definitely happen unless I choose to end
it all right now, right here.
I’ve got way too much
to live for, and if that means a fight, so be it. Dad might be a coward, but that weakness isn’t genetic and I’ll be damned if I’m giving up now.
Pretty sure Dad’s used
our entire luggage collection, so I dig under my bed
for last year’s secondhand backpack, stuff in as much as I reasonably can. I also grab this year’s new Walmart-special backpack, which carries
my schoolbooks and supplies.
Whatever my living arrangements stay or become, I plan on showing up right on time for classes on Monday morning. If I find I don’t have a bedroom here, I’ll stay with Monica or Syrah or, who knows? Maybe Zelda will let me move in. If all else fails, there’s my car or the tack room at the barn. I’ll go to work tomorrow morning, not to prove I’m too grown up to fail, but simply because I need to start earning my way. If Dad disappears (oh, after everything we’ve experienced together, and so many times I feared that’s exactly what would happen?), at least I’ll have a measure of independence. And then, one day, one step forward, at a time.
Resolve
Is an amazing thing.
Too bad mine fails
almost immediately,
mostly because I totally underestimated my father.
You’ve packed your things.