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He’s never brought up our shopping habits before now, at least not with me, so I never thought about how much I was spending. Never thought he might be struggling to pay for it all. Not until now.
“I work all fucking day and night because I’m the one who has to pay for it all since your mother up and quit her job. And not once have you heard me complain about it. But now you and your mother want to throw it in my face that I’m always at work and too fucking tired to do anything when I get home. You can’t have it both ways.”
“But…but she told me that you wanted her to quit. That she didn’t have to work anymore because you had more than enough to take care of us.” That last part comes out sounding like a question because I’m starting to doubt what Mom has been telling me about their financial situation.
“First of all, she quit before talking to me about it. And second of all, I put up with it because I did have more than enough. But that was before you two started treating my credit card like a bottomless well of cash. And instead of complaining about it, I picked up more hours so I wouldn’t drain my savings or go into debt because I didn’t want you two to go without. But somehow that’s made me the bad guy who doesn’t give you two enough attention, and now she’s getting that attention from some asshole she met online while I’ve been footing the bill.”
My heart is breaking for him as I reevaluate our behavior and when we started treating him as a walking, talking wallet since it didn’t used to be that way. I try to think back to when his personality changed and he started ignoring me. When he could barely stand being in my presence, and when he and Mom started fighting more often and spending less and less time together.
Now that I’m looking at him, really looking at him, I can see the toll our treatment has taken on him. Where my mother sees a cold man who let himself go after they got married, I see a broken man who has worked himself to the point of exhaustion.
Dad has always been a ruggedly handsome man—the kind of man I used to hope I would end up with when I got older—but the overgrown beard in need of a trim, the dark bags under his hazel eyes, and the way his stomach has recently started hanging over his belt since he stopped going to the gym are clear enough evidence that he hasn’t had the time or energy to take care of himself when he’s been so busy taking care of us.
And what does he get for all of his hard work? An unfaithful wife and an ungrateful, selfish daughter who has the audacity to blame him, even for just one moment, for Mom cheating on him and leaving.
“I give, and I give, and I give, but it’s like nothing I do matters. I don’t matter.” He finishes that last part quietly, his voice cracking. It’s like all the air goes out of him at once, and he sags back against the wall, tugging at his beard again. He’s always been a strong, stoic man, but right now he looks like he’s on the verge of crying.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I—” My voice cracks. “You do matter, and I’m sorry that I never thought about what it’s like to be in your shoes.” I look up at him pleadingly as I come to stand just in front of him. It’s been so long since he’s hugged me, and I want that more than ever, but he’d probably be annoyed if I tried to hug him right now. “I’ll do better from now on. I’ll return everything I bought today and cut up the credit card. I’ll…I’ll get a job and start paying for my own things so you can cut back on your hours and start taking care of yourself again.”
He shakes his head as he drops his hands and looks down at the floor instead of facing me, his expression twisted in pain. “It doesn’t matter now. Your mother…she’s not coming back—not that I want her to—and she’s taking you with her. You’ll start calling that slimy asshole ‘Dad’ instead of me, and with his fancy tech job, I’m sure you’ll both be a hell of a lot happier.”
“Never. I’ll never call him that,” I say with conviction. “You’ll always be my dad.” But then fear strikes me right in the heart and my thoughts spin. What if…what if he doesn’t want to be my dad anymore because I’ve been so stupid and horribly selfish? He’s told me plenty of times that he loves me, even though he doesn’t say it nearly as often anymore, but does my mother cheating and leaving mean he’ll stop loving me? Has he already stopped? What if he never wants to see me again once he’s no longer legally my stepfather?
“Oh god,” I squeak out and surprise him by going up on my tiptoes and throwing my arms around his neck, squeezing him tight enough to nearly choke him. I’m near hysterical by my spinning thoughts when I beg him, “Tell me you still want to be my dad after you and Mom get divorced. Please don’t stop loving me, Daddy.”
Instead of answering out loud, he wraps his sturdy arms around my back and pulls me close to his chest. He drops his forehead to my shoulder and cries. I have never seen this man cry, not even when he broke his leg when he fell off the roof last Christmas putting up Christmas lights. The bone was sticking out of his shin and everything, and he never shed a single tear.
It’s absolutely gut-wrenching listening to him cry now.
Chapter 2
Tina
Even as my heart hurts for this man and his pain, pure, radiant joy floods my body when he doesn’t reject my affection, at least for the time being. Joy and relief at feeling his arms around me, hugging me close like he used to as I plaster myself to his broad chest so I can soak in the warmth and comfort his large size has always provided.
We stay like that for a long time, neither of us making a move to end the hug, even as my arms start to go a little tingly. It gives me time to think of something I can do to help relieve him of his pain, to fix what Mom has broken. Offering to cut up my credit card and get a job was a good start, but I know it’s not enough.
My thoughts cycle back to some of the arguments I overheard recently. I remember cringing when I heard Mom laughing cruelly after she asked, “Why would I want to suck a fat man’s dick? Maybe if you lost some weight, I’d actually want to fuck you again. Until then…”
I hadn’t stuck around for the rest of that conversation.
I’ve never thought of Dad as fat, but I also wasn’t the one he was trying to climb on top of.
Now it’s all I can think about.
Not only was she not sleeping with him as she criticized his weight and called him ugly names, but she was also fucking some skinny asshole behind his back. What she did is beyond unforgivable.
Maybe that’s how I can help him feel better…give him something that she refused to give. Maybe he’ll even let me stay here instead of making me leave when she comes back for me. I’ll do anything it takes to make him happy again, to erase her cruel words and betrayal, and to apologize for my shitty behavior.
I finally release my hold around his neck, trailing my hands down his arms to his work-roughened hands around my back, the heat of which I can feel through the thin material of my sheer black tank top. Slowly, he allows me to pull them away, and he looks heartbroken all over again when I let go. He drops his head back against the wall and clenches his eyes shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose, so he doesn’t see me when I quickly tie up my thick, auburn hair, slip off my sandals, and sink to my knees in front of him.
“Daddy, look at me,” I whisper.
He shakes his head twice and clamps his mouth shut, cutting off what I think is a sob. I eye his brown leather belt with the large metal belt buckle he won at a rodeo back when he was in his twenties. From the pictures he’s shown me of his competition days, I know he’s always been a handsome, imposing man. But now, even with his bulkier frame and bags under his eyes, I think he’s grown even more attractive as he’s aged. He’s nothing like Tim, and I have no idea what Mom could possibly see in him when she has Dad.
Had Dad.
She’s an idiot. A cruel, heartless idiot, and I refuse to be anything like her. She may not care about him, but I do, and I’ll do anything to keep his love. To keep him.
