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She takes it and puts it into her pocket, then pulls me into her. “Goodbye, Jax.” She places a kiss on my right cheek. “Goodbye, Tobin.” Her lips press against my left cheek, accompanied by a slight nibble. Then she kisses my lips and leans closer to my ear. “And you too, Daddy Kane. Goodbye.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Aurora
I’ve made it forty-eight hours, but I can’t stop feeling like I’m crawling out of my skin. My parents haven’t even spoken to me. Instead of sitting down and having a discussion, they mope around the house with scowls on their faces. I left school, and they can’t get past that. They probably wish I’d been missing after all. Dead somewhere. At least I wouldn’t be their college fucking dropout.
I walk into the living room. Based on the bottles at his feet, my father is already seven beers deep. His glassy eyes never leave the television. My mom’s nowhere to be found. The whole house is silent except for the low sounds coming from the TV.
“Well, if it isn’t my disappointment,” he says with a cheeriness that grates against my nerves. “Come sit down beside your dear old dad.”
I hesitate, but he slaps the cushion beside him. I knock into a bottle as I walk over and sit down. The glass hits the hardwood and rolls.
“You know, I left my job, a job I loved, to be more of a parent to you.” His voice slurs with each word, and the fetid scent of gut-fermented alcohol rolls toward me. “I did that, and then you go and shit on me by dropping out of college.”
“Dad, I left because...” I can’t seem to form the words to tell him what happened to me. He’s my father, for fuck’s sake. Even if the awkward factor was removed, he’d probably only victim-blame anyway.
His fiery eyes leave the TV and finally land on me. He clambers off the couch and stands over me. “There is no reason you can possibly conjure up that would make up for me leaving my job and turning in life insurance policies to pay for your fucking schooling. Inconsiderate bitch.”
He draws back his hand and slaps me across the face. Aside from blinking to clear the sting in my eyes, I don’t react. I learned my stoicism at an early age.
Then his words finally reach my ears, and I have to stuff down the anger. I was never the one who wanted him to give up his job, and I sure as shit didn’t ask him to fund my schooling. That was all my mother. I’m not sure why she wanted him home to begin with. His temper has always been terrible.
A burning pain blazes beneath my right eye, and I can already sense the bruise forming beneath my skin. This isn’t the first mark he’s left on me, and it won’t be the last if I stay here.
I stand and push past him. He stumbles backward, then tries to follow me, but I’m already in my bedroom. I lock the door and go to the desk beside my bed.
When I was twelve, my dad bought a CB radio and set it up in my room. He taught me how to use it, but I never took much interest in it. Now, I couldn’t be more grateful for it.
I turn it on, and a crackle of static punches through the speakers. My fingers shake as I turn to the same frequency Kane used in his truck. Then I grab the microphone and squeeze. The silence tells me I can speak and possibly be heard.
“Three Amigos, are you out there?” I release the button and the static continues again. No one answers. “Three Amigos, this is Dropout. Can you hear me?”
I try for so long I sound desperate. It’s been two days, so he’s probably too far gone to hear me now. He’d have to be nearby, but he’s probably long gone.
“Three Amigos,” I say once more. When no one answers, I squeeze the mic one last time. “I’ll try again tomorrow.”
* * *
I unlock my bedroom door and head for the bathroom in the morning. I glance at my face in the mirror and quickly look away. Just like I thought, a nice shiner mars my cheek. It’s purple and pink, nice and fresh. Can’t wait to explain that to my mother.
Who am I kidding? She’ll play dumb when she sees it. She’s completely blind to bruises that come from my father’s hands.
I thought things would have changed since I’ve been gone. The last time I spoke to my mother, she said my father had stopped drinking and was a “new man,” so either my mother lied or my college status derailed his sobriety that much. Either way, I shouldn’t have come home. Kane brought me here because he thought I’d be safe. I’m no safer here than I was in Kane’s truck, but at least I had some happiness with them.
Even with Kane.
I go into the kitchen for breakfast. My mother notices my face and gasps, but she doesn’t respond to it directly. Instead, she turns back to the vegetables on the cutting board and starts dicing them. I’m so glad to know the breakfast omelet is more important than my well-being.
“I really wish you would have stayed in school,” she finally says.
“Well, I didn’t, and I wish you guys would accept that.”
“Your father won’t.”
“Then what am I doing here?”
“I don’t know.” She lowers the knife, and her shoulders drop. “I thought it would be different.”
