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“My mother lay dying in hospital while you were getting your rocks off with her best friend.”
“That’s enough.” He throws back his scotch.
“You must’ve been worried, because you took me to FAO Schwarz and told me I could pick anything I want. You didn’t try to explain, and you didn’t comfort me. You paid me off. You made me an accessory, made me take a share of the guilt. I will never forgive you for that.”
His glass rings as he puts it down. “You have no idea what I did to keep this family intact.”
“Yeah, I do,” I say, drawing closer. “You gaslit your own daughter.”
“You think you’re the only one who suffered?” He pivots, his blue eyes flashing as I stand in front of him, my hands balled into tight fists.
“You married her within the year.” My volume and distress escalate with each word. “You moved her into my mother’s home, so don’t tell me you fucking suffered!”
The slap comes out of nowhere, a whoosh and sharp crack preceding the explosion of pain across my cheek. My ears ring, and as the room tilts, I stagger backward. Until Dad catches me by the elbow.
“Don’t you ever speak to me like that again.” His breathing is hard and his voice frighteningly low.
“You’re hurting me,” I say as pain shoots up my arm.
“You are a constant reminder of everything that went wrong.” His spittle hits my face, his eyes a hateful sweep over me. “You weren’t even enough to keep her alive.”
“Why would you . . .” I shake my head in denial, but my heart hurts as I somehow intuit what he’s about to say.
“She didn’t die of cancer. She killed herself.”
“No.”
“She left you.”
“You’re lying.” My answer sounds distant, like it’s come from somewhere else, some other reality. My cheek ceases to hurt and I no longer feel his grip.
“She wasn’t strong enough.”
“Why would you say that?” My heart, it breaks. Physically. I hear the snap, feel the echo of it through me. “Why would you say such a terrible thing?” I shake my head, distraught. It’s not just his words but the pervading sense that I already know this. That it’s true. No. No!
“We told you cancer because it was easier. But I think you’re old enough to hear the truth. That you weren’t enough. You were never enough.”
My vision blurs. “I hate you,” I whisper as I pull from his grip and stagger from the room.
I’m numb. I can’t feel the pain in my cheek. Or my heart. It’s like my whole being has been hollowed out. I stumble in the direction of the hallway, words whirring through my head.
Killed herself. You weren’t enough. It’s all your fault.
I need Troy. I need to hear his voice. Feel his arms. But if I call him now, if I show up like this, I’ll only drag him into this mess.
He deserves better than that. He deserves better than me.
Your fault. All of it.
I swipe my keys from the drawer in the kitchen and slip out the back door, the gravel under my bare feet hardly registering. I get into my car with no idea where I’m heading. I only know I can’t be here.
The engine roars, and the driveway blurs, my hand shaking as I lift it from the wheel to wipe away my tears. I take a left out of the driveway, ignoring the screech of wheels. I curse, and I rage, and I cry. I drive too fast.
The road is straight but the night is so dark and my vision is blurred by tears. A turn up ahead. I don’t slow down. Who cares what happens to me anyway?
I clip the curb. The car swerves, and I overcorrect. I’ve lost control.
Don’t I always?
