Page 2 of Hate That Blooms
The divorce went a lot smoother than my dad was expecting. My mom didn’t want anything except the piece of paper that said she was free. She didn’t fight for alimony or the house—nothing. All she wanted was Santiago.Puta.
She left me.
Full custody went to my dad, and while I’m happy that’s how it turned out, it still hurts. The bitch just has to pay child support for nine months since I’m eighteen but still in school. Then she’s basically wiped her hands clean of me, she went no contact. I wonder if she has a relationship with Gabriela. Does she pretend to be her mom when she’s around? How does a mom just dip out on her kid?
Leaning back against my locker, I glare at her, and as if she can feel my eyes on her, she looks over at me. She gives me a half-hearted smile, as if to silently tell me she’s sorry. I slowly raise my hand as if I’m going to wave. Instead, I give her the middle finger. Gabriela’s smile falls, and she swallows hard, then averts her eyes from mine.
“Joaquín,carnal, the fuck! We’ve been waiting for you.” Thiago’s grip on my shoulder tightens as he tries to pull me away, but my gaze remains fixed on Gabriela.
Her friends, having noticed the tension between us, are now staring at me with scowls on their faces. I can feel the weight of their judgment, but I couldn’t care less. All I can think about is how Gabriela’s presence reminds me of everything I’ve lost. Fuck them, and most of all,fuck her.
As Thiago drags me towards the exit, memories of my parents’ divorce flood my mind. The bitterness and resentment I feel towards my mother is overwhelming. How could she just walk away from me, leaving me in the care of my father? He’s a brokenhearted mess and does the bare minimum at parenting. He keeps himself occupied with work, leaving me to fend for myself most days. It’s a wound that hasn’t healed, and seeing Gabriela only intensifies my anger.
Thiago’s voice breaks through my thoughts, trying to snap me out of my rage. “Come on, Joaquín. Let’s go, man. She’s not worth it.” His words register, and I reluctantly tear my gaze away from Gabriela. Taking one last glance at her, I see the hurt in her eyes, but I can’t find it in myself to care. What he doesn’t know is that everything I’m going to do to her, to make her suffer worse than I’m suffering, will all be worth it.
We make our way outside, away from the suffocating hallway, and into the fresh air. Thiago’s presence is a comforting distraction, and I try to focus on his words as he talks about our plans for after school. But my mind keeps drifting back to Gabriela and the unanswered questions that consume me.
Does she even understand the pain I’m going through? Does she know what it’s like to have a parent abandon you? Well, she does, but that’s besides the point. I wonder if her father’s absence has affected her in the same way. Is she just putting on a brave face, pretending everything is okay?
Not that I give a fuck about how she feels.
The unanswered questions gnaw at me, and I can’t shake off the urge to confront Gabriela. My anger and resentment towards her are consuming me, clouding my judgment. But for now, I try to focus on Thiago, and once we meet Nathan at the front of the school, we head out toward the park and our neighborhood.
* * *
“Bro, that shit’s fucked up,” Nathan says, coughing after taking a hit from the joint Thiago’s been passing around. He holds it out to me and I take it, needing to relax.
“Yeah, they just shipped me off to my grandparents, went through the divorce, and then my dad picked me up, alone, three days before registration. Meanwhile, thatputahas been with Gabriela’s dad the whole summer, probably whoring it up with him and playing mommy to his kids.” Taking a hit from the joint, I let the smoke fill my lungs, numbing me.
“You really think she's been hanging out with your mom? I mean, I don’t want to play the devil’s advocate here but what if she is just as pissed about it as you are?” Thiago chimes in.
I glare at him. “You’re seriously taking her side?”
“No, but I’m just saying,carnal, what if she’s hurt just as much as you are already? You really wanna make it worse?” He grabs the joint from me, takes the last drag, and then stubs it out.
“Joaquín, I got your back, bro. What’s the plan? How are we gonna fuck with her? Tell me you’ve got something cooked up.” Nathan rubs his hands together, a malicious grin on his face.
I pause for a moment, contemplating Nathan’s question. The anger and hurt inside me are still raw, but Thiago’s words strike a chord. Maybe there’s more to this situation than I initially thought. Taking a deep breath, I gather my thoughts.
“Guys, I’m just fucking angry right now, and I want to make her feel what I’ve been feeling,” I say.
Nathan raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean? I mean, you can’t make her dad disappear or anything like that.”
I shake my head. “No, I can’t do that. But I can make her feel like complete shit. Her dad likes whores, so she must be one too. So let’s treat her like one.”
Thiago leans forward, his eyes filled with curiosity. “Don’t you have the biggest crush on her?”
I take a moment to gather my thoughts before continuing. “Yeah, I do,” I admit reluctantly. “I mean I did, but things have changed.”
That hasn’t changed. I still think she's the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. But all of those feelings are in a battle with all the hate I feel inside.
Nathan and Thiago exchange glances, unsure of how to respond. They know the pain I’ve been through, but they also understand the importance of not crossing certain boundaries. We’ve been tight since we were just little kids, and since they know me so well, seeing me like this must make them uncomfortable. I’ve never been the type of person to hurt someone, but this girl, what her father did to my family, is making me rethink things. I’m just too angry to give a shit.
I check my watch, and it’s already a quarter to five, and Dad hates it when I’m late. “Fuck,” I mumble, “I have to go or my dad’s gonna be pissed. I’ll text you guys later.”
* * *
The sight of Dad’s work truck in the driveway has me ready for a lecture on being late. To hide the scent of weed, I quickly spray myself with body spray from my backpack before entering the house. Not that he doesn’t know already, but still. I silently shut the door behind me, hoping he is already asleep from a busy day.
