Page 38 of Unbound
I sleep like shit. The kind of restless sleep where you’re not sure if you actually slept, or tossed and turned all night.
I think of my music and Seattle and the difference between here and there. I think about Beck and Lincoln, and everything they said to me.
But I mostly think of Sophie.
Rain hits the window outside my bedroom window, a constant patter of thick drops and the occasional gust of wind slaps the glass. I toss and turn and wish like hell I wasn’t the way I am.
It’s been two days since I found out I was a father and I can’t say anything to her. I want so badly to talk to her, to apologize for the things I did, but there’s something inside me even I don’t understand.
You leave and you think, youknow, everyone’s better off without you and the longer time goes by, it’s easier to stay away. It seems almost natural. It’s not though. When you come back, that’s what’s hard. What’s hard is when you find out you have a kid you didn’t know about.
Maybe that’s why I slept like shit, constantly wondering what the fuck this means now. Does she want me in his life? Does he? Do I?
My bedroom door opens suddenly and in walks Nova. “Where have you been?”
I sit up on my elbows and change the subject. “Why are you in here?”
“Because I am.” She sits next to me and rests her head on my pillow. “Now where have you been?”
I scoot away from her. “Nova, I’m naked.”
She turns her head, looks at my bare chest and then at the ceiling. “I see that. Cover yourself up. I don’t want to see your tinkle.”
My tinkle? What the fuck is she talking about?
“My what?”
She rolls her eyes. “Your tinkle. Why are you avoiding my question?”
“Because I’m naked and I don’t want to be talking to you like that.” I pull my blanket up under my chin. “Go away.”
She points at me as she’s getting out of the bed. “Get dressed and then we’re talking.”
Scrubbing my hands down my face, I flop my head back against my pillow. Reaching for my cell phone on my nightstand, I roll over and check my messages. There’s one from Lincoln asking if I’m doing okay, but nothing from Beck. I don’t reply because forgive me, I’m still a little fucking bent by the shit they pulled the other night. I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be around, but they’re my boys. I’d have their backs no matter what.
Sitting up, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and sit there for a moment looking at my room. It’s clear my mom’s been in here a time or two since I’ve been gone. The clothes I left on the floor are gone, dresser drawers are pushed in and the carpet’s vacuumed.
Standing, I pull my jeans on from last night and dig a T-shirt and sweatshirt out of my bag I brought with me.
When I’m downstairs, I see Nova at the kitchen table and Mom over the stove. The rich scent of pancakes, syrup, and bacon carry through the room.
Mom smiles at me when I sit down next to Nova. “Feeling better today?”
I don’t look at her. “I still don’t get why you didn’t tell me.” She can sense my bitterness. She knows me that well.
“It wasn’t my place. Now eat.” She kisses my forehead, sweeping my hair from my face as she sets a plate of pancakes in front of me. “You look like you could use some food.”
Nova stares at me, fork in one hand, syrup in the other. “You look skinny.”
With a heavy sigh, I twist in the chair and haul Nova off the chair beside me and onto my lap. “You look a little skinny too, princess girl.” Digging my fingers into her ribs, I move them along carefully. “I can feel your ribs.”
Lightly, she slaps my cheek with her sticky left hand she manages to get free. “You’re supposed to feel ribs, dummy.”
I set my pancake princess back in her seat and stare at the food in front of me. It’s been a while since I’ve eaten an actual meal. Yesterday I had nachos from the bar and that was it. I have to admit, I missed my mom’s pancakes.
Though I desperately want a line, it gets easier every hour I’m away from Seattle. My body feels like I’m recovering from a flu, shaky and weak from the withdrawals of the lifestyle I had there, but it’s not unmanageable and nothing a cigarette or the occasional joint hasn’t eased.
“Okay, well, I have to go pick up Aunt Gale from the airport,” Mom says, waving at us and then jets out the back door to the garage.
