I hear what he’s saying, but none of it makesanysense. Had she fled Oklahoma to come here to Texas? On her own? And he was just—finewith that? Oh well, good luck to you?
That can’t be right. I don’t think he knew the stakes. The stakes being a fucking teen pregnancy.
Bile creeps up my throat, which I know is a childish reaction. The thing is, my nervous system has taken a beating lately. With an unexpected reunion like this to top it all off, I can feel it finally shutting down as a result.
Ifeelchildish right now, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do to pull it together and act my age. I’m sitting in the same room with my biological father, hearing things about alleged family drama. Was it because of me? Did I cause that?
“Course, I still thought about you. Hoped you were well over the years.”
“Wait. You knew about me, then? From the beginning?”
My head pounds as he avoids eye contact.
“I did,” he admits. My entire world tilts on its axis. “You’d have been doomed as a kid if my ugly mug stuck around. Saved you a few therapy bills letting your mom do the proper raisin’,” he adds with a deep laugh.
I put a fist over my mouth and lean forward until my head is nearly between my knees.
In my mind, my parents were in love all their lives. They tragically lost me somehow and cried over it together, surely. Every little detail about who I wanted my dad to be was of a man filled with regret. He’d longed for me. But Monty is making jokes.
I recognize the easy deflection. I’ve used it myself too many times to count.
Making people around me smile or laugh to avoid heavy topics is a dangerous habit. One I inherited, apparently.
The longer you do it, the more you forget how to converse normally without cracking jokes. You forget who you were before you started doing it, too. When the day ends, and you’re left with two versions of yourself, you forget which one rings true.
Hearing him do it annoys me to no end, and my anger continues to build. I sit up straight and try to collect myself before I say something I can never take back.
“She didn’t raise me, though. Shedied.”
“I’m real sorry to learn that. Iris was a special lady, and I wish you’d been able to have her around.” He pauses and clears his throat. Probably to tamp down the impulse to make another joke. “It looks like you’ve done well for yourself. Having someone like me around would have been more than a bad example to you. I wouldn’t have been able to set you on any sort of path to success, and I knew that.”
“Awesome,” I mumble. “Well, this is going well.”
“I can see you’re uncomfortable, son.”
“Son?” I choke out with a huff.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He stands, and I copy his movement.
We’re face-to-face again. My hands ball into fists.
The heaviness between us brings me back to my real state of adulthood for long enough to stop panicking. I sure as hell can’t go back and change the way my life turned out as someone without contact or knowledge of a single family member. Neither can he. At least he’s being upfront.
Still, fury builds in my chest. This is too much.
I look like him. I talk like him. The resemblance is maddening because the fact is, I don’t like what I see or the other similar qualities we share.
He says he’s bad with women in relationships. He jokes about leaving me to my own devices as a literal child. Am I supposed to accept that and just be happy that he’s finally coming around to meet me? He just got out of rehab too, and I’m beginning to think the universe sent him here to me as an entirely too personal and hard-hitting warning.
Know your place.
“It’s—fine,” I lie. “I’m just shocked. This is a lot for me.”
“Maybe I should come back another time.”
He moves to walk past me. I start to feel guilty for pushing him away. Not long ago, I fantasized about getting this chance. Most everything he said confirmed my fears about a rough meeting, but I’m making it even worse. When he opens the door, I turn to face him.
“Just call next time.”
