“What do you mean, what about you?”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Merc, you’re an adult, they’re kids—”
“I was a kid too.”
“You’re so strong. Always have been. Stronger than them or me, stronger than your mom.”
“Because someone had to be.”
“And you stepped up. You’re amazing, Mercy. You do what I could never do.”
I tense in a body-wide clench. It’s a line I hear from him a lot, but also from others and it’s infuriating. Someone has to do what needs to be done and when people say that phrase it means they’re leaving said things for another to tackle. That’s just logic. Dad deciding he couldn’t meant either me deciding I could or letting us fall apart.
He didn’t feel responsible enough. For some reason I did.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him how scared I was the whole time. How I didn’t want to, but the fear made me more afraid to not do what needed to be done than doing it did.
Bea broke her arm one time and I thought she was dying—eleven-year-old thoughts. I made myself come up with a solution to get her to the hospital even though I was afraid of what would happen when they found out Dad wasn’t home when it happened. All I could think of was Bea though. I focused on her instead of the terror threatening to eat me alive.
I didn’t like being home alone at night, just the three of us in the dark, while he was out either working or partying or working and then partying. My mind whirred with anxious scenario after anxious scenario of someone breaking in. Some nights I sat up with a baseball bat in my hand on the couch, ready for that intruder who would have taken out scrawny little me in a heartbeat.
Saying this stuff to Dad only makes him feel worse. It doesn’t make anything better. I’d rather have him in my life in some capacity than not at all, which is the only other choice in this scenario. That’s not on for me. What’s done has been done. He is who he is.
Look at that, only eight months with Jack and I’m already dealing with my dad bullshit. Maybe someday, I’ll deal with my mom bullshit.
This is over.
“Wanna go harass a bunch of Calder Cup winners? Hands off the one in the suit. He’s mine.”
“Oh, good, Merc. That mean you got back together? I was hoping you would. He’ll make a good Meyer someday. I know that much.”
I don’t tell him that I don’t know if we’re together or not. There’s no misunderstanding. I know what Jack said, but I also know where this kind of thing goes, which is why I gave Jack an easy out. Things with me won’t be easy. They could be with Rhett or hell, someone else. He deserves the opportunity to explore those thoughts without me clouding his judgement by virtue of me just being there.
At the same time, it doesn’t matter what our status is. Jack is mine and that’s true no matter what the fuck else is going on.
“By the way, what the fuck are you wearing, son? That hat looks like it’s seen better days.”
Right. Jack’s clothes. I drove straight here from the rink, inhaling his scent to calm me down and toying with the brim because I know that’s where he touches it the most. Yeah, I’m a bit fanatical right now.
Thing is, I need him to go off to “think” for selfish reasons too. I need to know that if I try to toss him back into the sea, he’ll come back to me. He didn’t mean to shake me up, but his actions did, and things won’t be right between us if we simply migrate back together like we easily could have done tonight.
When he put his hat on me that was a good start. He’s never left this thing on purpose, only when he’s forgotten it and that only serves to throw him into a frenzy. He trusted me with his lucky hat. It may as well have been a vital organ.
“It’s what I’m wearing to Rodney’s, but you’re not wearing that. C’mon. Let’s get you into something nicer and brush your hair. We’ve got a Calder Cup to celebrate.”
* * *
My house is empty. Don’t know why I expected anything else since I live alone. There’s just always someone here, I guess. It’s cold too. It might be spring in Vancouver, but it’s a damn rainforest and the weather does whatever it wants, sometimes changing several times a day. It’s not uncommon to get snow, rain, and sunshine all in the same afternoon.
Not today. The weather is as cloudy as my mood, complete with charcoal towering cumulonimbus clouds to thicken the sky. Looks like a great big welcome home storm is on its way. Thankfully, I don’t have much to unpack. Just my clothes toiletries and the dolls Jack gave me for Valentine’s Day. Dammit. Looking at them makes my lip tremble so I shove them way into the back of a drawer.
Knew I should never have brought him to my house. It’s like his essence is here, floating around. I know which flowers he cut from construction paper and stuck to the wall with Lorelei because I couldn’t take my eyes off him while he was doing it. I might have to burn my bedsheets. He was in my bed and if I do something as pathetic as sleep on the side of the bed where his creamy skin touched the sheets, I’ll never let myself live it down.
I hate this. I’m never falling in love again.
As if love gave me a choice in the matter.
