Page 911 of One More Kiss
I shook my head. The tiniest hint of a smile came across my face, and I hated him for it.
“January 22nd.” He sighed, lacing his hands behind his head. “That was the day I found my dad. Not the day he died. Because he killed himself days before. Drove his car into the middle of nowhere, hooked a hose up to his exhaust, and gassed himself out. That was on a Sunday. I found him Tuesday. Worst day of my life, and I can’t imagine that will ever change.”
Jesus Christ.
I hadn’t even noticed I was crying until I wiped my face. I wasn’t sure if I was crying for him or for me or both of us. Silent, pouring, painful tears.
I wasn’t sure where the urge came from, but I needed to talk all of a sudden. All the things inside of me built up in the back of my throat, and I needed to get them out.
“I never knew my dad.” Although the tears had stopped again, my words were thick. “He got my mom pregnant at a concert. She says she didn’t even get his name.”
“Wow.” Daniel let out the word in a breath.
I sighed and went on, “But that’s not even the worst part.”
A smirk spread across his face. “What, was it a crappy country concert?”
I shook my head and returned his smile. “She decided to have me. To make the best of it all.” I used air quotes as I repeated her words. “But I never really felt like she did her best. I was left alone a lot. She partied…a lot. Sometimes, she invited men over to the apartment instead of going out. But that was only worse.”
“Did they hurt you?” Daniel cut in quickly.
I shook my head. “No. She didn’t let them do that. But for the most part, I was just…on my own.”
“How old?”
“Little. Starting around the time I was four, I was left alone enough to learn how to use a toaster.”
His jaw tensed. “Jesus.”
“That was after realizing that dry pancake mix does not, in fact, taste like pancakes.” I tried to lighten the mood, but Daniel’s eyes were hard, his fists clenching as he took in what I was saying.
“One day, when I was about seven, I looked at the ingredients on the back of the box and tried to make them. The picture looked so good, and I wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything. She’d been gone for about three days. I mixed it all together and put it in the microwave. But I also put a fork in there with it. I don’t know why. The fire department came. Then the police. They couldn’t find my mom, so they called Gran. After that, I was with her a lot.”
“Did she get custody of you?” His hand moved to rest on my foot, and I could feel the warmth of it through my Converse.
I shook my head. “Not exactly. I guess it was more complicated than that. But Gran fought for it. Anyway. She basically raised me. And one year ago, today, she died. She had some fluke seizure and just…” I snapped my fingers.
“I’m sorry. I know those words mean shit. I hate them, too. But I mean it, Tate.”
I nodded, my eyes tearing up again. Then I admitted something I had never admitted before. “I’m tired of being sad.” My voice cracked. “I’m tired of being tired. And I’m tired of being me.”
Daniel sat up, leaning toward me and grabbing my hands. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to sit here for exactly two minutes and fifty-one seconds, listening to a song about how fucked up we are. We will just feel all the things. And then, we are going into the living room, and we’re going to watch a movie.”
He was so crazy I had to laugh. “What movie? What song?”
“‘All My Favorite Songs,’ by Weezer. Obviously. And Cowboys and Aliens. Naturally.” He leaned out of the tub, rummaging around.
“And that will make me feel better, how?”
He ducked his head back through the curtain again and raised a brow at me. “Do cowboys or aliens have anything to do with my dad, your gran, your mom, or life in general?”
“No.”
He went back to rummaging on the other side of the curtain. I couldn’t see what he was doing.
“Exactly.” His hands finally appeared, holding two beers. He handed me one.
I just sat there, watching as he cracked his open, clinked it to mine, and hit play on his phone. He took a sip with a smirk on his lips, swallowed, and started belting out the lyrics.
