Page 73 of Covetous

I end the call and pull over to the side of the road, letting myself fall apart. I cry for Esme, for the friendship we had. I cry until there’s nothing left, until my eyes are red and puffy, and my throat is raw.

As I merge back onto the highway, my mind drifts to the only place I can think of that might offer some solace. It’s been over a year since I’ve spent the night, but right now, I need something familiar.

The miles slip away as I drive, the monotony of the road soothing my frayed nerves. I try not to think about the shitstorm waiting for me back in the real world—the gossip that’s sure to spread like wildfire.

As I pull up to the house, a flood of memories washes over me. The place looks almost the same as it did when I was a kid, back when Grandma Cora and Grandpa George were still alive. The sprawling home still exudes an air of grandeur. The white columns flank the entrance, the immaculate lawn stretches out like a green carpet, and the circular driveway is lined with perfectly trimmed hedges. It’s like stepping into a different world.

Dad’s kept up with the gardening, and the flower beds along the walkway are bursting with color—vibrant red roses, delicate pink peonies, and sunny yellow daffodils. It’s a stark contrast to the darkness I felt when my dad and I first moved in after Mama died.

I sit in the car for a minute, trying to gather my thoughts. Things with Dad have been getting better lately, and I know he’ll be there for me like he’s been trying to be. But part of me is still that lost little girl, navigating a world that doesn’t make sense. The wounds from my childhood, from all the years of feeling neglected and lonely, are still there, simmering beneath the surface.

Taking a deep breath, I step out of the car and make my way up the familiar path to the front door. I know I need to face this, to let myself feel everything I’ve been running from. And maybe, just maybe, coming back to this place, to the father who’s trying his best to be there for me, is the first step toward healing my deepest and oldest wounds.

My key turns smoothly in the lock, and I step into the house, the silence enveloping me like a familiar embrace. All the lights are out, which means Dad is probably asleep. That’s okay with me. We can talk tomorrow. I actually prefer it.

As I turn on a lamp, the soft light floods the space. Looking around, I can’t help but notice how neat and clean everything is. The surfaces gleam, not a speck of dust in sight. It’s clear Dad’s been using a housecleaning service—a luxury we could never have afforded back when we lived in an old small house when Mama was alive.

The heavy curtains that used to cover the windows are gone, replaced by naked glass that lets the moonlight pour in. The old-school furniture has been swapped out for some modern, minimalist pieces. And instead of the wall-to-wall family photos, Dad’s favorite paintings—many of them his own—hang on the walls. The brick fireplace that once dominated the room has given way to a gleaming marble one. Despite all these changes, two constants remain: a picture of Mama on Dad's bedside table in his room, and a photo of me with my grandparents perched on the fireplace mantel.

I pause in front of the mantel photo—taken when I was about seven—my fingers tracing the ornate frame as memories flood my mind.

I’m transported back to that day, watching as Grandma Cora’s Rolls-Royce pulls up to our house. Mama had stayed up all night cleaning in preparation for her visit. That morning, she’d curled my hair into perfect ringlets, which Grandma adored. She didn’t, however, approve of the dress Mama had picked out for me. She’d wanted us in the same color, which Mama had rolled her eyes at. I remember eyeing the garment bag in the car, knowing it was a brand-new dress.

Mama’s smile was tight as she watched me climb into the car, constantly wringing her hands and rubbing her nose. Dad stayed in the bedroom, only poking his head out to say hello to Grandma and a quick goodbye to me before disappearing again. Even at seven years old, I knew the signs. They both needed a hit, something to take the edge off.

As soon as I left, they’d be reaching for their stash, their brief moment of unity.

“Bug?” Dad’s voice makes me jump.

I spin around from the mantel to face him, his man bun all crooked on top of his bedhead. Concern etches his features as he takes in my expression. His faded Wu-Tang Clan T-shirt exposes the scattered tattoos covering most of his arms, a stark contrast to the soft flannel of his pajama pants.

“Hey, Dad.” I try to smile, but it feels fake as hell, the weight of the day’s shit show dragging me down.

“It’s late. You okay?” He takes a step closer, his eyes searching mine in the dim light.

I nod, thanking the universe for the darkness that hides the shiner on my cheek. I’ll tell him about the dumpster fire that is my life, but not tonight. Tonight, I just need the comfort of my old room and the safety of a place that holds some good memories, even if it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows when I first moved in.

“I just thought I’d crash in my old room if that’s cool.”

“Sure.” Dad scratches his head. “I can whip us up some breakfast in the morning.”

“Sounds good.” The idea of a home-cooked meal and chilling with my dad like old times brings a real smile to my face.

He starts to head back to his room, but then he stops, turning to look at me one more time. The concern in his eyes is evident, and I know he’s dying to ask, to make sure I’m really okay.

“You sure you’re all right?” His voice is gentle, almost hesitant.

“Can we talk in the morning?”

He nods, reluctantly, and I can see how hard it is for him to hold back.

“Yeah, tomorrow morning. It’s good to see you, Bug.”

“You too, Dad.” The words stick in my throat, heavy with all the feels.

As he disappears down the hallway, I let out a sigh. Being back here, in this house, is exactly where I need to be. A place to rest, to let the waterworks flow.

Tomorrow, I’ll face the world again. Tomorrow, I’ll tell Dad everything. But tonight, I’ll let myself be that lost little girl, just for a little while longer.

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