Page 53 of Fletch

I arrive at my father’s house within ten minutes. He’s waiting outside, pacing the porch. I stomp up the steps, and he finally stops in front of me. “Sarah left me,” he says, and I still. “A few weeks ago,” he adds. “I finally told Ruby, and she didn’t take it well.”

I frown. “Why did she leave?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“He was having an affair,” snaps Ruby from the doorway, and we both turn to face her. “I know everything. Sarah told me.”

I swallow the huge lump that’s forming in my throat. “Let’s go inside and talk.”

“So you can tell me more lies?”

“We were protecting you,” I begin, and she spins on her heel and heads back in. We follow, and for the first time, I feel like Father and I are a team.

She sits on the couch as Father goes to the window, keeping his back to us. I lower into the leather armchair. “I was too young,” I begin.

“Bullshit,” she hisses.

“Language,” I remind her.

“Really?” she screams, taking me by surprise. “You hide this from me and you want me to watch my language? How about this . . . slag . . . fucking liar . . . dirty lying bitch.”

“Stop,” Father bellows, and I will her to before he slaps her. I remember how bad those hurt. He moves towards her, and I stand, ready to stop him. He eyes me before smirking. “She needs to know the sacrifices we made for her.”

“I never asked you to,” she yells.

He shoves me out the way, and I fall back into the chair. I watch as he grabs her arm and hauls her closer so they’re practically nose-to-nose. “I gave you a decent life with parents who could raise you. She wasn’t fit to,” he spits, pointing in my direction but not moving his eyes from hers. “Sarah was a good mother.”

“When she wasn’t sleeping off her pills,” Ruby yells.

“Maybe we should talk,” I cut in, “just me and Ruby.”

“Sister to sister,” she hisses sarcastically.

My father pushes her to sit again and storms from the room. “You shouldn’t antagonise him,” I whisper.

“I’m not scared of him.”

“Ruby, I didn’t lie to hurt you. My life back then wasn’t great.”

“Why,” she demands, “because he told you it wasn’t?”

I shrug, biting my lower lip to stop the tears. “I was too young and too naïve. Your father,” I take a breath, “well, he wasn’t a good person, and I was heartbroken and not thinking straight. Our father . . . I mean, my father, offered to raise you with Sarah. It was the only way I could keep you in my life.”

“You’ve lied to me my whole life,” she whispers, her eyes full of pain.

I give a nod. “I’m not proud, but how could I tell you? Once it was decided, it was out of my hands.” I allow the tears to slip down my cheeks. “I just knew I needed to keep you in my life, and this was the only way.”

“I want to meet him,” she announces. “My real father.”

I begin to shake my head. “It’s not a good idea. I don’t even know where he is,” I lie.

Her eyes narrow and guilt eats away at me some more. “No more lies,” she whispers. “Please.”

My heart twists painfully in my chest. “He’s doesn’t know about you,” I admit.

A small sob escapes, and she sits up straighter. “Then you’d better tell him.”

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