I turned to him and laughed. “Oh, is that all I had to do, Dad? I just had to ask. Remember when I asked you not to hit me again? Remember when I was eleven and you didn’t say a word to me for three months? I begged you to talk to me, but you walked away and shut the door in my face. If I asked you not to hate me, nothing would’ve changed.”
“I told you I don’t hate you, West.”
“Yes, you do!” I gripped my hair with both hands and tried to control my shaky breaths. “You took the monsters in your own head and taught them to punish me instead. You created my demons and made me desperate for love. I’m fucking starving, but I can’t stop pushing everyone away because Ihave to. You fucked me up, Dad. And I can never forgive you for that.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
He looked so despondent as he stood there with his hands in his pockets. For the first time, he seemed small. Pathetic. Weak. And that gave me a sense of satisfaction I probably shouldn’t have felt, but I let myself enjoy it anyway.
“You’ve blamed me since it happened,” I went on. Now that the train was rolling, I was ready to spew a bunch of word vomit, if only to get it out before I blocked him for the rest of my life.
“I don’t blame you. I could never blame you for something like that. Never. You were so young.”
When he stepped closer, I moved back. He had the audacity to look hurt by it.
“All I wanted was for you to love me, Dad. Why can’t you love me?”
His eyes closed as he put a hand over his chest. “When I look at you, I see myself and that’s who I hate the most. Worse, sometimes I see your mother and… God, the shame I feel. None of it is your fault, but…”
“But it doesn’t change anything,” I finished for him.
“You don’t deserve to be punished for my failures. My biggest regret will always be trusting James with you guys. My second is breaking you.”
My eyes burned and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. He gripped my shoulders and even though I wanted to shove him back, I just couldn’t. When was the last time he’d touched me without it being a threat? Maybe this was a threat. It didn’t make me feel safe.
“She would’ve been so proud of you,” he said. “West, she’d be at every game, every practice, even. She loved football. She’d scream in the stands and she’d love you better. Better than I could.”
“She’d be disappointed in you.”
He dropped his hands and closed his eyes. “Yes, she would. You’re so much like her, you know. She was bright, always smiling.”
“Just stop.”
“No, you should know.”
“I don’t want to know. I don’t want anything from you, Dad. I don’t want you here or in my life.”
“I’m sorry.
“Stop fucking saying that!” I turned around, ready to walk away, then whirled on him again. “No, you know what’s worse? I do want you here. I want you to be my fucking dad, but you can’t. You can’t.”
I thought about what Sen said on the football field. It settled into my bones, making even more sense than before. He was smarter and more self-aware than me. I hadn’t realized it at the time and I’d thought that his words didn’t change anything, but now it felt like he was preparing me in case this sort of thing happened.
Meeting his eyes for the first time, I lifted my chin and shrugged. “It’s too late. I never got to know Mom. I didn’t have to; I know that she’d be angry. But you know what? She’d be more disappointed in what happened after. What you became. I think that ruined us both more than James ever did. So, no. It’s not good enough. I can’t forgive you, but I understand you. That’s all I have.”
Broken. That was what my Dad looked like now. All of the shit he’d projected onto me was finally attacking him and for the first time, he didn’t get to pawn it off. I’d carried his guilt and his pain for ten years. I was done.
I turned around, but his voice stopped me. “I wish it could be different, West.”
Without looking back, I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Yeah, me too, Dad.”
When I left him there, it didn’t feel as freeing as I’d hoped. It was the right thing for me; I knew that. I was pissed that it still hurt, though. I didn’t want to hurt anymore.
I guess you couldn’t heal everything. Not all things could be fixed. And maybe that was okay. We adapted and learned how to be happy, even if we were missing some pieces. Even if those pieces were carved out of us with a jagged knife.
The idea of losing more made me ache somewhere deep inside. I was letting go of my dad, or at least trying, but I couldn’t rid myself ofthe fear that came with putting myself in a position to feel like this again. I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life than be cut open over and over.
“I’ve got you, Willow. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you again. It’s me and you. No matter what happens, me and you.”