Page 108 of More, Daddy
“You work. Why don’t you pay the water bill?” I fold my arms over my chest. I didn’t want to come here. But I didn’t want West to see me dropped off at his house by his friend after we fought.
I’d planned on coming here, grabbing my bike, and riding over to his place to sort this whole mess out. Talking to Dolly gave me a new perspective, one of staying and solving instead of one of reacting and running.
“I don’t have it right now, Briar.” He reaches for the fridge door, but I move, and stand in front of it.
“You have beer money but not money to keep water on, to keep lights on, or to keep a roof over your head. Do you realize how stupid that sounds?”
Dad straightens, and his eyes narrow. He sucks in a breath, inhaling to stand taller, setting his shoulder back,readying himself for a fight. I’ve seen him take this stance many times over the years. The only card he knows how to play is fear. Raising his voice. Slamming his fists.
Today, after everything I’ve been through, I’m too exhausted to cower. In fact, I’m completely over it.
I take a step toward him, and his work boots nearly brush my sneakers. His sour breath heats my nostrils. “I’m sorry that you hate your life, and that I’m part of that. It must be awful living in a home you hate with a person you dislike. I’m sorry that your existence is so miserable.” I search his eyes for a sliver of the father that existed when my mother was alive, but maybe he died with her.
“I’m sorry you lost your wife, and the life you thought you were going to have. I really am. But I don’t deserve this life. I deserve more. When I leave here today, I’m not coming back. That means if you want to stay here, you have to pay the bills.” I move out of the way, and surprisingly, he lets me and he doesn't move for another beer either.
On the counter, I pick up the stack of envelopes from under the old, chipped porcelain goose cookie jar. “Here they are.” I lift his keys from the counter, and take the mail key off, setting it on the countertop. “This is for the mail. I’m putting it here as a reminder to you that you have to check the mail. If you don’t, it will pile up and they’ll charge you to pick it up, so make sure to check it.”
He just watches me, saying nothing. I grab my bike from the garage, and roll it through the house. Normally he’d gripe about that, but for once, it’s like he knows how serious I am, realizing that none of this is an empty threat.
“If you need me for any reason, my cell phone number is in your phone,” I remind him, because at this point, I don’t know if he even remembers he has it, it’s been so long since he used it.
I grab the screen door, and with one foot outside, he calls out to me. “Briar, wait.”
I hold the screen in my hand, and keep the other door open with my foot. I don’t turn around, because I waited for him so long. Left out plates for dinner. Wrote notes. Got a tree. Bought him gifts. Remembered his birthday. I did it all. And even turning around in a doorframe feels like farther than I plan on going, ever again.
“I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t say anything else. There is no explanation. No list of things he’s sorry for, just “I’m sorry” followed by silence. I stand there, staring at the paint peeling off the doorframe, at the weeds sprouted in the yard. The sun shines down on my bicycle, and a bird lands on the handle bars for a moment before flying away.
“You should go. You’re right about what you said. You deserve better,” Dad says, and despite the volume of his voice, his words are soft, the sentiment delicate, delivered with caution.
Emotion cramps my side and clogs my throat. I don’t know what to say, but it feels like we’re as peaceful as we can be, and sometimes that's the best two people can hope for. I move down the steps and get onto my bike, and don’t look back as I pedal to West’s house.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
“I knowit’s a long shot but… have you by chance heard from Briar?” I ask Riley.
She pops her gum, making me pull the phone away from my ear for a second.
“Is that West? Why’s he calling you instead of me? West? West!” Jake shouts in the background, and a moment later, he’s on the line. “Why you callin’ my old lady, Dupont?” he teases. He’s got a point in being surprised—when I’m picking up lunch on campus, I call Jake for Riley’s order before I call her. This is a rare call I’m making, andhe knows it.
In the background, Riley yells to him, “You’re the old one, not me!”
Their happy banter can warm my heart another time, when I’m not upside down in my own fears. Ignoring them, I ask, “I know it’s a long shot but did Briar call Riley this afternoon?”
“What do you mean? Like… after we had lunch together?” Jake asks, clearly confused. Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose and continue the fatiguing pacing of my kitchen.
“We got into an argument and—” my other line beeps, and I glance at my phone to see Hudson Gray calling. “Jake, I’ll call you back.”
“Riley,” he says. “You’ll call Riley back.”
“Yeah, I’ll call her back,” I say, then immediately click over to the other line. “Hey, Hudson.”
“I saw you called,” he says, adding, “And I got a pretty good idea why.”
A knot of unease forms in my throat, but I trudge on. “Yeah? That right?”
