Page 7 of The Depraved Prince
“What’s going on? Did you call for me?”
Dad.
“Dad! You scared me. I-I did call you like ten minutes ago!” I exaggerate.
“Todo bien, hija? Can I come in?” He twists the knob but doesn’t enter.
“Yes, come in.”
He opens the door and pokes his head through. His dark hair is peppered with grey strands, and his dark brown wary eyes are pinned on me before they dart everywhere else in the room like he’s checking if I snuck any boyfriends in behind his back.
“Everything is fine, Dad. I just…I guess I watch and read too many scary movies and thriller books. That’s all. I’m good. I thought I saw something outside, but it’s all good now.” I scoff out a laugh and bring the blankets up to my chin as I try to find a comfortable spot.
He places his hands on his hips and leans forward like his lower back hurts. He walks to the curtains and watches the empty street for about thirty seconds before he turns to me.
I know my dad. His silence means he’s trying to get something out. He’s holding something in by the way he looks side to side, avoiding my gaze.
“Spit it out,” I sing-song.
He chuckles with no humor attached to his tone.
“You know…I’ll never stop apologizing for leaving you and your brother.” He grips the edge of my bed and finally meets my eyes. I inherited the same brown eyes and dark hair from him.
“Dad…”
“I mean it. I was a teenager when I had Nash, and then you came along at a time when I was already drowning. Drowning in my own demons. My financial problems and instability. Your mother and I were best friends who were never supposed to get married. But that doesn’t mean I regret having you guys. I hope you can understand and differentiate those two things.”
I give him a soft smile as he leans on my bedframe.
“I do, dad. I know you’re sorry. I can feel it in the way you always make sure I get home safe or when you try to invite me onthose fishing trips to Lake Rockington. Even in the way you look at me, I can feel the guilt that haunts you. I’m just grateful I still have you and thatyou’re trying.Trying means everythingto Nash and me.We acknowledge you’re making an effort to right your wrongs and doing things to better our relationship between my brother and me. It won’t erase the trauma we endured, but…it’s a step I will never take for granted.”
He swallows my words. I have no idea how I was able to say those things without breaking, but I’m glad I did. The pain and memories of growing up, having fights with my mother, or when I wished my parents would come together and give each other a second chance…all hit me briefly. It stabs me in the chest as we hold each other with our silence.
He feels the weight of his actions and the consequences of not being a parent to us when we needed him badly.
“I won’t let you punish yourself forever, Dad. We have a fresh start, so let’s not move backward, okay?” I tell him, trying to lighten the mood.
He gives me a nod, with relief glimmering in his tired eyes. He walks away from me and closes the door. I stay staring at the door a little longer before a wave of exhaustion hits every nerve in my body. I get comfortable in bed, forgetting about the strange man on the street, and think about my parents as teenagers, laughing and holding each other. Something I always dreamed of witnessing as a child but never got. Now, as an adult, it doesn’t give me the same feeling. It’s weird to think of them that way together. I fall asleep in the hope that one day, I’ll find a relationship that teaches me all the things my parents could not. With someone or alone, I’m determined to find something unconditional.
“I swearI saw that same blonde guy at our shop last night outside my window. It was weird and scary.” I take a sip of my water bottle and watch Leah’s reaction. I told her what had happened when I went home.
We sit across from each other, eating lunch in the break room. It’s small but fits about five people, with a mid-sized table and a light green room decorated with 1980s horror movie posters on the walls.
Leah’s eyes widen. “Dude, are you serious? Did you call the police?” She asks, looking down at her salad. She pokes at the avocado and chicken before eating it.
“What were they going to do? He ended up leaving so quickly anyway; in a blink of an eye, he disappeared. I think my dog scared him off.” I grab a piece of leftover barbecue my dad made me. He turned the brisket into a sandwich.
“Damn. You didn’t even give him my number? What kind of wing woman are you?” Leah giggles.
I roll my eyes.
“So you have a thing for creepy stalker guys?” I tease.
“No!” she bites out, but then she ponders and looks away, ashamed. “I mean, in the book world or movie world,maybe. Maybe I kind of like the idea of someone being obsessed with me…what about you?”
I stop chewing and actually think about it.
Huh.
