Page 101 of Come Apart
"When did it feel like home? When you were fucking my father or when you attempted suicide in our bed?"
What can I say? I snapped.
Just a smidge.
She sighs. "It's not just where I tried. It's where I survived. And before that, we were happy. I was happy."
"When were we happy? Because most of what I remember is a crock of shit. Since you were fucking my father for, what, two years? Three?"
"Luke..."
I feel dizzy, like the air rushed out of my lungs all at once. Samantha wants this house. I knew she'd want it eventually. I promised it to her. I expected to give it away.
But that was before Alyssa. Before we kissed here, before we spent long, tired mornings here, before we started to make a life here.
"It's my house," I say.
"Can we not fight over it?"
"You didn't want it when you dumped me."
"Please." She's pleading. "I have enough to buy out your half and throw in a little extra for the interest. I don't want to go back to some sterile apartment complex."
"You can find another house. This is my home now. Mine and Alyssa's."
"Luke..."
"You don't even know if you'll work on the Westside. What if you get a job in Pasadena?" I lean against the wall to stay upright.
"It's always been mine," she says. "Edward wanted me to have it."
Really?
"Fuck you."
She immediately backtracks.
"Luke, I didn't mean it like that—"
"He was my father."
"I know."
"He was my father a long time before he was your boyfriend."
"I know."
"Do you fucking know? Because every time you bring him up you act like you're the only person who ever cared about him."
"Luke..."
I dig my fingers into the phone. "I dealt with him my whole fucking life. I don't care if you loved him. I don't care if he hurt you when he rejected you. He was my father."
"I didn't mean that."
She sounds genuinely contrite but I'm so over this.
"You think it's your house just because your boyfriend fronted the down payment?"
