Page 74 of Ebbing Tides
What a worthless life this has been.
Know that it is the sweetest relief for it to finally be over.
Margaret
***
My hands trembled furiously as the letter fluttered from my fingers to the floor at my feet. Ragged, stuttered breaths whispered past my lips, and my eyes, wide and unblinking, filled with hot tears.
Ahead of me, my father slept, his oxygen machine aiding his lungs to empty and expand. Sustaining his undeserved existence.
The edges of my vision blackened, and an unnerving sensation of calm shrouded over me. I was losing consciousness, passing out. The shock, the horror, the reality of my mother, Margaret Tailor, never truly being my biological mother wastoo much, far too much for my heart, my mind, my body to comprehend.
No!I slapped myself, and a sob gasped from my lips as I shook my head and stared ahead at the true villain of my story. That man, that evil man who'd led me to believe that the life I endured beneath his roof was the only life I could've known. But there was another woman out there, another woman who … God, could I have been hers? Why hadn't I been?
Did she not want me?
I clapped a hand over my mouth as an unhindered wave of tears poured over my cheeks and into my beard.
“The hell is wrong with you?”
A staggered breath fell from my mouth as I stared ahead at my father, now awake, and in a rush, I pushed myself to grab that letter from off the floor, stood on unsteady legs, and barreled toward his bedside.
“What is this, Dad?” I demanded, shaking the pages in his face. “What the hell is this?!”
His face took on an expression of terror as he shook his head. “Wha … I don't … I don't know—”
“Oh my God, you piece of shit, tell me the fucking truth for once in your miserable life!”
He trembled in his bed as he aimed his gaze at the letter in my hand. Confusion blanketed his face. “I-I don't … I don't know …”
A rush of unnerving calm fell over me as I stood back. Reason grabbed hold. Of course he didn't know what it was. He never opened the letter. He never knew what she'd written.
“Mom's suicide note,” I informed him in a cool monotone, standing tall and looming over his withered body.
She's not your mom, a voice in my head reminded me, and I grimaced.You never knewyourmom. It'shisblood in your veins. Onlyhis.
Dad's brow crumpled, his face twisting with rage and disgust. “You … you went through my things. Y-you had no right—”
“What rights do I have,exactly?” I interjected, my voice like a whip, cracking through his feeble attempt to scold me. “You didn’t think I had the right to know about my mother?”
“You don’t know—”
“When the fuck were you going to tell me about my mother? When the fuck were you going to tell me that Lucy and Grace aren’t …” Emotion threatened to strangle me, and I swallowed against the torrent of new tears before they had the chance to soak my face. “That they aren't …”
I couldn't get the words out as I turned to look away, to stare at the door. On the other side, Lido whined and scratched, more frantic than before.
Oh God, I thought.They’re not my sisters. Not fully. Oh my God.
“Your mother was a sick, sad woman,” Dad croaked weakly. “You knew that. She—”
“She said a woman … yourwhore… dropped a baby off at the door,” I muttered through clenched teeth, shoving aside all thoughts of Lucy and Grace. “Tell me that baby was me, Dad.Tell me the fucking truth!”
Silence fell over the universe with the snap of my voice. Even Lido startled at the sound, but his presence was felt, remaining on the other side of the door.
Dad's hand reached down to grapple with the blanket at his waist. A groan tore through his lips, and in a frustrated tone, he said, “I think … I think I might have soil—”
“I don't fucking care,” I spit out, swinging my gaze to his as I emphasized every word. “You're going to sit in your fucking shit until you tell me the goddamn truth.”
