Page 50 of Hidden Vows
Dad picks up the pile of mail from the counter near us but he doesn’t look at it. From the corner of my eye I see him study me. The silence between us is filled with tension, something that doesn’t typically exist around us.
“What’s going on, Abbey?” He puts the mail back down where he found it, his attention entirely focused on me.
If I ask him point blank if he threatened Jude, will he tell me the truth? Do I want to hear the truth from him?
I’ve been hiding out in his house for seven days now and I still don’t know the answer to either of those questions. I know I want the truth. I just don’t know if I can trust my father to give it to me. Even after all these years, he still hates the Murphys.
Rinsing my hands, I give myself another second before I shut the water off and turn to face him. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Jude lately.” If it’s even possible, his spine straightens even more. He opens his mouth to speak, but I don’t let him. “He’s been helping out at the bookstore and I’ve been keeping him company at the bar. It’s just…it’s brought up a lot of memories.”
I search his face, looking for any sign of guilt or pain, but all I see is anger. “I don’t know how you could let that man back into your life. Not after what he did to you.”
“People change.”
“Not him. Not that family,” he seethes.
“What is it about Walt and Jude that you don’t like? I’ve never understood your hatred of them.” I keep my tone even, wanting to make it clear I’m not accusing him of anything. It’s entirely possible there’s a valid reason he doesn’t like them, and I’m desperate to know.
“It’s not important. All that matters is that they aren’t goodpeople and you shouldn’t be involved with them.” He doesn’t wait for my response. Grabbing the handle of his suitcase, he storms out of the kitchen.
Two months ago I would’ve let him go. I would’ve finished cleaning up the mess I made and I would’ve gone home, ignoring my need to know the answers to my questions.
Now, though, I can’t let it go.
“I’m not a child anymore,” I say, marching after him. “I deserve to know why you think they’re bad people. Walt has never done anything but care for those around him. Even when I cut him out of my life after Jude left, he let me back into his life like no time had passed at all.”
This time there’s pain in his eyes, but I get the sense it’s not from his actions. No. I’m pretty sure it’s because of how I look up to Walt. I don’t have to say the words for my dad to know that Walt is like a second father to me. Walt’s filled the gaps my father chose to leave in his absence, and I can only hope he’s regretting that decision.
Hoping he feels some kind of guilt about missing out on my childhood makes it all that much harder to push for answers from him. But I can’t keep living in denial. I don’t want to lose my father from my life and I think if we have any hope of keeping a relationship alive, we have to get rid of the lies.
“It doesn’t matter, Abbey.” His tone is hard, one I used to hear all the time back in high school. One I haven’t heard since Jude left.
“It matters to me,” I whisper. “I need to know,” I beg.
He hesitates for only a moment. “Abbey. Let it go.”
My shoulders slump and my eyes fall closed. I give myself a moment to feel the disappointment, and then I try one more time. I open my eyes and meet his head one. “Dad, I’m telling you Ineed to know the truth. I need you to be honest with me. If there’s a valid reason for everything that’s happened, I’ll hear you, but I can’t go off your word alone anymore.”
Nothing about his body or face changes. He stands there just as stone faced as before.
“Dad,” I beg one more time, tears burning my eyes. “Why can’t you say whatever it is? If you’re worried about hurting me, you already are.”
His eyes harden and I know there’s nothing I can say or do to change his mind. “It won’t matter, Abbey. It never did for your mother and it never will for you.”
“Don’t tell me how I feel. You can’t know what I’ll do or say.”
“I can, because just like your mother, you love that boy more than anything else, and you will always choose him.”
He doesn’t wait for my response, and this time when he turns around I let him walk away.
—
September 1, 2023
Do you remember the day I left?
I wonder if you wish I stayed.
I don’t think you do, but I still wonder.
