Page 33 of The Keeper
“Hi dad,” I say, trying to muster up my confidence. “It’s RJ.”
“Rachel.” Even the way he says my name, with such disdain and hatred, causes my head to ache. “What the hell do you want?”
“I’m just calling you back. You know. Because you called earlier?”
There’s silence on his end. I’m unsure whether he has fallen asleep, or doesn’t remember why he called me, or if he just doesn’t know how to respond. I never call him back. He leaves nasty voicemails and I torture myself by listening to them. But I always muster up the strength to call on holidays and his birthday. Even then, he rarely answers. I haven’t actually spoken to him since Christmas.
“You mentioned coming to the game on Wednesday.” I’m fairly sure he’s forgotten, the memory just a blur in his whiskey-addled brain. “I just wanted to thank you, but you don’t have to come. I know it will take you a long time to get there on the bus, and I’m sure you have better things to do.”
I’m trying to make it seem like I’m looking out for his best interests. But I already know he’s going to find a way to turn this around on me.
“Listen up, you spoiled shit. I don’t need you doing me any favors. If I say I want to come to the game, I’m going to be there. And you can’t do anything about it.”
I try hard to keep my tone light, placating. “I know, dad. I know. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t putting yourself out.”
“Putting out is more your style, right Rachel? Always around all those boys, lettin’ ‘em slap your ass. You just couldn’t be a normal fucking daughter, could you? You don’t think I know you were lettin’ those boys fuck you?”
“Which one is it dad?” I grit out, my anger from the day suddenly boiling over, shocking me slightly. “Am I a whore who spreads her legs? Or a dyke who can’t keep a decent man?”
“Don’ttalk to me like that you worthless piece of shit. No wonder your mother abandoned you. I just wish she hadn’t left you with me, ruiningmylife too.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, as if that could block out his words. But of course it doesn’t work. “If you come to the game on Wednesday, stay thehellaway from me.”
I hang up the phone and use all of my self-control not to chuck it into the street. Then I rest my forehead on the steering wheel and cry.
* * * * *
Soft knocking wakes me from my place in front of the TV and when I glance at the clock on the wall, I see it’s after 11pm. I sit up on the couch and rub my face, unsure if the knock is coming from the show currently airing or the front door. After sitting still and listening for a minute, I hear another knock, this time a bit louder.
I wrap the soft blanket around my body and shuffle into the entryway, catching a view of my face in a mirror in the process. Bloodshot eyes, hair in a ratty bun at the top of my head. To say tonight was rough is the understatement of the century.
I pull the door open, and to say I’m shocked to see Mack standing outside is an understatement. I quickly try to backtrack and shut the door in his face, but his hand flies out to hold it open.
“I’m not in the mood, Mack, for whatever you’re selling.”
“You have to let me explain,” he says, his face an interesting combination of determined and pleading. “I know exactly what you thought when you saw me with Ronnie, but I promise you it isn’t what you think.”
“What I think doesn’t matter, Mack. You’re entitled to fuck who you want.” My words are short and clipped, betraying my internal conflict.
“Damn it, RJ,” he starts, letting out an exhausted breath.
“So now I’m RJ again? Funny, because just a few hours ago I was Rachel,” I tug the blanket tighter around me, slowly shaking my head as I look at him. “The only thing I’m sure of with you is that I’m definitely no Ronnie Kade.”
He rubs his hands on his face in frustration. “I need you to let me finish a sentence RJ. I know I didn’t provide you the same courtesy in my office this morning, and now I understand what that feels like. Will youpleaselet me explain?”
I assess him for a moment. His hair is mussed, as if he’s been running his hands through it too much. His eyes are tired, his suit wrinkled. I give him a stiff nod, but make no move from the doorway. He can say whatever he wants, but he isnotcoming in.
“You have five minutes. After that, whether you’re done or not, I’m going to bed.”
He wastes no time jumping right in. “Ronnie and I have known each other for a few years. But we arenottogether.” I roll my eyes. “Ronnie got back from New York on Saturday night and called me. She always wants to hook up when she gets back from an extended trip, and we made plans for tonight.”
My anger suddenly morphs into a dull ache in my chest, and my face falls.
“So our date on Saturday was, what? A cock-tease? Had it been over for more than five seconds before you immediately scheduled time to hook up with her? At least I finally understand where I fall on the bang-list.”
I tuck my face into the blanket and crouch to the ground. The reaction is juvenile and to be honest, a bit of an overreaction. But I feel like my emotions are a piece of twine stretching thin by too much weight. I’m at an emotional low after my dad did his best to obliterate my self-worth. Mack’s statement is just icing on the cake.
I immediately feel his hands on me, tugging on the blanket. When I finally let go and look into his eyes, I see him crouched next to me, one knee on the ground.
