Page 45 of The Lies I've Told
“I think I’m gonna make sure I have everything I need for the car. Would you mind packing me some food to go?”
I couldn’t even look at her. What if she could see it in my eyes, sense it in my demeanor?
“Um, sure,” she said. “But are you okay?”
I nodded, already fleeing the kitchen.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
I was definitely not fine.
We made it through the long two-and-a-half-hour ferry ride to North Carolina with little to no conversation.
It was brutal, but I didn’t know what to say.
How did I talk to a woman I’d confessed my soul to just days earlier and act like none of it had happened? Besides James, she was the only one who knew about my diagnosis.
But she didn’t remember.
Honestly, it was probably better this way.
The moment the car engine flared to life, and we were given the signal to disembark the boat, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. At least I’d have something new to stare at instead of the minivan full of kids currently parked in front of us. Although, the tiny screens in the seats, displaying the movieFrozenhad helped pass the time, even if it was slightly excruciating.
“Do you need to stop?” Millie asked, her voice such a stark contrast to the deafening silence that had been ringing in my ears for so long that I nearly jumped.
“What? Oh, um, sure. Might be nice to stretch my legs or grab a spot of coffee.”
She didn’t reply but merely pulled off at the first gas station we came upon. “I’ll fill up while you run in,” she said.
The gentleman in me wanted to offer to do so for her, but the tone in her voice was clear; she didn’t need it. So, I simply nodded and made my way into the convenience store. The door dinged as I entered and I gave a polite nod to the cashier. There were a few others inside, mostly waiting in line to pay for gas or purchase items for the road. I recognized the father from the minivan that had been parked in front of us, dragging one of his kids through the aisle. She was in tears, a wet spot down the front of her pants as tears fell from her eyes.
“There was a restroom on the ferry. I asked you a dozen times if you needed to go!”
She sniffled, her voice small and meek. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t know I had to go until just now.”
The dad stopped mid-aisle, between the chips and crackers, as I stood frozen, unable to look away.
“How can you not know, Olivia? You are seven years old. Your four-year-old sister knows how to piss in the bathroom. Why can’t you fucking figure it out?”
With every word he spoke, his grip on her tightened, and her eyes grew wide. Panic filled the little girl’s features as if she seemed to know what was coming.
It was a scene I recognized all too well.
“Let her go,” I said between clenched teeth.
The father looked up, shock written across his idiotic face. “What did you say to me?”
“I said, let her go. You’re obviously scaring her, and you’ve made your point.”
He straightened to his full height, the little girl scrambling back behind him as he sized me up. I was about six inches taller than him and had about fifty pounds of lean muscle to his very impressive beer gut.
“This ain’t any of your business.”
“When you decide to manhandle your child in the middle of a convenience store, you make it my business.”
His eyes narrowed in on mine before he seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. “Come on, Olivia, let’s go.”
He brushed past me, a last attempt at one-upping the chump who tried to keep him from backhanding his kid in a public place. Grabbing the first bag of crackers within arm’s reach, I turned toward the counter and found Millie standing in front of me, her gaze warm and steady.
