Page 2 of Full Tilt
“Did the doorman tell you who I was?” I ask, probing for more information.
Putting a bullet straight between the store owner’s eyes, Alex flicks his stony gaze to mine. “That’s literally the point of his job, Tommy. I don’t allow nameless people up to this apartment. I get enough with the desperate puck bunnies trying to sneak in at all hours.”
“Did you just kick that blonde girl out of your apartment?” I know that my question sounds like an accusation, and the second it leaves my mouth, I realize the monumental mistake I just made.
Hitting pause on the game, Alex tosses the controller onto the glass coffee table with a clatter.
Arms folded across his chest, he sits back on the couch and narrows his eyes in my direction, leaving me in no doubt over his thoughts.
He hates me.
“Tell me something, Tommy.”
My stomach roils at the cutting edge in his voice.
“Did your mom send you here? Did she run out of money, or is she freaking out that the child support payments will stop in a couple of months when you turn eighteen?”
I might as well be the fictional store owner with a gaping hole in my head.
“What?” I croak out, my suspicions finally confirmed. “No … I caught a flight here from Minneapolis. I wanted to meet you since you’re?—”
“Since I’m what?” He laughs darkly, downing the rest of his Bud and rolling the empty bottle between his palms on a smirk. “Since I’m your dad? And you thought you could just show up at my place and all would play out like some fucking fairy tale? I don’t do family. I told your mom that enough times.”
I’d reply if I wasn’t stunned into silence by his brutality.
“Last I heard from Helen Williams, she told me she’d spun some bullshit about how your dad died in service out in Afghanistan. Apparently, you’ve been asking questions about who your real dad is for years.” He pushes his head back into the couch and laughs toward the ceiling. “The way she wanted to get married and live happily ever after when she found out she was pregnant. Naive little girl. As if I wanted to settle down at twenty. My hockey career was just getting started. I never wanted kids, and nothing has changed.”
Bile rises up my throat as reality sinks deep within my bones. I’m getting the answers I came for, just not the ending I convinced myself wasn’t required. I was determined I didn’t need a father figure in my life. I’d come this far without him, and I could live the rest of my life in his absence. All I thought I wanted was answers.
Faith has a funny way of fooling you, persuading you it isn’t there while it waits in the wings for the crushing truth to take ahold of your hopes. Pushing you to spend your last dime and board a three-hour flight, believing you’ll be met with your father’s open arms.
Alex is staring at me as I lift my head and look at him, blinking twice to rid the wetness as it coats my vision.
“Your mom told you that story because I made it really fucking clear I wanted nothing to do with the baby. After sheproved you were mine with a paternity test, she agreed to sign an NDA in exchange for above-mandatory child support payments.” His laugh is dark. “I bet she’s freaking out right now, worrying I’ll come after her for breaking our agreement.”
He drops his eyes to my sneakers, disgust screwing up his face. “I’ve no fucking idea where that money went, but it sure as shit wasn’t on your wardrobe. Maybe it was on your budding hockey career.”
Rolling his lips together, he attempts to suppress his obvious amusement. “I hope you aren’t expecting to get drafted. I’ve seen you play, and I find it hard to believe that you share my DNA, even if your mom proved it to me.”
He kicks his feet onto the table in front of him as his dark laughter reemerges. “That said, word is the Detroit Sting have eyes on you.” He scoffs. “They haven’t lifted the Cup since I can remember. If I wasn’t so embarrassed by those sneakers you’re wearing, I’d be fully cringing at the projection of your hockey career.”
Words stick in my esophagus. I’m desperate to tell him what a fucking prick I think he is and that I’m not surprised the Blades didn’t renew his contract. Although nothing materializes, and I remain silent, feeling smaller and smaller with every passing second.
Eventually, my “dad” rises from the couch and makes for the kitchen on the far side of the open plan space, pulling a single beer from the fridge and snapping off the cap.
“I would offer you one, but you’re still a baby.” He downs the beer and tosses the glass bottle into an open trash can, and it smashes into pieces.
Everything this guy does is barbaric.
Despite everything I’ve learned in the past ten minutes, I can’t deny what we share beyond our DNA.
The way he lives his life with such reckless abandon, the way he handles objects, his words, and people with such brutality. I can feel that deep in my gut—an anger that simmers just below the surface, threatening to spill over each time someone pisses me off. Or walks all over my feelings like it’s a crime to have them in the first place.
Maybe it is. Maybe that’s how you get ahead in life—not giving anyone an inch to prove that you’re not a fool who harbors faith in the first place.
The cold tiles seep through the soles of my sneakers as icy truths meander through my mind.If your own parents can lie to you and reject you so seamlessly, why should any other fucker treat you better?
The back pocket of my jeans vibrates again.
