Page 47 of Full Tilt
It must’ve been five minutes before either of us spoke again, even though our thoughts were louder than the noise in the hockey arena.
“You’ll never stop wondering—you know that, don’t you?” Jackson broke the silence.
The shrug I gave him was indifferent. I was trying not to let it show that this whole conversation had bothered me.
“Whatever,” I breathed out, grabbing my can of Coke and taking another large gulp. “If he is my dad, then he clearly doesn’t give a damn about finding me, so why should I?”
The memoryof that afternoon with my former best friend, Jackson, had never been so vivid as it played out in my dream.
Lying in bed for way longer than usual—since at this time in the morning, I’d normally be in my home gym—I couldn’t help but wonder where Jackson was now. I heard he had taken a job as a PE teacher since he had always been sports crazy. He was a good friend that I had until I turned eighteen and left for college, and after that, we lost touch.
I grew apart from a lot of people back in my hometown in Minneapolis. No one else from my team was drafted into the league, and all my teammates either quit hockey and eventually settled down with families or fell off the face of the earth entirely.
Rolling my lips together, I internally smirk at thoughts of where my dad is today. Shortly after I confronted him, he went totally dark himself. I don’t know how much of that was to do with me, and honestly, I wish I could say I didn’t care.
They say that losing a parent is the worst thing that can happen to a kid, and I don’t doubt it is. Losing a parent when they’re still walking this earth though? Now, that’s a whole new level of pain. The fact that they know their own flesh and blood is out there but don’t care enough to make an effort cuts like a blunt knife, no matter which way you try and spin the reality of their rejection. Or how you try and justify that their absence is for the best.
I don’t buy into that kind of bullshit—the school of thought that dictates that you’re better off without toxicity in your life, no matter who they are to you.
The only way a person is better off is when they get the chance to avenge the wrongdoing. I saw my dad for who he really was that day—a heartless prick who didn’t care about anyone but himself. Yet it was me who still got rejected. It was me who got the apartment door slammed in my face when he got bored of our conversation and kicked me out onto the Brooklyn streets.
Truthfully, I shouldn’t care where he is right now or what gutter he’s probably lying in. But I do. Because all I want is another thirty minutes in his company. A half hour where the roles are reversed and he’s the one sitting on the end ofmycouch, inmyfancy fucking apartment, listening tomelecture and castigate, making him feel like the worthless piece of shit he really is.
Voicing the thoughts I should’ve said when I was seventeen would make me feel a whole lot better. Having the chance to reject his love would purge our poisonous relationship from my veins forever.
When my phone receives a text, I reach over and pick it up, half expecting it to be from Mom. Her attempts to contact me usually increase around my birthday, and as I turn twenty-four today, she’ll no doubt send me the usual blanket message.
Hellion
My car smells of wet dog this morning, and given that I don’t have a pet, I can only conclude it’s the stench you left behind the other day.
This is way better than a generic birthday message.
Me
How do you have my number, Jenna?
Hellion
It was detailed on the order receipt for my leggings.
Satisfaction curls inside me. She wants me again.
Me
That’s stalkerish behavior.
Hellion
So, I’ll assume you went ahead and deleted my number, like I’d asked you to?
Me
Of course not. I hate it when girls play hard to get. Especially when they don’t mean it. You wanted me to keep your number, and you know it.
I can see it now: you lying in bed each night, holding your phone as you will it to ring with a booty call from yours truly.
As I roll out of bed and head toward my en suite, I chuckle at my last text, knowing it will rile the shit out of her.
