Page 157 of Not Another Yesterday
When he finally hangs up, he pockets his phone and looks at me. “Penny says hi.”
“Okay,” I say. “How is she doing?”
“She’s good,” he chuckles. “Wasn’t thrilled about me being gone tonight. She still gets overwhelmed being alone with both boys. It’s a lot, especially now that they’re both rolling around like little maniacs. One of them is always trying to off himself.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. Dean’s the main culprit. Kellan’s more relaxed, but Dean? Total second-born energy.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “The other day he somehow army-crawled under the armchair and couldn’t get back out. Penny was freaking out because she couldn’t find him—called me in a full panic. Eventually Dean started whining and she found him wedged under there like a grumpy little burrito.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Honestly, Dean reminds me so much of you. You think you’ve got it figured out with your first kid—nice, mellow, follows the rules. And then the second one comes along and he’s just… absolutely feral.”
“Iwas feral?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Hell yes. You were a menace. Constant energy. You climbed before you could walk, and, shit, you were on top of everything. Chairs, ladders, the banister. You tried to ride a bull calf when you were, like, eighteen months old. Morai said Athair had to rescue you more than once from near-death situations.”
“I havezeromemory of that,” I say, shaking my head.
“You were tiny, man. And you never slept. Up till all hours, then awake again at five or six.”
“Huh. I guess not much has changed,” I say, half to myself. Cat literally mentioned that just yesterday—how I seem to function on less sleep than humanly possible.
“Apparently not. I know Morai always brought you downstairs with her once they got up at three-thirty. You’d just hang out with her,”he chuckles. “But yeah, I see a lot of you in Dean. And I see a lot of Stevie in Kellan. I just wish I had shown up for you and your brother like I get the chance to show up for Kellan and Dean now.”
“Yeah,” I say flatly.
“Ran, I—” he starts, but the waitress shows up with our food, placing steaming plates in front of us.
I take the out and push back from the booth. “Gonna hit the bathroom real quick,” I mutter before walking off. I’m not ready to go there with him. Not now.
When I return, my dad gives me a cautious glance as I slide back into the booth.
“So… how’ve you been doing, kiddo?” he asks. “You’re really busy these days.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m trying to knock out some classes now so I’ll have more flexibility in the spring. I want to be around to help Cat as much as I can.”
“And you’re working a ton, too.” He watches me closely, his face serious. “Don’t forget to rest, Ran.”
“I don’t really have a choice, Dad,” I say. “I’m just doing what I need to do to make sure Cat and the baby are taken care of.”
He smiles at me, something soft in his expression. “I’m proud of you.”
That catches me off guard.
“For what?” I ask, my brows drawing together. “Following in your footsteps and procreating before I hit twenty?” I ask, sarcasm sharpening my words.
He laughs. “For the kind of man you’re becoming, Ran. I know you don’t see it, but… you had all the odds stacked against you. And still, at barely nineteen, you’re more mature, more responsible, more considerate than I was even in my thirties.” He chuckles a little, though there's something heavy behind it. “I should’ve been more like you when you and Stevie were born. I shouldn’t have left.”
My shoulders tighten. I can tell he’s hoping this trip will open some kind of door between us, give us a chance to really talk. To connect. The truth is, my dad and I have never spent this much time alone together. Ever.
And despite everything I’ve worked on with Dr. Seivert… despite how much I want to let go of all the resentment… I still can’t seem to let him in. I feel myself resisting every time he tries to reach for me. And it’s not even about what he’s saying now. It’s not about what he’s doing. It’s about everything he didn’t do before.
“Dad, can we not do this right now?” I say, voice quiet but tense. My brow furrows. And as soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel guilty. “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t—”
I don’t know how to talk to you. I don’t know how to not feel this way. I don’t know how to let this go. I don’t know how to move on from my feelings of being abandoned by you.
