Page 14 of Bending Under Pressure

“Okay. Oh! I also forgot to tell you that I’m going to Dad’s tomorrow to spend the night.”

The frown deepens on Mom’s face. “What?”

“I’m driving down to Dad’s tomorrow to spend the night,” I repeat.

“You’re waiting until now to say something? Does he know you’re coming?”

“Of course he does,” I lie. He still hasn’t called me back from yesterday, and I’ve crossing my fingers he’ll be home tomorrow and without plans this weekend.

“I don’t know, Haley.”

Seriously? “Are you saying I can’t go see my father?” I ask, trying to hold in my temper.

“No, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“What? Why wouldn’t it be? He’s my dad! I miss him. Just because you left him doesn’t mean I did.” I storm past her and to my room. The familiar irritation at not knowing who left who bubbles up within me. Maybe Dad will give me some answers tomorrow.

I’d packed while I was waiting on Jess to come, so all I had to do was take off first thing in the morning. I change, plug in my phone, and climb into bed just as I get a text.

Keelan: I’m happy I got to see you & that you came to the game. Have fun?

Me: I did.

My thumbs hover over the keyboard before I continue the text.

Me: I may have worn the VT shirt just for you. :P

Keelan: The only time VT looks good is when you’re wearing one of their shirts.

My smile instantly appears. Another text comes in before I can reply.

Keelan: What are you doing tomorrow?

Me: Visiting my dad. I’ll be back Sunday. You?

Keelan: Hoping to hang out with you. Maybe Sunday?

Me: Sunday works. :) Night, Keelan.

Keelan: Sweet dreams, Hales.

My stomach has been tied in knots the entire drive to my dad’s. Mom still wasn’t happy when I left this morning, but I don’t care. I’m tired of Dad brushing me off. He promised

he would always be there and he hasn’t been. I need answers. I just hope he’ll be happy to see me. I try not to remember he’d said he wanted me to stay with my mom; and he ignores or bails on me all the time.

Relief fills me when I see his car in the driveway. It’s odd that it’s not in the garage though. I leave my overnight bag in the car, just in case things don’t go well. It’s times like these when I wish I still had a key. Dad changed the locks after we moved out and keeps forgetting to give me one. It feels so weird to knock on my own door. It feels weird that Dad still lives here. Is he trying to hold on to memories of what our family once was?

“Hello.” A girl about ten years old answers the door.

I glance over my shoulder and confirm that my dad’s car is in the driveway.

“Who are you?” she asks.

“Who are you?”

“Carly,” she answers just as my dad and another woman round the corner.

“Oh, God,” I whisper. His face pales at the sight of me. This is why he’s been avoiding me. He’s moved on with a new family. He left me behind for someone new.

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