Page 5 of Among the Sins of my Father

“Do you want to sit with me?” Hope asks.

Again, Ette shakes her head. “I want to sit with Berkley. She’s my best friend.”

Hope swallows back the hurt as Ette waltzes over and plops herself beside me, blinking innocently at her mother without an ounce of guilt. She doesn’t understand. All she knows is that her mother was missing and now she’s found. She can’t comprehend the nightmare Hope went through before she got here.

The door barges open and a whirlwind of motion flies through the door and throws itself at Hope. There’s a wail and a gush of air as Hope scrambles away, dropping to the ground and crawling under the table.

“I’m so sorry,” Gideon says as he realizes his mistake. “I was just so happy…” His voice fades as he takes in the cowering Hope under the table. She’s breathing deeply, rocking back and forth as she hugs her knees to her chest.

“For fuck’s sake, Gideon! What were you thinking?” Jericho hisses, his head ducking beneath the table to check on Hope.

Gideon runs his hands through his hair, desperation making his eyes wide. “I didn’t think. I wasn’t thinking. I was just—” He crouches down. “I’m so sorry, Hope.”

Hope takes in deep breaths, trying to calm herself before crawling out from under the table. “Don’t be sorry.” She opens her arms, allowing Gideon to walk into them. “I’m just a little messed up,” she whispers in his ear. “My god, it’s good to see you.”

Gideon squeezes her tight, then loosens his grip, concern wrinkling his angelic face.

Hope laughs. “It’s okay. I’m not going to break or anything. I just got a fright before. It’s going to take a while for me to adjust.”

The staff come and take their seats at the table, each carrying a dish which we help ourselves from, instead of being served by Mrs Bellamy. Hope asks Ette about her schooling but in her typical child-like way, she doesn’t want to talk about it, instead regaling her mother with recounting the various dance steps she’s learned over the past few months.

Hope’s gaze flicks to me curiously. You can tell it’s hard for her to hear Ette talk about another person with such affection when she’s been denied the chance of knowing her for years.

Each mouthful of dinner tastes like dirt. I keep chewing and chewing but no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to swallow. My mouth is dry so I take sips of water but nothing seems to help. Everyone talks around me but their voices are muted and I can’t focus on any of them.

I push my chair away from the table. No one looks my way. I clear my throat. “I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to excuse myself.” I offer a pathetic smile. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

I keep my eyes down as I leave the room. It’s not until I reach the door that I hear Jericho call after me. “Berkley, wait,” he says.

I pretend I don’t hear and let the door swing shut. He catches me just as I’m at the base of the staircase.

“Berkley,” he says, his voice sharper than it was before. He knows I ignored him.

I stop and wait, but every part of me wants to race up the stairs and lock myself in my bedroom. For some reason, facing him hurts. It reminds me of all I’m about to lose.

He reaches for my hand, but I take a step upward, putting more distance between us. His eyes narrow, but he chooses to ignore it.

“We did it,” he says, not being able to help the broad smile that stretches over his face.

“We did,” I repeat, attempting to mimic his enthusiasm, but I can’t. I chide myself for my inability to let him enjoy the moment. It’s selfish. He’s so happy about Hope’s return. As am I. But something feels different now. I feel out of place. I don’t belong here anymore and Hope’s return has made that clear.

Jericho moves up to the first step, our heights aligning. “Ette has her mother back and it’s all because of you.” Grabbing my shoulders he crushes me against his chest. I hesitate, but only for a moment. Being here, secure against him, every sense drowning in him reminds me of every reason I want him. And it hurts. But sometimes I like to feel pain so I wrap my arms around him, clinging to him tightly as though it’s the last time. Because that’s how I feel.

Like this is it. This is the end.

I can’t help the tears that well. I dig my fingers into his shirt, bunching the material. I don’t want to let him go but he doesn’t feel like mine anymore.

He’s hers.

Then the door swings open and Jericho drops his arms, stepping back and putting distance between us as Hope looks on with an accusation in her eyes.

“Hope,” Jericho says, his voice breaking a little as though he’s ashamed.

A small frown presses between Hope’s brows. “Are you—”

“Hope!” Ette calls, running over to her mother. “You need to come watch me dance.” Ette looks up at me. “Can we show her our dance, Berkley? Can we?”

“You’re the dance tutor?” There’s a coldness to Hope’s voice. Or maybe it’s relief. Whatever it is, it’s clear she feels as uncertain about me as I do her.

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