Page 72 of Losing the Rhythm

“That’s true,” I said.

He waited. He wanted more and expected it from me, but I was having too much trouble opening my mouth to say any of it. If I started talking about it, it felt like I was going to word vomit too much information.

“Cadence,” he said softly. “What is really going on?”

His genuine concern felt like he jabbed his hand into my chest, grabbed my heart, and squeezed hard enough to stop the flow of blood inside me.

My gaze went to the wall behind him. I had hung up some of the signed photos he had been able to collect, of famous people signing photos of me with them. We had truly loved music, not just performing or creating, but attending concerts, getting backstage tickets, and getting to know them even more. I never really knew how Dad was able to get them to later sign those photos. I never asked.

They became my focus as I dredged up the words I didn’t really want to say.

“Lindie beat the crap out of me one day. She had forgotten we were going to have a client come over, and they heard it all and called the cops. I went to the hospital, she went to jail. We were able to work it out to have her sent to the hospital instead.”

“Leaving you to live alone?”

“I’m emancipated. I obviously couldn’t be in the care of Lindie, and we had no one else. I didn’t want to go into the foster home. I’m too old for that. I just needed a year, and I have enough saved up to cover that plus more. And my job is consistent enough with work to ensure I probably don’t even have to touch my savings. So they let me get emancipated.”

“This is unbelievable,” he whispered.

I finally looked at him, at the horror in his eyes that were too much like my own.

“Living alone? You’re just a child.”

“Seventeen,” I said softly.

“What?” he frowned.

I blew out a breath, some of that fear now turning into that dark rage that scared me late at night. “I’m seventeen now. I’ll be eighteen in March. I’m not a child.”

“You are, Cadence. You really are. And this only solidifies why I want you to come live with me.”

Live with him? Now? After everything that has already happened? After having my hope completely destroyed. After screaming for the world to return him to me and yet he never came back. His words repeated itself over and over again in my head, an uncomfortable echo.

Here he was, offering the one thing I had wanted most in the world, and yet for some reason, it wasn’t enough.

“Cadence, you don’t have to act like an adult anymore. Come live with me. I miss my little girl and you’re just a child. You don’t have to shoulder any of this. You shouldn’t have to,” Dad said, not even aware of the tornado of emotions that was erupting inside of me.

The anger that had been building inside of me pulsed, and I gripped my knees, doing my best to keep it inside of me and not out there. Lashing out got nowhere. Lindie proved that. Over and over again she proved that. But Dad’s words got to me. They settled in deeply and mocked me. Just a child? When? How?

Before I could stop myself, I was already responding.

“Does a child have to make a living to make sure there’s food on the table? A roof over her head? Clothes to wear? Bills paid?”

Why weren’t you there to do that instead?

“Does a child have to meet with clients and talk about their wants and needs when she doesn’t get to talk to anyone about her own? Does a child have to wake up in the hospital, completely alone, with no support from anyone, and figure out on her own how to take care of her own beaten body?”

Why weren’t you there to help me?

“Or how to hire a lawyer to represent herself as she makes a case to not only protect her mother after said mother beat the shit out of her, but also so that she doesn’t have to be dumped in foster care.”

Why weren’t you around to claim me when I had no one?

“Does a child have to learn how to navigate the justice system, learning how to prove without a doubt that she’s more than capable of taking care of herself?”

I waited for you.

“I’m not a child, Dad. I haven’t gotten to have that luxury for a very long time.” I stood up, blinking back tears. “I was alone. Just me. What exactly are you here for? Because you are the last person who has the right to voice any kind of opinion. You weren’t there. You didn’t have to navigate Lindie’s moods and abuse. She never ever hit you. She adored you. Spoiled you. And you walked out at the first sign of things getting tough. And I never ever heard from you again.”

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