Page 4 of Leave Me Broken

2

Payson

Volleyball used to be my favorite part of the day; now it’s my least favorite because he ruined it with his stupid son. A son. He has a freaking child. Are you a dad? No. That’s what he said. He said no. I remember the look in his eyes as he lied right to my face.

The best part about finding out he has a son when he told me he didn’t is him kissing my ass at practice. I can do whatever I want and he doesn’t yell at me. I tested the theory last week when he told me to go run lines and I flat out said no. His jaw clenched and that vein that pops when he’s angry nearly blew but he didn’t say a word. The rest of the girls had a lot to say.

Everyone but Alyssa, surprisingly. I don’t know what her problem is. You’d think she’d be happy we are . . . over. Or whatever. I mean, I don’t even know if we were ever on—or if she even knew there was anything going on between us, but based on the glares I was getting at practice, yeah, she definitely knew. I don’t know why she would be pissed . . . and I don’t want to know. Yeah, right. What do I care if he was fucking around with her and me? I definitely care. He said they weren’t, but he also said he wasn’t a dad so obviously he’s just one big fucking liar and nothing he says can be trusted.

Music floods my ears before I even walk into Grandpa’s house. I want to smile but that pit in my stomach causes me to keep my blank face in place. Grandpa has been listening to Christian music even more than he used to since being home from the hospital.

Grandpa being home is much less stressful, for many reasons, but not having to see my mother or Fred again is a huge one. They went back to Carolina just before Grandpa was released. I had my aunt text me when they weren’t in his room to keep from bumping into them and it worked. I didn’t have to see them the entire time. It should upset me that my mother was in the same town as me and never reached out, but it doesn’t.

Without the rides from Ash—not for his lack of trying—and my newfound freedom from the ankle monitor, Grandpa has officially passed me the keys to my nana’s wagon. The independence is nice. Lonely, but nice.

I spent the time Grandpa was in the hospital at Janelle’s because it freaked me out being here alone. The thought of anyone showing up at any time . . . yeah, it didn’t sit right with me. We basically spent the whole time together leading the all-men-suck club.

I also stayed the night with her after parents’ night because of what Ash said about rape play. Not because I was scared, but because I wanted him to sneak into my room. He’s my weakness and he knows it. Why I ever told him about that is beyond me. Maybe because I was stupid enough to believe we would be together forever or some bullshit like that. Naïve. That’s the best word to describe me; well, not anymore. I’ve learned my lesson . . . hopefully.

As soon as my foot lands over the threshold, Grandpa’s chili I set up before school has my stomach growling. I’ve been throwing lunch and dinner in a crockpot before school. Grandpa says he doesn’t need me to cook every day, but I don’t mind. Plus, him being in the hospital scared me, and I’ll do anything to keep that from happening again.

Besides, it’s not like I’m going to morning practice anymore. He has texted me about them nearly every morning, something along the lines of “I’m at the school if you want to come in.” But I don’t. After-school practice is torture enough. With how much anger I’m battling with daily, I am killing it at practice, I don’t need the morning one. We’ve not lost a game since. Maybe that’s why he’s not pushing for us to make up, he’s not—not pushing, but he’s not doing as much as I know he’d like to. It wouldn’t surprise me if Coach is holding back until the season is over so we win or some crap like that. Ash-hole.

“Grandpa!” I shout over the music. Walking into the kitchen, I scan across the trailer and when I don’t see him, I turn the knob on the boom box and shout for him again.

When there is no reply this time, my heart stops altogether.

I hurry back down the hall, because if he’s not in his chair, he’s either in his room or in the bathroom. Maybe he’s sleeping.

Or . . .

I throw his door open without knocking and sigh when Grandpa jumps from his supine position on the bed from my intrusion.

“Dear heavens, Ray-Ray, you are going to give me a heart attack.” He slips his green flannel over his white t-shirt. His hands shake more than they used to, and he doesn’t even attempt the buttons because he can’t do them anymore. At least for now.

The doctor is surprised with how well Grandpa “bounced back” for his age and is confident he should be good as new in no time, but I’m not used to seeing my grandpa so . . . disheveled. We are talking about a man who gets his hair cut every three weeks to the day but had to miss the last one because he was in the hospital, and now his hair lady is on a two-week long vacation. What little hair he does have, is overgrown, and no matter how much he brushes it, it doesn’t lay down.

He can’t shave on his own, he can get dressed—mostly. He can use the bathroom on his own but someone has to be in the bathroom while he showers, at least for another week. Aunt Vicky usually comes up for that. She said something about how that’s a daughter’s job and I didn’t need to worry about it. I think she thought I would find it weird, and sure, it would be awkward but if my grandpa needs me, I will be there. I don’t care how uncomfortable I am. It’s just hard seeing him in this state in general.

“You didn’t answer me.” I pat my chest, hoping to calm my beating heart.

He sighs, turns, and shakes his head slowly before walking over and stopping in front of me. He cups my cheek with his left hand because that’s his “strong” arm . . . for now. “I am fine, Payson. You don’t need to worry.”

My lips twist to the side and I cast my gaze down because I don’t want him to see how close I am to crying. I haven’t cried since the first day I showed up to Janelle’s, and I’m not going to now. I had one moment of weakness. Now I’m fine.

Instinctively, I tuck my arms behind my body in case they show off just how not fine I am.

“Now, let’s get some of that chili. I’ve been smelling it all morning and I’m ready to eat.”

I’m not a great cook, but I’ve been looking at Nana’s recipes when he isn’t looking. I want to surprise him and if he thinks I’m a naturally good cook like my nana, maybe that will make him more proud of me.

I’m washing the dishes from lunch and Grandpa is doing some of his physical therapy behind me at the table. He turns the music back on, as background noise—not like he’s trying to throw the first Jesus-loving rave anymore.

“Have you spoke with Jason?”

Hearing his name sends an unwelcomed shot of anger throughout my body, but I don’t let Grandpa see that. “No, have you?”

I don’t have to look to know he’s frowning. And that’s why I’m angry. It’s not what he said outside the hospital room, not that he abandoned me ten years ago, it’s that he up and left while our grandpa was in the hospital recovering from a stroke. He never came back after that night he called me all those names. Good riddance. I just wish it didn’t hurt Grandpa so much.

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