Page 61 of Unloved

His fingers trace patterns and lines up and down the nape of my neck as I talk.

“The day before, we were laughing and joking and he was reading to me before bed,” I say before pausing, trying to swallow the emotion away. “And the next day it was all gone. And I didn’t know why.

“As I got older and understood what suicide actually is and what someone like my dad was going through, it ate at me everyday that I didn’t know how sad he was. He never let it show, and I was too young to read between the lines.”

Leaning forward, he presses his lips gently to mine, kissing me with comfort.

“I just want to say,” he starts. “The reason you didn’t know your dad was struggling is because he didn’t want you to know.”

“I know that,” I say with sadness I haven’t felt in years. “But it doesn’t hurt any less.”

“Did you ever doubt his love for you?” he asks. “After he died?”

I shake my head. “No. I knew he loved me with everything he had. Me and my mom. There was not a single day in my life where I didn’t feel his love.”

“And isn’t that what you said to Lennox the other day? That you were no longer scared if something bad happened, but you were more scared that you were robbing you both of the opportunity of knowing how the other felt?”

I don’t know how we started the conversation with sex and then managed to move on to all things sadnesses, but I’m learning it always feels better to not have things left unsaid.

“I’m scared of anyone I care about not knowing how I feel about them.” I tighten my hold on him, hoping he knows he’s one of those I care about.

“I get that.” His eyes veer off to the side, no longer looking at me, his gaze distant and unfocused. “It’s how I feel about Kayla. Like she’ll only ever know the version of me my father feeds her.”

When his eyes return to me, I don’t miss the longing he has for his sister.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“For what?”

“That you miss her so much.”

He hikes up a shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either.”

At this he rolls his eyes. “Were you not there the night I told you how I left her for hours unattended?”

“I heard the story loud and clear,” I say. “I heard about the brother who fucked up. I heard about the brother who apologized. I heard about the brother who has a disease and is seeking help. I heard about the brother who loves his sister unconditionally.” I make sure to hold his stare. “You know what I didn’t hear about?” With unshed tears in his eyes, he expectantly waits for me to continue. “I didn’t hear anything about a brother who needs to be the family’s punching bag.”

22

RHYS

I’ve vomited no fewer than five times since I woke up this morning and it’s only three o’clock in the afternoon. I can’t keep anything in my stomach and nausea lodges itself in my throat every time Arlo messages me from Seattle to “check in.”

The anxiety-ridden mess of a human being I am is certain he’s expecting me to fuck up, while the very small sliver of rationale that tries to penetrate my thoughts reminds me that Arlo is one of my closest friends and has probably very well picked up on my mood swings all week and is more than likely just concerned about me.

I don’t know what I was thinking, asking my father to meet me here. It’s a place that means so much to me, and he’s going to trash it to the ground. He won’t see the place that saved me, the place that introduced me to Arlo and ultimately led me to Lennox and Samuel.

He won’t see pride and perseverance.

He’ll see nothing but another failure, and for the first time in so long, that bothers me.

“Rhys.”

I continue to clean the front desk as I swallow the bile that creeps up my throat at the sound of my father’s voice. I haven’t seen him since the last time I told him I needed to go to rehab. When he just looked at me, with nothing but indifference on his face and said“I suppose asking you to succeed at anything would be too much.”

I’m in a good place now; the best I’ve ever been. And I need to keep reminding myself of that while I’m with him.

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