Page 63 of Unloved

It would kill me to leave Lennox and Samuel. It might be new, but I know it’s real, and that’s why they’ll understand. If I leave them for Kayla, they will.

A humorless laugh leaves my father’s mouth. “That’s not an option, Rhys. I need to sell your apartment because I’m tying up loose ends here.”

He referred to me as a loose end.

Something to tie up and throw away.

Losing my balance, I fall to the floor, my knees hitting the concrete, painfully.

“Let me get this straight,” I say, my voice void of emotion, almost robot-like. “You’re moving to Japan, for good, with the family, and in order for you to do that you need to kick me out of my apartment.” I cock my head to the side. “How soon do you need me out?”

“By the end of the month,” he responds, without even an ounce of hesitation. “And I’ll no longer be providing you with your monthly allowance while you look for a job.”

“I just told you I found a job,” I scream, completely livid at his dismissal. “I’m trying. I’m fucking trying.”

He clenches his jaw. “Watch your mouth, Rhys.”

Tears fueled by anger fall, my emotions having nowhere else to go but down my face.

“Can I see Kayla before you go? Please,” I beg.

“For her to get attached to you only to never see you again?” He shakes his head vehemently. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Of course I’m going to see her again,” I argue. “I’ll come to Japan and see her.”

“Please,” he scoffs. “I will not be making her any promises you don’t intend to keep.”

I’m still kneeling on the ground, looking up at him like a meek, pathetic little boy, because that is all I’ll ever be in front of this man. My pride, my self-worth, my dignity. My ability to love, my ability to heal. He holds all of it, bunched together like a bouquet of flowers, and he crushes them.

Over and over again.

“Get up off the floor,” he says, his voice full of disgust.

When I don’t move, he crouches down in front of me, and he’s a man looking at a stranger. There’s no love or familiarity, because he doesn’t know me any more than I know him.

He’s a man disappointed by his son.

And I’m a man disappointed by his father.

And that’s all we’ll ever be.

“We’ll be in Japan indefinitely,” he says. “Make it easier on yourself and pretend we don’t exist. And we’ll do the same. Live your life the way you want, without a care in the world for anyone else.” He squeezes my shoulder. “You’re really good at that.”

And then he leaves.

It takes me a while to collect my thoughts and when I pick myself up off the floor, I make sure to leave all the good things I’ve done and acquired behind. My chest cracks at the loss and the realization, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend to be something I’m not.

I will never be whole. I will never be healed.

I’m just Rhys the addict. I’ll never be more, and I’ll always be less.

I take my cell out of my pocket and send a text before dialing a number.

A number that’s seared into my brain.

A number I wish I could forget.

“Hello,” the voice on the other line says. “Didn’t think I would hear from you again. What do you need?”

---