Page 104 of Our Secret Moments

THIRTY-EIGHT

CAT

DADDY DEAREST

I’ve always knownthat coming back home would make me uncomfortable. It’s not been the same since mom passed away, and I don’t think it ever will be. Since Christmas, I’ve been avoiding it like the plague. I never wanted to go around there anyway, but confronting my dad like that was new. As much as he gets under my skin, I never raise my voice or get angry like that. It’s an unwritten rule, no matter how rocky our relationship can get.

Which is why I’m surprised he’s been trying to call me for the past week. Most conversations last a few minutes and he asks me how I am before interrupting me to tell me about how hard his job is. Maybe this is his pathetic attempt at trying to establish a relationship with me.

The call I got at the game earlier was different. There was an edge in his voice. Not the usual flare of annoyance that surrounds each of our conversations, but something deeper and angrier.

He told me to get to the house as soon as possible and I did. As much as I knew missing the last half of Connor’s gameis going to break his heart, I’d never forgive myself if I did something without knowing and hurt my dad even more.

I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He can irritate me and make me wonder what I’ve done wrong, but at the end of the day, he’s still my dad and I should listen to him. It’s the least I can do after the way I acted at Christmas.

I push open the door to the house, my hands shaking for a reason I can’t find. Maybe it’s the anticipation of the moment, or the fact that my body knows that something isn’t right before my brain does.

The house smells of its usual spices, something that hasn’t changed since mom died, but something else lingers in the air as I step through the hallway. I call out for my dad, but he doesn’t answer. Instead I hear his voice soft but taunting in the dining room, another female voice talking with him.

I inch closer, trying to keep myself out of view.

JoJo.

She’s allowed home visits whenever she wants to, but she usually lets me know in advance so we can have the house to ourselves. I doubt she would want to have a conversation with my dad just on her own. Hell, even I don’t sometimes and I’m the one who is actually related to him.

He must have called me over to see her, or is this some sort of intervention?

“You can’t keep going on like this, Eric,” JoJo whispers. I can hear the soft sound of the small metal spoon I can imagine she’s using to mix her tea. “You two need to fix this. Is she on her way?”

“Yes, she’s on her way,” my dad mumbles, his voice hoarse. I step closer against the wall, trying my hardest to stay quiet. My gut churns at his next words. “This isn’t my problem to fix. Can’tyou see that? I’ve always been busy and caught up with work. That has never changed,shehas.”

I swallow, my stomach turning into pure acid. “Eric, come on, now. You know that’s not true. I just want the best for my grandbaby.”

He lets out a loud sigh, bordering on a groan. “No one has ever tried to look at my side of it. I lost mywife.The love of my life. And I’m left with a campaign to run and a daughter who looks at me like she hates me. What am I supposed to do with that, Joanne?”

I canseethe temper rising on my dad just by listening to his voice. He’s never violent and would never do anything to hurt anyone, he’s just… passionate. Still, JoJo is not getting any better and she doesn’t need this kind of stress on her.

I decide to slowly move into the dining room, catching my dad with his hands pressed onto the table, JoJo at the head of the table, her silk head scarf wrapped around her hair and her hands shaking around her mug.

“Birdie, you’re here,” JoJo calls, her eyes bright. I smile tightly, turning to my dad. “We need to talk. All of us.”

“Yes, we do,” my dad bites out. This would all be great if he could chill the fuck out for two seconds. Instead, he grunts as he turns from the table when something catches his eye behind where JoJo is sitting.

In every Jamaican household, the dining room is usually dimly lit with a ton of random artwork my parents have acquired over the years. Some they get from markets and others they've passed down from their parents. We have a framed photo of the lyrics to the national anthem, a Bob Marley painting and my mom’s favourite piece.

It’s a woven sheet with the words ‘What you do here, what you see here, what you hear here, let it stay here, or don’t come back here.’ It used to freak me out as a kid before I realised thatmy parents only had it up there as a joke. I’d walk past it and laugh, thinking it was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen inside a house. But for some reason, my dad’s awfully interested in it right now.

I move towards JoJo, placing my hand behind her chair as she turns to see what my dad’s doing. “Dad, what are you doing?”

“I’m moving it.”

“Don’t move it, Eric,” JoJo warns.

“If we’re moving on, if we’re going to have a grown up conversation, things need to change around here. Starting with this.” The edge of anger in his voice catches me off guard.

“That can stay where it is,” I whisper. He turns to me, his reddened eyes narrowed. “Moving that is not going to change what’s going on. We need to talk.”

---