“Son.”
I flinch, even though he’s on the other side of the glass, and I hate it. “I’m not your son,” I say, my tone firm. He doesn’t get to call me that when he’s the reason I’m so fucked up.
My father’s hair is almost completely gray, despite only being a year older than Momma, but the difference between them is stark. His skin appears more sunken in than I remember, but there’s no mistaking his cold eyes that have haunted so many of my nightmares.
“Well,Jack, why are you here? It’s been twelve years,” he muses, staring at me with his dark eyes I’m so grateful I didn’t inherit. I remember how they used to seem almost black when he’d get angry.
My heart is hammering fast in my chest, and I know it’s been twelve years, but I never planned on seeing him again. I’m shocked Coach even approved this impromptu detour, but I don’t have long before I need to be back at the airport for my flight to Minnesota. “I met a girl—the most incredible girl, but you fucked me up so badly I can’t tell her I love her.”
“Why are you blaming me for this?”
“Because I’m terrified to be like you. How could you treat Momma the way you did?” I ask, trying to rein my temper in.
His face shifts, and for a moment, he looks remorseful for what he’s done. I guess he’s had twelve years to repent for his crimes. “The fact you’re afraid to be like me tells me you’re nothing like me. I was a coward back then, and?—”
I interrupt him, “And you’re different now, right? I’m supposed to believe that after all this time you’ve changed.”
“You don’t have to believe me. I know you don’t know who I am. I’ve sent you some letters over the years, but I never heard back from you,” Dad says, and all I can do is stare at his prison suit.
“Because the last time I saw you, you were threatening to kill the person I love most in the world. ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Jack. You’re going to be just like me.’That’s what you said to me before they took you away.” My hands are shaking, and I hide them beneath the counter. “I ripped them all up. Every single one of them.”
His nostrils flare, and it’s satisfying to know I’ve gotten under his skin after the way he’s been rotting underneath mine. “It’s how it works—the cycle of abuse. My daddy hit me, and his hit him. Just be grateful I never struck you. Maybe you won’t be like me, maybe you will.”
“No, I just had to watch you beat my mom down and hold a gun to her head more times than I can count. How many black eyes and broken bones would’ve been enough for you, or was it really that big of a power trip for you to pick on someone half your size?” I ask, disgusted his excuse for how he treated us is the cycle of abuse. I know it’s a real thing. It’s why I’ve never wanted to tempt it.
Not until Alondra.
I’m here because I want to get past this instead of hiding from it.
“I’m a drunk, son. I didn’t know what I was doing most of the time. But I guess knowing I held someone else’s life in my hands was a power trip, as you put it,” he admits, and it’s in this moment I realize something.
I’m looking at my dad, and I don’t see a single similarity between us.
I’ve been so afraid of turning into this person, but the only way it happens is if I let myself hide behind excuses like him. Momma made damn sure I learned to take accountability for my actions.
“I am not your son,” I repeat, rising out of my chair to my full height. “As far as I’m concerned, you died the day you went to prison. I’m nothing like you, and I’m never going to be.”
The best part is, I actually believe it as I walk away from him for good.
I know the nightmares probably won’t ever end, but facing the worst one is a really good first step.
When I get to the safety of the world outside, I feel like I can breathe again, but not entirely. I pull my phone out, ordering my Uber to the airport, and flip through a few pictures I have of me and Al together.
She makes me happy—even just the sight of her in a picture.
I want to talk to her and tell her what I just did. I want to tell Al how she’s the best fucking part of my day and without her I feel like I’ve lost a part of myself.
Iwantto tell Alondra I love her. I think I’ve loved her for a while, but I was wrong to think I didn’t believe in love. The truth I didn’t want to admit was, I’m terrified of love, but if Alondra can get past her shit by admitting her feelings for me, then the least I can do is believe in myself by trusting my momma raised me right.
My Uber pulls up in the parking lot, and I climb in, feeling better than I have in weeks because I’m not running away anymore.
I’m running toward something.
I’m more tired than I think I’ve ever been, and of course, there’s a fucking snowstorm threatening to ruin my chances of making it back to Alondra.
It’s like the universe is betting against us before we can even start, and we sure as hell can’t start anything if I can’t make it to her to profess my love. I got the last flight in before the storm really kicked up, and I was glad to be leaving instead of one of the hundreds of people stranded in the airport waiting for their flight to be rescheduled.
Out of everything I’ve accomplished this weekend, I didn’t think I’d get stuck in the home stretch.
