“Cut to the chase.”
His chest rose while his empty gray eyes looked up to the sky. “This is hard for me, so I need you to listen.” His gaze flicked back over to me, waiting for understanding. I nodded, and he continued, “You were only two years old when I married your mom, and we agreed to keep this a secret, but I just can’t anymore. I was never fit to be a father, and Jackie’s not here anymore.” His breath shredded. “She left me. She left you. It’s not fair for either one of us.”
My heart bottomed out while the rest of me hung on to every tingle of nerves. “Keep what a secret?”
“You’re a smart girl. You can’t tell me you’ve never questioned it.”
“Questioned what?” My voice grew louder despite the blank expression on my face. “Stop bullshitting me and spit it out already.”
“You’re not my blood, Mia, and it’s time that you know the truth.”
An incredulous laugh belted from my lips, and my father snapped his furrowed brows together.
“You … ” I paused and shook my head, “You came all this way to tell me that? You could have saved half a day of your life and a thousand bucks.”
“Mia, stop this.”
“No”—I stood— “a simple phone call would have sufficed.”
“I’m not done talking with you. Don’t you want to know the rest?”
I stretched my arms out to my sides. “Oh, please … tell me dad, or should I start calling you Bruce? I can’t wait to hear this.”
“You were never born in the United States, Mia. You were born here … in Surrey. Your mother took you back to the US after you were born, so you have dual citizenship. The reason I was able to convince the judge, to get you into Dolor, in the first place.”
Another disbelieving laugh escaped me. I couldn’t help it. It was all too much. “Okay, I’ve heard enough.”
“I’m not done!”
“I am! Basically, what you’re saying is, I’m not your daughter, and I’m not welcome back. How am I doing so far,Dad?”
“Don’t say it like that. It’s not what I meant.”
“What exactly did you mean?”
“I was never cut out for this, but I did the best I could! Of course, you’re welcome back at any time. I want you in my life, but I want you to want to be in my life too, all while knowing the whole truth. And the truth of the matter is, we both somehow ended up together, but we made it this far. Diane will come around. She just needs some time. She doesn’t understand you and can be closed-minded by all this mental illness shit—
“Mental illness shit? Fuck you!” And I left him standing there as I marched back to Ethan in front of the building. What my dad really was saying was I was his past, and he wanted to move on without me. Ethan stood about sixty yards away, but each step I took away from my dad didn’t feel as if I was adding enough distance between us. My brain turned to mush, unable to sort my thoughts on how I felt, and tears never poured when I thought they would.
“You alright?” Ethan asked as he studied my face.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not, Mia. I can see it on your face.”
“Just take me back inside,” my voice hitched. “Please.”
My mask was slipping and trying to stay strong for this long turned into a struggle.
We walked back through the double doors of Dolor, and as soon as they closed behind us, Ethan grabbed my hand and tugged me through a side door on the right until we were out of sight. His long arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me in for a hug and I didn’t resist. I threw my arms around him, and as soon as my face hit his neck, I broke apart.
“He’s an arsehole,” Ethan said calmly, cradling me in his arms.
“How did you know?” I asked after pulling my head away and searching Ethan’s eyes. “How did you know why he came?”
“I talked to him when he first arrived.” Ethan pressed my head back into his neck while his other hand ran up my back as he fell back against the wall. His stubble grazed my cheek as he held me tighter. “The number of people who love you doesn’t determine your worth. Remember that.”
Through my dinner and shower routine, I stayed quiet as I tried to get a grip on everything that happened. The remainder of the night, I took my restlessness and anger out on my journal, writing everything out as if it were a punching bag. If I said I wasn’t hurt, it would have been a lie.
