Forget my current situation with Silas. I haven’t seen my dad in almost two months. The idea of facing the memories that saturate every room of that house fills me with dread. Unless something is radically different since being there last,the weight of my mother's absence still hangs in the air like smoke.
Silas clears his throat. "I, uh. I got you something."
"You... got me something," I repeat. I feel like one of those Lucky Cat statues, wide-eyed and nodding.
"We didn't talk about doing anything for Valentine's Day. I know that it's sort of a couple's holiday. But I thought just to be safe, I'd get you a treat and some flowers." He rubs his hand over the back of his neck. "Don't want to be accused of being a terrible Valentine."
His speech takes me by surprise and I burst out laughing. "Silas, you didn't have to do anything. We're obviously not doing the normal V-Day stuff." My cheeks heat. "Driving to see my dad isn't exactly what most people would consider romantic."
He stares straight ahead, but his lips lift at the corners. "Let me decide what's romantic."
He directs me to the backseat, where I find a bouquet of winter flowers tied with a pretty bow and a metal tin full of pear-flavored jelly beans. "These are my favorites!"
"It's almost like I know you," he teases. “In college, you’d always keep a huge jar of these to study with. You even brought it into the library a few times.”
"That’s true! I forgot about that." I dig in immediately, scooping out a pile of the light green candies and popping them in my mouth. "These are amazing. Thank you for knowing just what would make my day brighter."
"You're welcome, Pretty Girl." Silas slides me a satisfied look. "That should top up your supply for a week or so."
I eat another palmful of the candies, smirking at him. He thinks he knows so much. And maybe, in this one circumstance, he's right.
As we start to get closer, driveways leading to smallhouses dot the windy country road. By the time we pull up in the driveway and bump down the road to the house, my stomach is in knots.
The two story house of rotting wood and its lopsided porch stand in relief against the heather-gray cliffside and the dark water of the sea. The yard is overgrown, with weeds choking the flower beds my mother used to tend so carefully. The gutters sag under accumulated debris. Paint peels around the window frames and hangs in sad curls.
A stifling weight presses on my chest as I look at the house. Once beloved, the place has now been left to molder. Nothing happy can grow here. I rub my hand absently over my heart, willing the ache to disappear.
"Scout." Silas's voice startles. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Fine." I force a smile that feels brittle. "I should prepare you. My dad isn't... he's not doing great. Since my mom died five years ago, he's just kind of... given up."
His jaw tightens. "I understand."
"No, you don't." My voice cracks. "He doesn't clean. Doesn't cook. Barely leaves his bed most days. I come up here to take care of him because if I don't, he'll just waste away."
"Scout..."
"I know what you're thinking. Why doesn't he take better care of himself? Why do I have to do it?" Tears sting my eyes. "Because he's my dad and someone has to. My sister can't handle it on her own. So we split it."
Silas reaches across the console and takes my hand. "I wasn't thinking that. I was thinking that you shouldn't have to carry this alone."
My throat goes tight. "Well. Here we are."
We get out of the truck and I lead him up the sagging porch steps. The door sticks when I push it, swollen from rainand neglect. Inside smells like must and unwashed dishes and the particular stale sadness that comes from a house where no one really lives anymore.
"Dad?" I call out. "It's Scout. I brought someone with me."
Shuffling comes from the living room. My dad appears in the doorway looking exactly like I expected. Gaunt, unshaven, wearing the same flannel shirt he's probably worn for days. His eyes are hollow and distant, barely registering that we're here.
"Scout," he says. Flat. No warmth. His eyes go to Silas, narrowing suspiciously.
"Hi, Dad. This is Silas. He's... he's my boyfriend." The word feels strange coming out. I probably should have asked Silas about labels.
Then again, he did get me a Valentine’s Day present.
My dad gives Silas a distrustful once-over. "Nice to meet you."
"You too, sir," Silas says, his voice gentle.
