Hannah places her head on my chest and snuggles under my arm like she used to when she was little. “I couldn’t imagine leaving you, Dad. You’re my world. Maybe Pete was in your life to teach you how to be someone’s world when life begins to shatter into pieces. You never skipped a beat, and you never let me down.”
Relief fills my chest. I will never eliminate the thought of worry, the thought of what could happen, but there’s truth behind Hannah’s words, and I needed to hear them more than I needed to feel myself breathe.
22
For the secondtime in the last few years, I’ve gotten wind—happened to see a note on her desk—about Hannah attending a party at Razor’s Edge. The thought of her being there feels like a nail driving into the side of my head.
When we spoke about Pete a few weeks ago at the cemetery, I acted like I had no idea she even knew about the place. In truth, I dragged Brett down there a few years ago and removed the ropes and boarded up the tower. The thought of Hannah hanging out there, knowing what could go through someone’s mind, was horrifying. She’s older now, though. I’m getting to a point where I can’t stop her from making her own decisions, which makes me feel like I’ve lost control, and I don’t like it.
“Brody?” Journey calls over as she walks into our bedroom.
“Yeah, what’s up?” I reply, holding my focus on the area rug beneath my feet.
“Um, you’re going to be late for work, and I need to get Isla to my mom’s so I can get to my gig. Why are you sitting here staring at the floor like a zombie?”
“I don’t know.”
Journey plops down beside me and pulls her black-legging clad legs up into a pretzel. “I just dropped a load of laundry off in Hannah’s room, so I bet I can take a stab at what you don’t know.” I press my palms into my temples, trying to alleviate the pressure. “You can tell her no. I can tell her no. Either way … we can tell her no.”
“Am I going overboard? I don’t want my fears to make her question her ability to make good decisions.” I want her to be strong and independent, not afraid of life.
Journey releases a sigh and pulls her long strands of waves behind her shoulders. “Yes and no.”
“That’s not helpful,” I say. “What if she or Isla told you they were going to have a New Years Party at the Barrel House. Or what if you randomly found out? You wouldn’t be worried after what you went through?”
With her elbows pressed into her thighs, she rests her chin on her balled up fists. “Our daughters will never have a party at The Bourbon House. I have armed that place better than a bank on Wall Street. However, I realize you can’t do that with Razor’s Edge.”
“I think you should tell her about Adam—what happened after drinking at the New Year’s Party. Maybe it will make her think twice, especially hearing it from you.r.”
“Brody,” she argues. “Hannah doesn’t need to think the world could end with every decision she makes. The odds of her driving off a cliff after walking in on her ex-boyfriend kissing some attractive girl is pretty slim.”
I lift my head and look over at her. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I ask, grinning. “How are you so cocky?”
“Years of practice,” she says. “It’s the same reason I chose not to talk about bulimia with her. We all go through stuff, but it doesn’t mean the same thing will happen to her. She’s probably going to experience things we’ve never thought of.”
“But you overcame bulimia, and you have found ways to live with the outcome of that New Year's eve. Isn’t that an important lesson? Like Pete?”
“No, I think you’re trying to instill fear into her life that she doesn’t need. We’ve talked to her about the dangers of drinking and driving. We’ve talked to her about going too far with her diet and working out, and we’ve handled her depression with medication. She’s barely seventeen. She should still be able to live with a little innocence. We’ve given her the necessary tools to keep herself safe. If she thinks everyone around her is a broken mess, she’ll feel the same, and we’ve been trying to free her from that feeling for so many years.”
Everything Journey is saying is true and makes sense, but the dad in me just wants to scare her out of making stupid decisions, and I don’t want her at Razor’s Edge. It’s a dangerous place. “Yeah,” I say.
“You’re not listening, and I have a feeling you’re going to end up at Razor’s Edge tonight.”
I turn away from Journey because sometimes I hate how well she knows me, even though it’s what I love most about her. “I can’t just turn it off, babe.”
“I get it.”
“You were doing so much better after your talk with her a few weeks ago. Don’t let this one thing bring you back to that place.”
“Why would she want to go there after I told her about Pete?”
Journey shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe just curiosity.”
As the day goes by, I convince myself I can take a step back and allow Hannah to be a seventeen-year-old and make responsible decisions, except, it’s now eight o’clock, and I’m parked behind Journey’s old Jeep she handed down to Hannah when she got a new one. It’s dark, and there is nothing but woods in front of me. If there is a party here, why is Hannah’s Jeep the only vehicle parked in this spot?
I try to breathe through the panic rushing through me. Why would Hannah write down her plans on a sticky note? It’s like she wanted me to see it—if she assumes I invade her privacy by going through her room every morning after she leaves for school. I grab my flashlight and hop out of the truck, trying my best to remember the trail that leads to the tower. Those boards better still be intact.
When I shine the light toward the tower, I confirm that the boards are still in place, and I see Hannah sitting alone beneath the tower on a rock. There’s no party here.
