Steph runs up to me next, “congrats on the new house” she gushes as she hugs me. “I’m happy that you can finally take back the power this place had over you.”
I nod my head, “it feels good.”
She steps back in line with August, he wraps his arm across her back and rests his hand on her hip. The two of them are happy, and the engagement ring sparkling on Stephs finger is proof of that.
We sit on the half-finished back deck and talk until the sun sets. We reminisce on the times we had almost two years ago, about how crazy and stupid we used to be.
I look at my friends, watching them laugh while I lay in Lucas’s lap. These people are my family, always have been and always will be. I love them more than they could ever know, and there’s no doubt that it’s reciprocated.
Even after two years of barely seeing one another, we’re still close as ever. We’re always up to date on each others lives, we congratulate one another when the good stuff happens, and share tears after the bad stuff.
“I kind of wish I could have watched them tear this place down” I say quietly, “it would have felt good.” The boys all share a look, one that tells me I’m not in the loop on everything quite yet. “Alright, spill it” I say, sitting up and sighing.
When these boys get together, chaos ensues.
Blair smiles sheepishly, looking at me like a scared puppy, “we kind of all came together and personally broke down the walls and stuff.”
Oh? I wasnotexpecting that.
“We took a video of it” Miller says quickly. “We figured you’d want to see it.”
This… this is why I love these people.
* * *
“I don’t want to talk about it Chris!” I yell over my shoulder as I storm away from him.
“Come on, we have to talk about it” he screams back.
The two of us have been fighting for the last couple days, ever since we got a call from Craig that our father landed himself in the hospital. The bastard took pills, tried to fucking kill himself just to get us to see him.
He’s been trying for the better half of a year to get in contact with us. He blew up my phone every day, leaving stupid voice mails about how he wants to see both of us, about how sorry he is that he hurt me.
It was all crap and we both know it.
He wants us back in his grasp because he knows he has nothing without us. His pristine reputation is tattered, and without us by his side selling a story of forgiveness to every one of his business partners, they won’t go near him.
Seems like a lot of people don’t like doing business with abusers.
Crazy.
Don’t ask me why I haven’t blocked his number, because honestly I don’t know. He hurt me so badly, so many times… but I can’t bring myself to block my only form of contact with him —even though I haven’t actually answered any of his calls or texts.
Chris thinks we should go talk to him in person and tell him to leave us the fuck alone.Ithink we should let him rot in whatever state he’s put himself in. He doesn’t deserve to see my face, or to hear my voice. I’ve wasted too much time on him already.
“Chris just let it go” I beg. “Please.”
He goes to say something else but he’s interrupted by his phone ringing. He answers the call, and gives me a look that says ‘we aren’t finished yet’.
Chris continues to follow behind me to his kitchen, where I throw the fridge open and search for anything, something, to distract myself with.
“What?” Chris’s voice breaks. Without hesitation I turn around. My brother never cries. His eyes are glassy, and the shaking of his hands as he hangs up has me on high alert. “Dad’s dead” he whispers, staring at nothing in particular.
Crushing relief —and grief— flood my system.
Dad.
Mydad… isdead
