My chest tightens. “So how do you think I felt? My parents are both gone, and I’m with my aunt and uncle, and no one’stelling me what’s going to happen. I’m not getting to see any of my friends at school. My whole life just changed, and I thought it was my fault.”
His forehead creases as his attention returns to me. “Your fault?” he asks, as though he genuinely can’t imagine why I’d suggest that, which I can’t for the fucking life of me get.
“What else was I supposed to think? She killed herself, Dad. I should have known something was wrong and done something, anything, to stop her. And then you left. And I’m trying to figure out if you blamed me for not helping her. Fuck, I felt so much shame, Dad.” I’m gripped by that agony, the events flashing before me in quick succession, transporting me back to that dark time…the screaming. “One day, while I was staying at Tilly and Roger’s, I went into the woods behind their house and just fell on my knees and started screaming as loud as I could, saying I was sorry and that you both needed to come back to me. I was hoping, if I screamed loud enough, Mom or you would come back because I needed you, but no one heard me. So I just screamed until I lost my voice.”
His gaze meets mine, his eyes wide with panic or terror, and maybe for the first time, he seems to understand what I’m sharing with him. His eyes water, and he shakes his head. “You seemed like you were handling it fine when I got back.”
I struggle to keep the tears at bay as I explain, “Because I was a kid who finally got his dad back, and at the time, that seemed like the most important thing in the world, but then, when I realized things still weren’t okay, I was terrified of saying something to you because then you might leave me again.”
“Miles, I wouldn’t have—”
“How would I have known that? Do you have any idea what that did to me? I thought I was lucky you even came back. And now I can still hear that kid in the woods screaming, Dad.” It’s ringing in my damn head even now. “It’s so loud, and solonely. And I’ve spent so much of my life hating everyone for not being able to hear how loud I’m screaming, even though I don’t actually ask anyone for help because I don’t believe anyone’s coming because of how fucked up I am.”
I’ve never articulated these feelings to anyone so clearly before, and it’s like in saying them, clarity moves through me. Something clicks, catching me off guard. “That’s why I was so messed up about Dax,” I blurt, not really even meaning to say it out loud.
“Dax?” he asks, confused for new reasons. Not that I can blame him because it’s not like I’ve told him shit about my life, let alone the amazing guy I’ve fallen in love with.
“There’s this guy…I want you to meet him. I was so confused when I first saw him because he was this bright sunshine, and he reminded me of that light Mom had to her. And at first, I thought I was mad at him, and I was also scared that I was some kind of monster who was going to ruin this guy’s life. But then I also felt like I had to protect him, like I should have protected her, and like I’ve had to protect you all these years, walking on eggshells around your feelings so you wouldn’t leave me too. And it was all this confusing mess, but I think I get it now, why I was so fucked up about him. Fuck…”
I sit with the weight of this realization, really appreciating that I don’t feel as messed up or like some stalker psychopath the way I did when I was first so intrigued by him.
But there’s more to it than that.
“Dax pushed me to see past all that shit in my head. To question my assumptions. I opened up to him, scary as it was to do it. And he cleared away all the dark clouds. Hell, he’s why I’m here today because I’m learning that it’s worth talking through shit and dealing with it. And that if I don’t find a way to face some of these demons, I might push him away like I’ve pushed everyone else away, and that’s not happening.”
It’s likely why I even went to Shera’s office that day. Some part of me knowing I needed to get help.
I still need help.
Dad leans closer to me, a warmth in his expression, a sharp contrast to his fear at the start of this conversation.
“You’re in love?” he asks quietly.
It brings to mind much more pleasant feelings…of being with him. “Yeah. He’s pretty amazing.”
“You never even told me you like guys.”
He doesn’t sound surprised as much as hurt.
“There are a lot of things I haven’t told you, Dad. I love you, but if we can’t talk about some of this stuff, then I don’t know how we’ll ever get past this.”
He flinches, his chin quivers, the water that’s built up in his eyes finally breaking past the dam and sliding down his cheeks. “You’re not wrong, Miles. I don’t like to bring her up. I loved your mother so much. And the way it happened… I blamed myself all these years, never considering you would have blamed yourself. She seemedfine, and I feel like an idiot for saying that because everyone will think I was inattentive or I didn’t care, but she was so good at making it seem…”
“Like things were perfect?”
He nods.
“I kept trying to understand where things had gone so wrong. What I missed. And then I found these transactions on her card that she’d been seeing a therapist, and there was a diary…”
“She kept a diary?”
“It was dark, Miles. That’s why I never told you. I didn’t want you to see that side of her, wanted you to remember her as that bright light in our lives. I really thought I’d done the right thing, but clearly…” His face trembles, a few more tears breaking free, and he bows forward, sobbing.
At first, I’m back to thinking I’m a monster, enjoying that he’s sobbing, before realizing it’s relief,such a relief, to see his true feelings.
“Oh, what have I done?” he asks, though it’s clear he’s not talking to me. He’s that kid screaming out in the woods, all alone.
I push to my feet, approaching him and resting a hand on his shoulder.
