“Oh, I apologize," Amy sighed.
“Please do not apologize. Clayton is being dramatic.” He really isn’t, but I don’t need to introduce myself likeHi, I’m Max. I have daddy issues, ha ha.
“He hit you.”
“Clayton!” I shout louder than I should have.
“Your father hit you?” Bill says.
“I told you that in secret, Clayton,” I snap, trying to keep the anger from my voice. “I’m sorry, Amy and Bill, but if you’d excuse me a moment."
Rising to my feet, I leave the small dining area and walk the five steps to the bathroom and close the door a little harder than I should have.
Clayton
Shit.
The second the words left my mouth, I knew I fucked up. I had trusted Max when I told him my story. He trusted me with his and a second later, I told someone. Still sitting at the table, my parents and I stare at each other. The bathroom door slams and it jerks me in my seat.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter to myself. Taking the napkin off my lap, I place it on the table, excusing myself and following after him. The door is locked, as suspected. I knock lightly. “Max,” I say through the door, but he doesn’t respond. “Max, please, let me in.”
I hear the sound of the sink running for a moment before it shuts off. The door creaks open just enough for me to slip inside, but Max shuts and locks it behind me.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “It just slipped out the second she said something. I.. I was still processing from when you told me.”
When he told me, I realized that I remembered the bruise on his face when I saw him after the party. I had just subjected it to being from that event. It never occurred to me that it would have been his father. Now his transferring of schools makes complete sense.
“I told you that because I trusted you to not tell anyone.”
“How’s it feel to have your trust broken?” I snap.
His mouth drops open and closes. Once, twice, three times as if he’s a fish out of water.
The guilt hits me. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m doing everything that I can to earn that back. Trying my fucking hardest to be someone that I think you might deserve. Trying to fix what I’ve done. What? Did you let it slip out to spite me?” Max says, face straight as ever. No emotion in those eyes. Not a single ounce of hurt or sadness.Nothing.
“No! I would never do that to you. I wouldn’t do something just to get back at you. I’m pissed for you! Every time I have ever talked about your father, you shut down, and I didn’t want her to bring it up. I didn’t want them to push you to talk about him. I’m sorry, Max,” I try to explain, but I don’t think he’s quite listening to me.
“I want to go home.”
“Okay." I nod. "I’ll take you home.”
He breezes by me, exiting the bathroom and heading right out to the car. Max doesn’t stop in to say goodbye to my parents.
I do.
“I’m sorry. I ruined dinner. Thank you both for having us here and making food, but we’re going to go home.”
“Is Max okay?” Mom asks. Always caring for everyone.
“Max will be fine,” I answer, but I’m not sure how much truth that holds. I’m not sure if I’m even trying to convince them or myself.
“Bye, love you,” I say, leaving.
“Love you.” Both of my parents call out.
The entire ride back to campus was painstakingly quiet. Tension too thick that it was suffocating. Every time I went to speak, even just to apologize again, I saw the natural state of anger across Max's face and decided against it. The anger is fine, deserved. I did that, but what isn't fine is that I'm not sure how to fix it.
