“Something did happen!” He keeps his voice low, but his tone is hard. Biting. “And you weren’t there.”
I frown. “You’re talking about the surgery?”
His brows fly up. “Of courseI’m talking about the surgery!” He closes his eyes and releases a harsh breath. “Ajit always said…He made it sound like things between the two of you were…were strained, but you only have one father. You only get one—”
No.No. He doesn’t get to lecture me about this. He doesn’t get to lecture me at all. “You don’t know anything about my father. About how he’s been, or how I’ve had to—you don’t know anything about it.”
“Maybe,” he says, his jaw hard. “But you’re not the only one who’s gone through something difficult.”
“I know that.” I shake my head. “I’m not saying that I am.” I pause. “I remember what you told me.”
His shoulders stiffen, and I soften my voice.
“I understand that you’ve gone through a lot,” I say. “That you’ve lost a lot. I’m not trying to say our situations are the same—”
“No,” he says. “They’re not. And we certainly didn’t handle them the same.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that some of us have to work through our issues. We don’t have any other choice but to show up for the people who need us. Some of us have to grow up.”
My temperature rises. “Well, how fortunate for my father that he just happened to haveyou.”
He scoffs and turns away, looking out the window, while my blood continues to boil.
I think about the man in my hotel room. The one who listened to me without judgment, with understanding, who accepted me as I was.
Was he only like that because sex was on the table? Because I don’t recognize this version of him. This person who thinks he cantell me how I should think and feel about my father. Who thinks I just need togrow up. As if I’m somehow to blame for my father’s decisions, for the way he acted when I was just a child.
We sink into silence, the car entirely quiet except for the occasional loud snore from my father. I fiddle with the radio, landing on something playing generic pop.
We pass through a few small towns. Old gray buildings and whitewashed homes. Expanses of green: trees and fields and gentle hills.
The scenery’s beautiful, but after a while it all blends together. My brain switches to autopilot as the minutes continue to pass, exhaustion starting to set in.
There are a few cows in the field to my right. They aren’t the infamous hairy coos Scotland is known for, just some ordinary dairy cows, but they’re incredibly cute all the same. A small calf runs to its mother, wobbly and awkward on its shorter legs, and it makes me smile.
Until bright red lights flash in front of me.
“Neelu, slow down,” a voice cries, and a hand lands on my knee, squeezing tight.
I quickly press on the brakes, the seat belt around my chest tightening, the car rocking a bit as it comes to a sudden stop, narrowly avoiding a collision with the car in front of us.
“What happened?” my father asks, a little groggy. He blinks as he wakes, looking around.
“Nothing,” I say. “Sorry.” My mouth tastes bitter, adrenaline pumping through me. “I didn’t notice the traffic.”
The fingers on my knee dig deeper, the skin above the knuckles growing white.
I turn to look at Jacob, and his eyes are wide, his cheeks ashy.
“Everyone’s okay?” I ask, still watching Jacob. “Right?”
“I’m fine,” my dad responds, and Jacob blinks, slowly returning to himself.
“You need to be more careful,” he says through his teeth.
I flush. “I got distracted.”
