And he wasn’t alone.
Some woman who looked barely old enough to be in anything with “Brews” in its name was laughing with him as they stumbled and swayed into the alley next to the bar. The woman was wearing tight jeans and had way too much makeup on. Her high heels scraped over the cracked street as Dad led the way, holding her hand.
Ice-cold needles stabbed me up and down my spine. Every inch of me told me to keep going, to go home. Told me not to follow them. But it was like I didn’t have a choice. Like a moth that flies into a campfire knowing it will die but does it anyway.
Quietly, I pushed my bike up the small alley, but they weren’t there anymore. When I walked all the way to the corner of the alley, I stopped and peeked around it. My bike almost slipped from my grip when I saw the woman on her knees rightin front of my dad. He gripped her head with both hands, and his head was tilted upward with his eyes closed.
She was fucking giving him a blow job.
I tasted bile on my tongue. Bitter and sharp. I actually had to swallow not to gag.
Emotions pressed in on me from all sides. Sadness. Anger. Rage. Hate. And even shame.
I should have run over there and confronted him. Taken a picture with my phone. Posted it on TikTok for the whole world to see the pig as a pig.
But, as if my body wasn’t my own, I jumped back on my bike and hit the pedals as fast as I could.
What the hell was I doing, riding off like a coward? I should have gone back there. Punched him in the face. Screamed at her that he was a married man. With kids. Who betrayed his mute wife and dropped her like she was trash.
But I didn’t.
The road in front of me turned blurry as tears burned in my eyes. The wind bashed mercilessly against my face as I thundered my bike past stores and homes.
I hated him. I fucking hated this man so much.
The familiar oak trees on my street came into view. I took the back alley, where the trash trucks collected bins, to avoid any lingering camera crews.
When I made it to the back door, I didn’t lean my bike against the wall; I just tossed it. No. Smashed it to the ground. It made a metallic clink, and the bell broke off, but I didn’t care.
I walked to the door. My hand was already reaching for the handle when I froze.
I needed to calm the hell down. Ethan and Lila were in there. Most likely coloring with Anna, their babysitter. They asked for Mom day and night. All while Dad had completely abandoned us. Just like he did back then when Mimi and Poppydied. He spiraled instantly after losing his parents. And not in the usual way of grief—in some psycho way that would torch the whole world so it would suffer with him.
I’d been too young to make sense of all the details, but there were certain things I still remembered even now. Like when our neighbor rang the bell in the morning to tell us that Dad was passed out in his boxers on the front lawn, and the sprinkler was soaking him. Or the time Mom begged him to stay home, and he grabbed her by the wrist and threw her out of his way. To get more booze.
It took everything my mom had in her to save him. But, in the end, she pulled off the impossible. She got Dad sober. Got him on some pills or something and into treatment. All while she was nine months pregnant with Lila, all while attending college and working a real job.
However, unlike my mom—who seemed to see something in him I didn’t—I always knew he was a ticking time bomb. And today I understood that better than I ever had before.
I took a deep breath and steadied my shaking hands as best I could. Wiped the tears out of my eyes with my sleeve. Then I went inside.
But instead of Anna doing arts and crafts with the kids at the kitchen table, I found Lila on the couch, her eyes glued to the screen as the fast-moving lights from the TV reflected off her face.
I looked around. The living room was in total chaos. Toys and snacks were scattered everywhere. I picked up a stuffed unicorn and a fire truck.
“Where’s Anna?” I asked.
“She left,” Lila said, still staring at the screen as if hypnotized. Which she was. We kids and screens.
“She just left?” I sounded as outraged as I was. Lila instantly looked at me, her eyes wide with worry. Maybe thinking she’d done something wrong.
She nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said, like the good girl she always was. Always taking the blame even if she wasn’t at fault.
“It’s not your fault,” I said gently. “Where is Ethan?”
Lila jumped up from the couch. “He was playing over there.” She pointed at the area where I had just picked up the fire truck.
A loud thud echoed from upstairs. Both of us froze for a second, then we thundered up the stairs.
