Page 73
Last night while we were hanging out, I told him about how things were going with Lev and how we talked about being exclusive. In true Ryan fashion, he made a few dick jokes and then told me he was happy for me.
“You sure you’re good with going?” Ryan asks. “I know sometimes the memories can be . . . tough.”
I smiled earnestly at him. “Thank you for checking, but yeah. It’s one of the only normal things that I still have around here. We went every year as a family until my brother died. After that, I think my parents went that first year and then not again. I always go and feel like I always will. I won’t let the shit of everything else take that from me too.”
“Cool.” That’s all Ryan needs to say.
The two of us just lie around talking and watching movies for most of the day. Midafternoon, I say goodbye to Ryan and head home.
It’s chilly, and there’s that amazing oddly eerie feel of fall to the air. I love this time of year. Nate and I used to stay out way too late and long, playing until our noses were red and running and our lips were chapped and cracked. I smile at the memory as I unlock the front door and go inside.
To my surprise, my dad is sitting in the living room, watching a baseball game with a drink in his hand. This isn’t what I wanted to deal with today, so I say a quick hi and start to head up the stairs. He stops me, of course.
“Darian, I was hoping we could talk.” I pause halfway up the stairs and sigh loudly, my back to him. “Please come join me.”
Resigned to the fact that I can’t always ignore my parents, especially since my dad is sitting right here, I turn around and walk back down the stairs. I collapse onto the couch. I already know that this conversation is going to be just like nearly every other conversation we’ve tried to have in the last several years. We can’t just talk anymore. It always ends in insults or frustration—mainly on my end. My dad hasn’t been innocent in it all, either.
He starts again. “I don’t like the way things ended with us last time I was here.”
I chuff and make a point to roll my eyes, but don’t say anything.
My dad takes a drink of the amber liquid he’s holding, the ice clinking against the glass. He licks his lips. “I know we haven’t been a normal family for years now.”
I bite my tongue, trying to stay silent, but I’m losing the battle inside myself.
“Your mom and I have tried to put this behind us.”
My foot starts tapping on the floor, and my fingers are drumming on my thigh. I glance around the room, noticing the photos and things I haven’t taken a serious look at for a while. I do everything I can to not look at him.
“You haven’t always made it easy for us to move on, and that’s what we’re trying to do, Darian. When your brother died—”
That’s the last straw.
“Stop.” I stand up. My dad stays calm and just looks at me as my heart starts to race. “Just don’t, okay? I have done everything I can to get through these last few years. You and mom just went on your way, pretending that it didn’t happen and that you could just push it behind you. You didn’t do shit to help me or be there for me.” I pound my fist on my chest, tears stinging my eyes.
I start to walk away before I do or say anything that I’ll regret, but he tries again.
“When your brother died, it was too much for us, Darian. The fact that we lost our son—” His voice cracks, and I take my opportunity.
I turn on my dad and face him again. “Yes, you lost your son. You lost one of your sons. ONE. You shut me out and stopped being anything important in my life. You stopped caring about me. You shut me down every time I mention his name, and you STILL DO.” The tears are falling freely now. “You fucking disappeared on me, and our family fell apart! So yes, you lost a son, but you had another one still alive, and you all but forgot about me.”
My father’s face is starting to turn red. “Darian, don’t be ridiculous. Your mother and I—”
“Mom and you what, Dad? WHAT? Couldn’t handle the fact that your prized possession was gone? Couldn’t handle that a son of yours made a shit poor decision and fucked up the entire family? Couldn’t reconcile that the wrong kid died?” I’m yelling now, and tears are pouring down my cheeks. I feel like I might throw up.
“Do NOT talk about your brother that way!” my dad’s voice booms. He winds back and throws the glass at the wall. I watch it shatter into a million pieces as the liquid drips down the wall.
I rarely, maybe fewer times than the number of fingers I have on one hand, remember my dad losing it and yelling like this. I’m getting to him, and I’m okay with that. I stand in place, staring him down. He scrubs a hand down his face and takes a shaky breath.
“It was hard, Darian.” His voice is softer now. Almost resigned. “I had to bury a child. I lost my firstborn son. I had to live with the fact that I didn’t raise him so that he would make better decisions and the fact that I didn’t even know he was doing anything like that! I was so involved in work that I missed that he was making such terrible choices. And then you . . . you fell down that trap, too, Darian. And we didn’t see it. I lost my son. I pray that you never have to deal with that.”
Not that I expected much, but his words don’t offer me any comfort right now. In fact, they just make me hurt more. Since Nate died, he hasn’t said a single thing to make me feel like I matter to him at all. He hasn’t even tried to understand how much I was bleeding out when I lost Nate and then them. How my heart was practically hemorrhaging.
He can’t seem to find the right words tonight. Or ever. At least, not since Nate died.
“Yeah, Dad. I pray I never have to deal with losing a child like you and Mom did. But I can promise you that if I had another child when that happened, I would do everything in my power not to lose them, too.”
My father reacts as if I just slapped him. We stare one another down until I feel like I can’t breathe. Then I storm past him and up the stairs, and I slam my door shut with a dramatic flair. I hear him curse and another thud, like he kicked or pushed the chair over. He doesn’t come to knock or try to have any other conversation with me.
