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“Your mother said you’re sleeping over at the neighbor’s house.”
The blood drains from my face. In a rush, I jump out of bed and run to the kitchen. Alexander is sitting on his couch with his laptop and a coffee cup in his hands. I take a mental picture of how hot he looks in the early morning light.
“Well, did Mom tell you why?” I respond.
Alex tilts his head in question at my conversation. I just shake my head at him.
“I’m staying in his guest bedroom because I can’t stand to be in that house anymore, Dad. I can’t be around her anymore.”
“What the fuck did she do?” my dad asks, sounding exasperated. I’m still waking up, but now I can make out the sound of his car in the background and realize that he’s on the road somewhere. Whatever effort he put into calling me was just enough to put in while driving.
“Don’t worry about it,” I mumble. I’m not protecting my mom. I just don’t need the added anxiety. If I tell him what she did, then he’ll get involved. And it’s prolonging something that I just want buried in my past.
“So what? You’re sleeping with Alexander Caldwell now?”
I flinch at the accusation in my dad’s tone.
“We’re just friends, Dad.”
Alexander’s eyes are on me, and I avoid his gaze as I defend our relationship—our strange, undefinable relationship.
“Well, I don’t know how I feel about you sleeping in a strange man’s house. I know Caldwell, Sunny. He’s not the kind of guy you leave your nineteen-year-old daughter with.”
“I’m twenty, Dad.” Staring out at the pool, I feel Alex’s presence behind me, putting his hand on my shoulder.
“Well, whatever, Sunny. Same thing. I think you should go make up with your mom. Whatever she did, I’m sure you had a part in it, and you two need to figure it out.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Alexander mutters from behind me, hearing my dad’s voice blaring across the line. Before I know it, the phone is out of my hand.
“Listen here, asshole. Your daughter showed up in my house at midnight with a shiner on the side of her face that she got from her mother.”
“Alex!” I shriek, trying to take my phone back. I hear my dad raging on the other end.
“Be a fucking man and take care of your family, you piece of shit.” In a huff, he tosses my phone onto the couch and stomps off, seething with anger. The tiny sound of my dad’s voice raving from the phone calls for me, and I turn toward it to pick it up, but something stops me. I should stop chasing his love. I should storm off beside Alex and stick up for myself, but I’m frozen in place.
I hate that I pick the phone up, but I do.
“Dad, I’m sorry.”
“Who does that fucking asshole think he is?” he barks at me, making my throat sting with oncoming tears. “He has no right talking to me like that. Sunny, you get your ass out of that house—do you hear me? Go home and stay the fuck away from Alexander Caldwell. Has he tried anything with you yet? I swear if I find out he touched my little girl, I’ll kill him.”
“Dad, I’m just working for him. Painting a mural in his pool house. He hasn’t tried anything. He’s just helping me.”
“You’re what? Painting his pool house? What kind of idiot can’t paint—”
“Dad, he hired me to paint one of my paintings on his wall. It’s…never mind,” I stammer. Trying to explain my art to my dad feels about as good as peeling my own skin off.
“Just go home, Sunny.” I can hear the anger in his voice, but it doesn’t penetrate anymore.
“Okay, Dad,” I lie.
“I have a meeting, Sunny. I hate having to deal with this shit while I’m trying to work. Just keep your shit together, okay? And for fuck’s sake, go home.”
Before I can say goodbye, the line goes dead.
When I turn around, Alex has his running clothes on. A pair of shorts without a shirt, looking good enough to eat. The seasoned flecks of gray in his growing beard have my mind almost completely forgetting about the fight with my dad.
“Your dad really is an asshole,” he mumbles as he grabs his earbuds off the entryway table.
