The Anti-Boyfriend

by Ward, Penelope

  “Well, I’d better get back inside.”

  “Yeah. Go have fun with your brother. Try not to let this ruin your night.”

  Fat chance. “Alright, man. Take care.”

  After that, it was impossible to think about anything but Carys. Whether she was moving on with her ex or not, it was inevitable that I’d lose her for good. I’d sealed that fate the day I walked out of her life.

  CHAPTER 25

  Deacon

  HINDSIGHT IS TWENTY-TWENTY

  Since arriving in Minnesota, I’d avoided being alone with my father. I’d gone over to my parents’ for dinner but left before Dad had a chance to corner me. He hadn’t said anything hurtful yet, but I dreaded encountering the version of him I remembered—the one who did nothing but criticize me. I didn’t need him making me feel inadequate when I already felt pretty damn shitty since leaving Carys the way I did.

  It appeared I could only hide for so long, though. I was shoveling snow outside my grandmother’s house one day when I looked up to see my Dad’s red truck.

  Sticking the shovel into the snow, I leaned on it as I watched him approach. He reached over to brush some snow off my coat, and I felt my eyes widen. It was rare my father touched me. Aside from the brief hug I’d given him when I first arrived here, there had been no other contact—no handshakes or pats on the back.

  I stepped back. “What’s up, Dad?”

  “I figured you weren’t going to come see me anytime soon, so I’d better find you.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been pretty busy helping Gram around here.”

  He looked down at the long path I’d cleared. “I can see that.”

  I resumed digging. “How’s Mom?”

  Cold air billowed from Dad’s mouth. “She’s good. She wishes you’d come by more.”

  My shovel scraped against the concrete. “I’ll have to visit soon.”

  “Anyway…” he said. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

  Here it is. I was about to be lectured about throwing my life away and squandering my potential by continuing to work in a field where my income was limited. Somehow he’d figure out a way to tie in my past mistakes, and I’d regret ever coming home. This was precisely what I’d been avoiding like the plague since I’d gotten here.

  “So, a few weeks back, I noticed some blood in my semen,” he began.

  What?

  “I had some tests done, and it turns out I have prostate cancer.”

  I froze, hanging on to the shovel for balance. I finally made eye contact with him. “Cancer?”

  “I have to start radiation. They think it’s small enough that they can treat it, but it’s not exactly at the earliest stage. It’s stage Two B, so the doctor’s recommendation is treating it aggressively. But the prognosis is good.”

  It felt like the world around me was spinning. My father had always been the epitome of health and strength. If this could happen to him, it could happen to anyone.

  “Does Alex know?”

  “He does, but I specifically asked him not to mention anything. I wanted to be the one to tell you. I kept waiting for you to show up at the house, and you never did. So I needed to tell you before I start treatment in a couple of days.”

  A couple of days?

  I sucked in a large dose of frosty air. “I’m sorry, Dad. Obviously if I had known I—”

  “I know.” He looked up at the sky, then back at me. “Look…I know things have not been the best between us for a long time—too long. I take full blame for that. No matter how disappointed I may have been with how things turned out, you’re still my son. I should’ve put you before my feelings. This whole cancer thing has forced me to reflect on my life, and unfortunately, I’m seeing more mistakes than I can count.”

  The blame wasn’t all his. “I ran away. You can’t work on a relationship with someone who’s not there. It’s not all your fault. I made it nearly impossible.”

  “For a long time, I didn’t feel there was anything more important in life than my career—than football. There’s nothing like facing your mortality to make you realize that’s bullshit.”

  Things were getting pretty surreal. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty, I guess.”

  Dad stared down at his boots and kicked at the snow. “I should’ve paid more attention to your pain after the accident,” he said, looking up at me again. “I shouldn’t have been caught up in what it meant for me. I’d only ever dreamed of you making it to the NFL. All I wanted was for you to be successful. I was devastated and didn’t know how to handle it. So I shut down, and I screwed up by staying silent all these years. You probably assumed I was disappointed in you, but as the years passed, the only one I’ve been disappointed in is myself.”

  While it was validating to hear him say that, this was no time for him to be feeling guilty.

  “It’s okay, Dad. I don’t want you worrying about all that right now. It’s in the past. You need to focus on the present and getting better. Stress can do a lot of harm.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t realize then that success can’t be measured by accolades or money. Because when you die, you can’t take those things with you. In the end, all I have is my family. I need to work on mending those relationships, not only with you, but with your mother and brother. But especially with you.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Dad. I’m in shock. This was the last thing I expected to hear.”

  “You don’t have to say anything.” He sighed. “Well, that’s not true. Say you’ll come to the house for dinner tonight. Say we’ll get to spend some time together before I have to start this treatment shit.”

  Suddenly, it seemed like the least I could do. “Of course. Yeah.”

  My father and I had so much history, but all of that went out the window the second I realized I might lose him. Sure, his odds of survival were good, but I couldn’t escape the reminder that I didn’t have forever to make amends.

  * * *

  Over the next couple of weeks, I spent a great deal of time with my father. While he insisted we talk some about the past, it was thankfully limited. Mostly, we just worked on getting to know each other better. So some of it was stressful, but there were good moments in the mix, like late-night games of cards and, ironically, Parcheesi.

  My mother, Alex, and I took turns taking my dad to his radiation appointments. He’d taken a leave of absence from his coaching job and was now considering early retirement.

  During one of the treatment visits, he and I sat together in the waiting room. “Why are you here?” he suddenly asked me.

  “What are you talking about? I’m here to support you.”

  “I didn’t mean here. I mean, why are you in Minnesota and not back in New York? You loved living there, right? Surely you’re not getting accustomed to a new life as your grandmother’s servant?”

  Looking down into my coffee, I chuckled.

  “You can talk to me,” he said. “What happened?”

  Silence settled over us as I contemplated whether to tell him the truth.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Do I look like I have somewhere to go? Talk to me.”

  If someone had told me a few months ago that the first person I’d open up to about Carys would be my father, I wouldn’t have believed it. I downed the last of my coffee before crushing the cup and throwing it into a nearby trash can. “I broke up with someone I care about very much. I didn’t know how to face her every day. So I left. It was cowardly, but I didn’t feel like I had a choice. She lived right next door to me.”

  Over the next several minutes, I told him all about Carys, Sunny, and the accident. At least by choosing to open up to my father, I didn’t have to explain how my past related to my present. He understood full well where I was coming from and why I’d freaked out.

  “You know…” he said, “Fear of failure is a powerful thing. I always feared failing in my career. I definitely failed as a father, but that didn’t seem to matter as much to me a
decade ago. I see things in a different light now.”

  “I never really looked at my problem as a fear of failure,” I said.

  “But it is. Your fear is of failing people, harming people. You have to ask yourself if you really deserve a life sentence for something that happened when you were practically a kid and wasn’t entirely your fault.”

  “You know how I feel about that.”

  “I know what you’ve made yourself believe, but it’s time to stop blaming yourself.”

  “You were angry with me for so many years,” I said. “I’m surprised you’re telling me you don’t think it was my fault.”

  “I might have been angry that it happened, but never once did I feel like you were in the wrong. That other car was going too fast, and it was a foggy night. You were momentarily distracted, trying to get where you needed to go. You weren’t drunk. You weren’t being reckless. Even if you hadn’t been using the navigation device and your reflexes had kicked in faster, you don’t know that you could have stopped what happened.”

  “If you felt that way, why did you act like you blamed me?”

  “Because I was bitter at life. I expressed that through my treatment of you, and I’m very sorry for that, son. It wasn’t fair. I’m sorry I didn’t say all of this sooner.”

  Resting my head on the wall behind my seat, I let out a long breath. “The accident with Carys… It felt like the same nightmare all over again.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it did. But no one was hurt. So there had to have been more to your decision to flee New York than the accident?”

  “It wasn’t so much the accident as it was what the accident represented. It made me feel like I couldn’t be trusted to keep them safe. And the responsibility of a child is just so…huge. Literally, her life was in my hands—not only that day, but it would’ve been every day thereafter. So many opportunities to fuck up.”

  “So you’d rather someone else raise this child you clearly care about, take care of the woman you love, because you’re scared to mess up? I got news for ya, that’s a good way to waste your life. And let me tell you, if you ever find yourself with a health scare like mine, you’re gonna wish you had taken life by the horns and let yourself love the ones you cared about when you had the chance. It wouldn’t be much fun for me to be alone right now. All I have is my family. I took your mother for granted for a long time. But she’s been my rock through all this, despite some rough years together. Where would I be without her—and without you and your brother—taking turns sitting with me so I don’t have to be alone?”

  I turned to him. “I’m glad I can be here for you right now.”

  “You’ve paid your dues. I’d rather you go back to being there for you.”

  “I can’t leave you like this.”

  “Sure, you can. You can keep tabs on me through Mom. I’m just a flight away if you need to come home again. Don’t use me as an excuse to hide from things you haven’t dealt with. You have to go back to New York eventually. You’re going to have to face her sooner or later.”

  Would I? Or would I just give up the apartment and move somewhere else so I didn’t have to see Carys on a daily basis?

  “I think she might be letting her daughter’s father back into her life. I don’t trust him. But I feel like I don’t trust myself either.”

  “You hit the nail on the head. You don’t trust yourself. Faith in oneself is a risk. You need to accept that anything worth having is going to come with the risk of loss. Maybe the reason you haven’t been able to deal with things now is because you’ve never dealt with the past. You ran away instead.”

  “How do I deal with the past now? It’s been a decade.”

  “Maybe you need to see Becca, see how she’s handling life.”

  My ex and I had grown apart quickly after the accident. She chose to end things, and I left town. But I’d thought about her a lot over the years. Only the more time that passed, the harder it became to make contact.

  Maybe my father was right. Maybe somehow I needed to hear that she was okay.

  “Thank you for the advice, Dad. I’ll think about it.”

  * * *

  That night, I searched for Becca’s name on social media.

  She was the first Becca Henderson to pop up, since we had a few mutual friends. I took some time to look through her photos. Her familiar face—dusted with freckles and framed by her long brown hair—took me back almost instantly. Because we weren’t “friends” on here, I could only see a few images, and most of them were from years ago. One was a photo of Becca and a black lab. There were no real clues about her life now. While I’d heard through the grapevine that she still lived around here, I didn’t know much else. I had no idea where her house was, as we hadn’t met until we were both attending school in Iowa.

  I took a deep breath and hit the friend-request button.

  That would be a start. If she ignored my request, that would be the end of it. But if she accepted, maybe she’d be receptive to a conversation. I closed out of the app and opened my email to catch up on some work stuff. A few minutes later, I got a notification that Becca had accepted my friend request.

  Wow.

  Okay, then.

  She didn’t send me a message or post on my page, so I took that as my cue to make the first move. I clicked on the button on her profile to message her. I typed and deleted several times before settling on a simple message.

  Hey, Becca. It’s been a long time. How are things?

  Then I waited anxiously for the response, hoping the answer was positive, and more than that, hoping she didn’t hate me.

  CHAPTER 26

  Carys

  THE TEXT

  This was a huge day. It would be the first time I let Charles see Sunny without me being there, too. The plan seemed innocent enough. He’d brought his kids to my apartment, and they would be hanging out for a couple of hours.

  Talia and Xavier had recently met Sunny for the first time. Today was their third visit. The kids had really taken to her, and Sunny liked them. Allowing them to meet seemed to be one of the rare good decisions I’d made this past year.

  So with Sunny occupied by Charles and his kids, I was off to run a couple of errands and take a breather. I had mixed feelings about leaving her alone with them, but Charles had earned back a bit of my trust in the past few months. While I wouldn’t trust him with my heart again, I knew he was a responsible father to his two other kids. I had no reason to fear for Sunny’s safety while in his care.

  And also? Mama needed a breather. I mainly had a babysitter for when I worked, so taking an hour for myself was like a dream at this point. So when Charles had offered, I caved, though I didn’t venture very far. I ran to the drugstore down the street to take my time shopping for toiletries, then stopped at a café around the corner. I’d be close by if Charles needed me to come back.

  As I sipped my coffee in a cozy corner seat, I scrolled through my phone and did something I probably shouldn’t have. The gaming app Deacon’s company created had been installed on my phone for some time. It felt like my only connection to him. From time to time, I’d look to see what new games had been created, knowing he’d had a hand in designing them. Sometimes I’d play them. Yes, I know that’s pathetic. But it felt like a safe way to remember Deacon without having to actually interact with him.

  As I flipped through the character choices in the new game, something stopped me in my tracks. One of the main characters looked different—yet markedly familiar to me. She was beautiful, just like my Sunny, and looked as if she had Down syndrome. Her name was Autumn.

  I didn’t know how long ago Deacon had designed her, before our breakup or after, but this discovery made my heart feel heavier than it had in a while.

  * * *

  A few nights later, Sharon arrived to babysit. Sick to my stomach from nerves, I’d just gotten dressed and ready to venture out on my first official date since getting my heart broken. I’d decided to accept a casual dinner in
vitation from a guy I’d met online. If I didn’t push myself to move on from Deacon, I never would. Maybe at some point it would feel natural and not forced, but it certainly didn’t yet. Fake it till you make it.

  “You look gorgeous, Carys,” Sharon told me. “Are you meeting this guy somewhere safe?”

  “Yeah. Of course. Taking an Uber to the restaurant and Ubering straight home.”

  “Good.” She smiled. “Don’t worry about Sunny and me. You have a good time.”

  At almost two, Sunny was starting to say more words, pointing to things a lot and saying “that.” A new speech therapist came to the house twice a week to work with her on language, and I did my best to repeat the words I believed she was trying to say whenever the opportunity presented itself. Sunny and I had also learned sign language to help her communicate until she was able to sound out more words.

  “Mama will be back, okay?”

  My girl reached her arms out to me and started to cry. “No, Mama.”

  She’d become more attached to me than ever lately, maybe the result of the greater awareness that came with growing into a toddler.

  Guilt followed me out the door as I made my way into the car waiting outside. During the ride, I looked out the window, which was covered in raindrops. A sadness that seemed to match the dreary weather came over me. I should’ve been happy about going on this date. But I missed Deacon, longed to be in his arms, and knew that would never happen again. Grief definitely comes in waves, and mine always seem to hit at the most inopportune times.

  Once at the restaurant, I discovered that my date, Peter, had secured a candlelit table in the corner.

  He stood as I approached, and his eyes went wide. “Carys, you’re even more beautiful in person.” He practically drooled. “Wow.”

  “Thank you.”

  Peter was handsome—not drop-dead gorgeous like Deacon, but attractive enough. Enough. Would that be the story of my life now? Attractive enough. Good enough. At this point, if you were decent looking and a decent person, you had a shot with me. Because that meant you were a safe distraction, something I’d desperately needed since Deacon walked out of my life.