Three Times Torn

by Felisha Antonette

  I stare at my father, swallowing down the extensive list of cuss words tickling my tongue. Grumbling, I grab Nathan’s arm and pull him with me from the room. Dad stalks after us, and I slam the door in his face.

  Nathan opens the door to the hallway, chuckling as he says, “You shouldn’t do that, Ladybug.”

  “Not funny,” I snip.

  “It’s okay, just her dad. You two can go back to class,” Nathan tells Glen and Scott. “I’ll meet you in the truck after we see what he wants,” he says to Olar.

  I shake my head. “We’re not seeing what he wants.”

  “Sparks, you will see what he wants.”

  “He’s right, Tracey.” I whip around to Dad crossing his arms.

  Nathan moves from in front of him to my side.

  “Dad, I am not moving,” I relay as nicely as I can.

  “Tracey, I didn’t come here to discuss this with you. I called you down because I was here and wouldn’t leave without at least saying hello.”

  “Hello. And. Goodbye,” I mutter under my breath, averting. Nathan grabs my arm and nods toward Dad. I roll my eyes, turning back to face him.

  “What type of relationship is this you two have here?” Dad asks, noticing Nathan’s silent convincing.

  “What are you asking?” I fire back.

  “He’s better at convincing you to talk to me than I am at asking.”

  “So what?” I snort, shrugging.

  Dad shifts his attention to Nathan, face morphing with anger only an enemy can conjure out of him. I’ve never seen Dad this hostile. “What are you doing to her?” he demands. The vigilance in his tone startles me.

  “I’m sorry?” Nathan blurts, taking full offense to Dad’s accusation.

  “What,” Dad emphasizes, “have you done, and what are you doing to my daughter?”

  “Excuse me, sir? I’ve done nothing to your daughter,” Nathan relays calmly. “We’re together. And to answer your question, the type of relationship we have is one that’s lasting. Speaking of. . .” Nathan rubs his hand over his beard, biting down hard on his bottom lip. I watch it lighten from the pressure and then fill with color as he lets it go.

  Dad folds his arms, and with a look of warning, dares Nathan’s challenging stall.

  It doesn’t take much to get Nathan angry these days, but he’s always remained respectful when dealing with Dad, even with my father’s blatant disrespect. I doubt today’s the day he blows a gasket. Defusing, Nathan half-nods, giving Dad the floor.

  “This. . .” Dad points his index finger between Nathan and me. “Is only temporary.”

  “No, sir. I can assure you we are permanent.”

  Dad leers at Nathan, slightly tilting his head left. “And how can you be so sure?”

  Nathan pulls his arms behind his back, clasping his hardening hands together. “Doesn’t matter,” he says with a shrug to his right shoulder. “It is.” Dad’s eyes bulge. Nathan’s brow hitches in a single up-down flash. It’s obvious he’s had enough of Dad’s patronizing but doesn’t want to make things worse.

  Dad turns his attention to me. “When you get home, your stuff will be packed, and we will be moving tomorrow morning. So”—He flicks his gaze to Nathan—“make sure you tell your friends goodbye.” He turns on his heels and walks back into the principal’s office.

  “Argh!” I grumble, throwing my head back. “He’s losing it!” I can’t figure out what is wrong with him. This is nothing like him; he’s so much better than this. Nicer than this! “What has gotten into him?!”

  Nathan grabs me, rubbing his hands up and down my arms. “Calm down.”

  I calm with his contact giving me no other choice. “We need to talk to my mom.” I fist Nathan’s shirt and try to pull him with me down the hall, but he doesn’t budge.

  “Umm, Sparks.” He pries his now wrinkled shirt from my clutch. “You still have class.”

  “That’s going to have to wait. I need to talk to my mom. She can fix this.”

  NATHAN AND I ARGUE for ten minutes about my leaving school. Promising I’ll stay in my classes all day tomorrow without bothering him, he caves. We drop Olar off at Nathan’s house, and he drives me to Mom’s job in the city.

  “Mom!” I bust into her office like I own the spot.

  She screeches, startled. “Tracey!” she exclaims breathlessly, hand flown to her chest. “What is going on? You scared me.”

  “Mom, you have to talk to Dad. We cannot move! You know you don’t want to move. Mom, please!”

  She looks from me to Nathan and gives him her warm smile. “Hello, Nathan,” she greets humbly.

  “Hey, Karen.”

  I’m amazed at how well Nathan and Mom get along. The three of us have spent so much time together over the last few months, talking, catching the latest movies, in and out for dinner. Nathan’s even cooked for her. It’s nice, the time we spend together. I just wish my Dad would concede to this reality.

  Shifting her gaze back to me, Mom narrows her eyes in a way that relays I’m up to no good. “Tracey, why aren’t you in school?”

  “Mom!”

  “Tracey!” she mocks my whine.

  “Ugh,” I sigh, frustrated. “Dad is at my school talking to my principal. He said he was discussing my options because we are moving in the morning!”

  “Tracey, your father, is not here,” she objects. “I would have been the first to know if he was.”

  “Mom, yes he is!” I argue. “We just left him. He told me we’re moving tomorrow morning,” I say again, louder and traumatized.

  “Honey, I just got off the phone with your father. He has been in meetings all day. What are you talking about?”

  I throw my hands up. “Yeah, I know! Meeting with Principal Hollander.”

  Mom leans over her desk; palms firmly planted on the glossy oak wood. Behind her is a large window covered by wood blinds that match her desk. The slits in them allow the bright sun to break through, sending thin beams of light slicing through her office. “Listen to me, Tracey,” she drawls as she stands, beams dancing on her burgundy bloud. “Your father is not in town, and we are not moving tomorrow. We promised we would wait until you graduate. Did you fall asleep during class?” she asks, concerned.

  No, I did not fall asleep in class. In another attempt to tell Mom, again, Dad is here; Nathan grabs my wrist, stopping me. “Excuse me, but you said you just spoke with him right?”

  “Yes,” she answers. “Not ten minutes ago. He was complaining about how you’re still ignoring him because of the things he said about—.” She catches herself, realizing she’s bringing Nathan into it.

  “Don’t be embarrassed, Mom, he already knows.”

  Her eyes widen as she looks at me then turn sorry when she glances at him. “I’m sorry, Nathan. It’s not that we don’t think you are a good kid, we just want what’s best for Tracey.”

  Nathan offers her a kind smile. “Me too. We’re sorry to barge in on you like this. We’re going to head out.”

  “What?” I blurt. “No, we aren’t. Mom, you—”

  “Sparks,” he cuts me off. “Your mom just said it. Your dad isn’t here.”

  “He’s not, honey. Would you like me to call him for you?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Nathan blows a frustrated breath. I fix him with a piercing glare, relaying my demand for his patience while we figure this out. Ignoring him and his sudden urgency to leave, I watch Mom dial Dad on speaker.

  “Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” Dad answers after the line rang twice.

  “Dad?”

  “Hey, Ladybug,” he sings cheerfully, voice matching that of my father’s.

  I knit my brows, moving closer to the phone. “What are you doing? Where are you?”

  “Closing on this deal in Memphis. We just had the best meeting! I think we have the closing deal in the bag, Ladybug!” His enthusiasm and excitement for this deal are present in his voice. He continues expressing his enjoyment about the benefit of havi
ng his partner Robert with him and the friendliness of the men he’d met with just under an hour ago.

  Dragging my gaze away from the phone to Mom, I give her a questioning look. Her brows jump up and then fall, as if to say, see, told you, honey. How can Dad be there and here at the same time? “Uh,” I stutter. “Okay, Dad. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

  “Love you too, Ladybug. Hold it, young lady. Why aren’t you in school?”

  “Bye, Dad.” I reach across Mom’s desk and press the speaker button to hang up her phone.

  “We need to go, Sparks.” Nathan grabs the crux of my arm. “Bye, Karen. See you later.”

  “See you two later,” she calls behind us.

  “What am I missing?” I ask, pulling on my seatbelt.

  Nathan shoves the key in his Truck’s ignition but doesn’t start it. “That was not your father at your school.” He pulls out his phone and slides and taps on it before bringing it to his ear. “Go back to the office and see if Tracey’s father is still there.” He listens to Scott say something I can’t make out. “Now!” Nathan blurts. “Walk in!” He states with aggression. “Call Olar. Don’t let him leave. I’ll be there shortly. If I’m not back before you can no longer hold him off, handle it.” He drops the phone in the cup holder and peels out of the parking lot. Gripping the steering wheel too tightly, he’s crushing it under his clutch. Realizing it, he quickly releases his vice grip, just pressing his palms to the wheel’s sides. “If I destroy another vehicle of mine, shit is going to get real,” he snarls through his teeth.

  “Okay?” I let down the window, bringing in some air for him.

  “It’s not your father, Sparks.”

  “Then who is it?” I follow.

  “Not sure yet,” he fires back.

  I sit forward in my seat, frustratingly asking, “Well, how do we find out?”

  “We get there and ask,” he shoots back.

  I panic. “But what if this imposter man leaves before we get there?”

  “Sparks!” he shouts.

  “What?”

  “What is with all the questions?” he asks aggressively, hand slapping the steering wheel.

  “Hey!” I shout. “Don’t yell at me. I’m just trying to understand what the hell is going on.”

  He shakes his head, blowing an irritated breath from his nose. I slouch in the seat, angry with myself for feeding into his mood and irritated with him for not being able to control it.

  Petty arguing has become our way of life lately. There’s just too much going on right now: built up aggression, irritation, and frustration. If something in our lives would work out in our favor, we’d be calmer, but if it’s not one thing, it’s another. Roehl, Taylor, Dad, my adjusting to this new world, and Nathan’s juggling being himself and being the guy for me. The bond’s changed him. The bond is changing him.

  Nathan’s this bad ass ‘I only care about myself, but I’m obligated to care about my family’ person. The real him isn’t at all the “relationship” type, but the bond makes him into one, and he struggles with it. I’d give him his space, but that’s very, very difficult because of the bonding.

  It takes us thirty minutes to make it back to my school, and Nathan’s phone rings every second. At some point, Glen had gotten involved in stalling my imposter father. And he’s stayed put, listening to her after graduation plans. Nathan parks in front of the double brown doors in the rear lot. I jump out and rush into the building.

  Olar, Scott, Glen, and my not dad take up the hallway, blocking the office door.

  What’s the plan? I ask Nathan.

  Talk to him, act like you know nothing. Get that eye thing going on where you can see who people really are. See behind the mask. I’ll see it with you and if anything happens, stay calm. I’m right here.

  I step to Glen’s side, and she stops jabbering to ask, “You okay, Cey?”

  “Yeah.” I nod for her to let me handle it. She steps back to Scott, eyes pierced on the imposter.

  An uneasy feeling slinks over me when I meet eyes that should belong to my father. It starts at my neck and vastly works its way to my fingertips. I scrape my short nails down my arm, wishing it would get his stealthy presence off me. Shifting my gaze to the floor, I mutter, “Sorry about earlier, Dad. That was unnecessary.”

  He grins. “That’s quite alright, Ladybug.” The name sounds forced; it’s not at all comfortable like my real dad’s calling. “Once we get moved, you’ll be better. Everything will work out fine.”

  I straighten my spine and slip my hands into my back pockets. “No, Dad. Everything’s already working out.”

  He steps closer, separating our bodies by only inches instead of feet. Holding my ground, I blink, trying to get the thin film to cover my eyes. It helps me to see if someone’s blocking or disguising themselves. But sometimes I can’t control it, and a defense covers them, cloaking my entire eyes black. The thicker film tints my sight in a way sunglasses would and forces me to see not only who they truly are, but also what their true intentions may be for what they want to do to me. Or what they desire to accomplish. Though, in real life, the person will be at ease and still. The hallucinations I used to have. . . They’re just like this, and it’s beginning to worry me. This ability makes me literally feel like I’m losing my mind. A freak of the worst kind.

  “Now, Ladybug, we’ll work on that.” His tight cheeks lift with his genuine smile. “We can talk more on the flight out in the morning. I have a few more things I need to bring together tonight.” He pivots and I grab his shoulder. “Dad, wait!”

  Slowly, he veers, meeting my eyes. I blink and his image flashes, exposing a different man before me. It disappears. I blink twice more before it stays.

  Pitch-black eyes bore into mine. They remind me of Justin’s with the emptiness in their depths. His straight black hair and stained, blacken lips are nothing of any creature I’ve seen. His hand rises, drawing attention to his sharp, black nails as he scuffs his chin where Dad’s beard would be. His face is stone smooth, and skin’s a gray to match. The imposter smiles. Sharpened off-white teeth bite into his thin bottom lip. His dreary, black eyes travel me over as his nostrils flare on his pointed nose. Satisfaction eases his tense expression as he inhales. His Mmm is nearly inaudible, but with these ears, I hear his pleasure filled groan clearly. Shaking it off, he quips, “What’s going on, Tracey? I have somewhere I need to be shortly. Just a minute ago, you wanted nothing to do with me and were slamming doors in my face. I’ll be having a talk with your mother about this as well.”

  I can’t speak, watching the monster talk to me with Dad’s voice. Nathan grabs my hand, bringing me back. I clear my throat and mutter, “Umm. Just sorry.” I force myself to blink, and he’s Dad again.

  He gleams from ear to ear, admiration evident in his voice as he says, “That’s quite alright, Ladybug. See you at home.” He averts, walking toward the rears doors.

  Nathan nods to Olar and Olar leaves, following my fake dad.

  “Hybrid,” Nathan whispers next to my ear. “Wait here. We’ll be right back.”

  Glen and I meet in the middle of the hall, watching Nathan and Scott flank Olar. “They sure look good walking away on business; charged up and all,” Glen admires.

  I turn away from her, looking down the hall at our guys. “Yeah,” I second. “He does,” I add, thinking about the way Nathan’s back would look if his shirt weren’t present. He’s so freaking attractive; it should be illegal to be this enthralled by someone. This is so out of character for me, and I hate myself for being this way. But I love to love it . . . and him.

  Flesh pounding jabs spike in my hearing. A body slamming against the truck or the school building shortly follows it, and then two doors slam. Nathan’s truck speeds off, tires screeching on the pavement. Glen and me race for the back doors. Nathan and Scott reenter the school before we make it. They straighten themselves, looking over their clothes. I know that move too well, searching to ensure there isn’t any blood
stains or proof they’ve just mauled someone. I guess Nathan was at the office. Dressed ‘business casual’ in a gray button-down and creased jeans, he looks as if he might’ve even had a meeting today.

  Scott passes me to Glen, and I continue to Nathan. He looks over my head, attention drawn to something behind me. “I’ll be back to pick you up,” he says.

  I rise on my tiptoes, not coming close to being as in his face as I want. “Where are you going?”

  He tips his chin, finally meeting my eyes. “I need to take care of this issue. See why he came, what he wants, who sent him. And why he was so comfortable.”

  I can understand that, but I hate seeing him go, and I need him like . . . now. But he always has to go.

  “It’s just the bond, Sparky,” he tries to convince.

  “Nathan, everything is not just the bond. You’ve been using that excuse too much lately. Every time I tell you I need you, you’re all it’s just the bond, Sparky,” I mock. “It’s not. I seriously miss you, and it does kill me seeing you leave. Little pieces of me slowly die and drown in space, never to be revived.”

  He laughs at me. “Sparks, we slept together last night, and we just saw each other four hours ago before I dropped you off at school, I’ve come up here twice today, and we were just together less than fifteen minutes ago.”

  I grimace. “Okay. So, it may be the bond. But still, Nate.”

  “Okay. You want me to come to class with you?” he chaffs, pursing his lips.

  “No,” I grump, crossing my arms.

  His big hands wrap around my shoulders, squeezing them. He asks, “Then what do you want?”

  “I guess nothing.”

  His hands fall to his sides. “I’m going. See you later.”