Surprised?

by Nick Day

  I looked up at Pete, my stomach churning. “Yuck.”

  “Yeah,” he said softly. “This doesn’t look good.”

  “But there’s only one thing to do,” I said. “I have to go.”

  “We have to go,” Pete said. “I’m not letting you go over to that part of town alone. That’s just asking for trouble.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll be okay. Besides, we can’t leave the girls alone here. And we definitely can’t bring them with us.”

  Pete sighed, slowly nodding his head. “Sara, I’m really sorry about what I said before. I know the timing was terrible, I just had an impulse, and . . . ”

  I waved my hand. “Pete, this is terrible timing, too,” I snapped. I got up, grabbed the car keys and headed to the door. But, my pulse racing, I turned back to face him. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but that’s not how I roll. Wow—I thought you knew me better than this.”

  His face turned a dark red like I had never seen, raw emotion pouring out of his eyes and his trembling lips. He stood up to face me. “Sara, this is called friendship. I’m trying to be your best friend right now.” His voice was shaking. “And if you don’t like what you see, then that’s your problem.”

  His words hit me like a ton of bricks, but instead of saying anything I turned and walked out the front door.

  The intersection of Alamo and Peterson looked even worse in person than it did on the Internet. The sky had been taken over by low-hanging clouds as evening set in, which only made it look scarier and dirtier. There was no one around.

  I parked the SUV in front of the Mexican restaurant, and got out. Guadalajara: Just Like Grandma Made It! the neon sign said, blinking on and off. I approached the front door and peered in the window. A high-school-age kid stood behind the counter, staring at nothing. There were no customers inside.

  I groaned, realizing there was only one option left. The motel it is.

  I jogged across the street towards the motel, which seemed to have no name whatsoever. I passed the front door of the lobby and turned into the small parking lot, and there it was: my little blue Corolla parked in front of room eight. The only car in the lot. I stood at the lip of the parking lot, breathing like a scuba diver about to go back down under. The idea of knocking on the door, on discovering Dad doing whatever he was doing . . . it all seemed like too much. Who was he in there with? What could he be up to? There was no way this would end well.

  But my mind flashed back to the diner in Oklahoma. I remembered seeing the happy family in another booth, like they had walked straight out of a commercial. The two kids couldn’t have known how lucky they were to have two parents on their side, in their corner.

  In that moment, I was jealous, because those kids had something I wanted. And though I still felt jealous, I knew now I’d never have a happy couple of parents. I tried to force myself to accept that that kind of normalcy was never going to happen for me.

  But at the same time, I still might be able to have some kind of father in my life, if I cared enough. Though he wasn’t making it easy, I wasn’t ready to give up on Danny Jackson.

  And that’s what moved my right foot forward onto the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. One foot in front of the other, I marched towards the door of room number eight. Right, left, right, left . . .

  I knocked on the wooden door, softly at first. Nothing. I put my ear up toward the door and listened—for music, for the TV, for talking . . . nothing.

  I knocked again, more forcefully this time—rap, rap, rap! I listened again. I heard a voice . . . was it Dad’s? I couldn’t tell what he was saying either. But I knocked again, harder than ever, now that I knew somebody was inside.

  Suddenly I heard, “Okay! Okay!”

  It was definitely Dad’s voice, but the words were coming out of his mouth haltingly and bitterly.

  He thrust open the door, and I immediately recoiled. The air coming out of the dark room reeked, a combination of sweat and alcohol and cigarettes. He was wearing a stained white undershirt and squinted in the light of the outside, such as it was.

  I could barely look at him. I was so disgusted by the smell, by how he looked—by the entire scene.

  “Sara?” he mumbled eventually. It sounded like his mouth was full of cotton balls.

  “Yes,” I said sternly.

  Without saying anything else, he turned back into the room, taking his hand off the door. I slapped my hand onto the door and caught it before it latched closed. I threw it back open and marched inside. You’re not turning your back on me ever again.

  “Hey,” I snapped. “What are you doing here?”

  “Aw, Sara . . . ” he moaned, flopping down on the bed. “I can’t do it anymore. I just can’t. It’s all over.”

  “What are you—”

  I was cut off by a big, earth-shattering sob. Dad arched back and rolled on the bedspread like a colicky baby. His body thrashed and bent around as he cried.

  I watched, unmoved. I wasn’t going to comfort him. Not this time. My eyes searched the room, and I eventually pieced things together. There was a half-empty handle of gin, an empty carton of American Spirits. Two empty beer bottles stood next to another bottle lying on its side, a slow but steady stream of flat yellow beer dribbling onto the carpet.

  “They’re freaking out at your office,” I said. “They have no idea where you are.”

  “I know, I know,” he cried, burying his head under two flimsy pillows.

  “So, what, you’re just hiding out here, drinking?” I asked. He gave me no response. He just buried his head deeper. I tried again. “Why are you running away from everything?”

  I'd had enough. I crossed to his bed and whipped the pillows away, tossing them against the wall. Flinging open the flimsy curtains, I yelled, “Hey! Answer my questions!”

  Dad turned and looked at me, whimpering. We stared at each other like that for a while, neither of us moving a muscle.

  “I don’t deserve to be happy anymore,” he said. “I lost you and your mother. I lost Teresa and the girls. I’m broken.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. He had broken off his first marriage and his second engagement. He had put all three of his daughters into jeopardy, even though Lily and Anna didn’t know it yet.

  But I still didn’t think the Danny I had come to know over the last day, and the Danny I now saw before me, was a bad person. He had made plenty of mistakes, but he also wasn’t the villain I thought he would be. And I knew I had a choice—to kick him while he was down, or to offer him a way up.

  “You’ve screwed up. A lot. With me, with Mom, with Teresa, with the girls . . . ” He groaned, thrashing around on the bed again. “But,” I said sharply, “that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be happy.”

  He looked at me sharply, as if I had just thrown cold water on him. “I’m trying to be patient, but I’m not gonna forgive you, if that’s what you want me to say.”

  “I know that!” he screamed violently. It was a roar of pure rage, and for a minute I thought he might turn violent . . . until he rolled back over and quietly cried again.

  Softly, almost to himself more than to me, he said, “I’m sorry.” Then he said it again, and again, and more times than I could count. “You just met me,” he said, “and this is how you’re seeing me.”

  I sat down on the bed next to him. “I’m not scared of you, and I’m not running away from you. I’m still here . . . for some reason.”

  He looked at me—really looked at me—for the first time since I’d come in.

  “All I know is that there are two girls at home who really want to see their dad,” I said. I saw Dad’s eyes fill up with tears, so I quickly added, “They’re ready to forgive you, because they’re young. But they won’t wait around forever, either. They might not be as patient or as understanding as me, either.”

  Dad nodded slowly, like he was thinking about every word individually. Eventually he stopped, and I knew he’d heard me. “A new chapter st
arts now, Dad. Go take a shower,” I said. “Then we can go home.”

  As he was sobering up in a hot shower, I sat in the dank, musty room. For whatever reason, Pete wandered into my mind. My stomach twisted into a big, fat knot at the thought of him. What was he doing at home right now? Sitting with the girls, trying to keep them happy as he wondered what had happened to their dad? What had happened to me?

  I had to admit it to myself, I couldn’t ask for a better friend than Pete. He volunteered to come on this trip, and though we never knew what was going to happen, the events of the last day were much more stressful and painful than we ever could have imagined. And yet he was still here, doing what he could to help me, Dad, and my sisters.

  I heard my own voice in my head. You’ve done a lot to push us away, but for whatever reason we’re still around. I had just said that to Dad about me. Pete could just as easily say that to me, about him. I was doing nothing but pushing him away.

  It was suddenly clear to me. If I kept pushing him away, I would lose my best friend, my support system, my confidante. Pete had never made my stomach flutter the way it did when Anthony Troy passed by on his longboard. But something told me Anthony Troy would never ride that longboard to the ends of the earth for me.

  Before I could stare off into space any longer, Dad came out of the steamy bathroom dressed in his full suit again, looking much more like a businessman and father. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

  The drive home was quiet. Both Dad and I had a lot on our minds. As we pulled into the driveway, I asked him one more question.

  “Dad?” I asked. “How . . . often does this happen?”

  “What?”

  “How often do you pretend to be somewhere, when you’re actually alone, and . . . ”

  He blushed and looked down at his hands, which were slightly trembling thanks to the chemicals still surging through his bloodstream. “I don’t have a problem, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  I didn’t believe him.

  “Sara, please. I don’t have a problem.” He looked at me sternly, wearing the weight of the day on his weathered face. “Look . . . I’m really grateful you came to get me. And I’m so sorry you saw me like that. I want to do better. I’m going to do better. Okay?”

  “That’s easy to say,” I said sternly. “If you’re serious about doing better, I’m gonna hold you to it. And that starts by promising to never go off on benders in stupid, dirty motel rooms.”

  He nodded solemnly. “I know,” he said. “You’re right. I promise.”

  His words were devoid of emotion, but I turned off the ignition, and he stepped out and bounded up the front stairs of the house, obviously putting on a happier face for the girls who waited inside.

  “Honey, I’m home!” he bellowed brightly as he walked indoors.

  “Daddy?” came a quiet call from the basement. Then I heard two sets of little feet pattering quickly up the carpeted stairs. Anna and Lily emerged, and bolted towards their father.

  “Hey, sweeties!” Dad cheered, picking them both up at once. “I’m sorry I was gone so long. Sometimes you have to work extra hard to bring home the bacon, huh?” Hearing him lie so blatantly to his daughters made me sick. How long would he keep up this ruse with them? Had he gotten so used to lying that he wouldn’t actually be able to turn the corner he promised me he would?

  “Ooh, bacon!” Lily howled.

  Anna giggled and said, “Bacon for dinner!”

  “Did you have a good time with Sara and Pete?” Dad asked the girls.

  “It was okay . . . ,” Lily said. I braced myself. I knew what was coming.

  Anna’s smile faded. “They lost us.”

  “They what?” His voice was suddenly sharp.

  “For only like half an hour,” Lily offered. But the damage was done. I could tell Dad was shocked. Pete had emerged from the basement, and was watching this whole encounter with a look of pure dread.

  Dad set the girls down on the floor. “Could you guys go get me a bottle of water from the fridge, please?”

  The girls nodded and trotted off, unaware of the tension pulsing in the room.

  “You didn’t think it was worthwhile to tell me about that?” Dad spat.

  “Funny you should say that,” I fired back. “I tried calling you while we were looking for them—but you didn’t answer your phone. And, wouldn’t you know it, you weren’t at your office either!” I walked right up to him and was inches away from his face when I said, “I wonder where you were.”

  I stepped backward, never losing eye contact. A long silence passed as we stared each other down. I willed myself not to think about Pete, standing there watching. I had a million things to say to him, too, but they would have to wait.

  Eventually Dad sighed, and dropped his head. “You’re right,” he said. “I can’t get mad at you for being irresponsible enough to lose track of those kids. I lost you for twelve whole years.” He looked at me again, tears in his eyes. “I don’t ever want to lose you again.” His voice cracked and he rushed towards me, embracing me in a tight bear hug. I felt his heaving sobs against me, and I couldn’t help but cry, too. I cried with relief for finally knowing my father. I cried for the hope that we might be able to care about each other and stay in each other’s lives. I cried for the fact that in one day, I gained a father and two sisters, three things I never thought I’d have. And now that I’d come close to losing them, I realized all over again how much I needed them.

  As we separated, I caught a glimpse of Pete out of the corner of my eye. He stood awkwardly apart from us, trying to pretend he wasn’t in the same room. “Sorry you had to see that, Pete,” Dad said. “That you had to see all of this today. Really, I am.”

  Pete smiled tentatively. “That’s okay, Mr. Jackson. I’m just glad everything is working out.”

  I turned to Dad. “Um, Dad, Pete and I are gonna take a walk. Cool? We’ll be back soon.” He nodded skeptically, but turned back and walked deeper into the house. I looked at Pete and inclined my head towards the front door.

  Outside, I sat heavily on the stoop, unsure of how I was going to start this conversation. Pete sat down next to me, obviously unsure of where this was headed.

  My eyes were still not dry from the relief of hugging Dad, and as soon as I started talking, they filled up again. “Pete,” I started. “I am so, so sorry for the things I said earlier. For the way I’ve been acting since we came down here.”

  Before he could say anything, I kept going. “You need to know something. I just went and dug my dad out of a dirty motel room where he was hiding out all afternoon, drinking.” Pete’s eyes bugged out, but he said nothing. “I know. And while I was sitting in there waiting for him to get himself sober enough to walk out, I realized something. I realized that you came down here for me, and only me. Not for yourself. But for me. And I am beyond grateful for that.”

  Pete’s face suddenly turned sour and he looked down. “Yeah, see? Do you hear what you just said?”

  I was at a loss for words. My breath caught in my throat as I tried to respond, but Pete continued. “You’re right. I came down here for you, and I’ve been working hard to support you this whole time, through thick and thin. But you don’t owe me anything, okay? You don’t have to be nice and say you love me, too.” He stopped short, like the word love tasted rotten in his mouth.

  My heart was pounding, and I couldn’t tell if I was angry or hurt or panicked. Had I already broken his heart? Was this beyond fixing?

  “If you’re just trying to be nice, don’t say anything, okay? I already feel stupid for saying what I did, and I really don’t want to get my hopes up all over again. So, I’m happy you’re happy, but if it’s okay with you, I think I’ll head home. I’ll catch a flight or something.” He stood up and walked back inside.

  I felt like I had just toppled off the end of the earth and was in total free fall. Pete had been the rock-solid foundation during one of the most chaotic weeks of my entire life.
And just when I realized how much he meant to me, he disappeared. I knew I should leap up from the stoop, but my legs were heavy. My words had caused him nothing but pain. Maybe the best thing I could do was to shut up and let him walk away. My mind spinning and my stomach roiling, I lost track of time. The stars were peeking out in the sky, but I didn’t let myself enjoy them. I didn’t deserve to be happy after how much I had hurt someone who was guilty only of loving me.

  Just then I heard the front door open behind me, and I turned, hoping to see Pete. But it was Lily and Anna, looking like they had just received the worst news of their lives.

  “Girls, what is it?” I asked, panicked.

  “Pete is leaving,” Anna said.

  “Daddy is taking him to the airport,” Lily said. “Why is he getting on an airplane? Are you leaving too?”

  “Don’t leave!” Anna begged.

  “I’m . . . I’m not,” I said. I realized, though, that part of me wanted to—even though leaving would mean saying goodbye to Lily, Anna, and Dad. But in this moment nothing was more important than staying with Pete.

  “Hold on,” I said, finally standing up. “Wait a second, girls.” I brushed past them back into the house. Dad stood in the entryway looking concerned.

  “What happened? Pete just sped in here and told me he needs a ride to the airport. He opened his phone and booked a plane ticket in about five minutes. I’ll call him an Uber as soon as he’s ready. He said his flight leaves in ninety minutes. Is he okay?”

  My heart rate kicked up a hundred notches. “Where is he?”

  “Packing his bag,” Dad said. “Upstairs.”

  I dashed up the long staircase, beads of sweat popping up on my neck. I burst into the guest room to find Pete scowling and throwing his clothes into his suitcase. “Pete,” I said, “stop. Wait.”