by Bree Dahlia
“All I ever wanted was for you to believe in love again. I wanted to give you the fairy tale.”
I pull my ring from my purse and drop it into his lap. “Fairy tales aren’t real. Why do you think I draw them?”
I open the door and leave my husband.
Twenty-five
Cain
I watch her leave. I let her go. I made her go. The only woman I’ve ever loved. She’s better off without me, but I won’t be better off without her.
It’s over. I can’t take her back any more than I can take back my hateful words. I lost control. I let it win. I deserve whatever I get.
My head drops back down, and I lose to it once again. Tears seize my eyes and flow out of me fast and furious. Even they have to leave, can’t stand to be around. For a man who’s always held reign over his emotions, these last months have been vicious.
I stay like this for minutes, hours, days. I don’t fucking know. I breathe out everything good and breathe in shame and disgust and unworthiness. She made a promise to be faithful, and I made a promise to honor and cherish. We both broke our vows. Her blade cuts no deeper than mine. And I called her worthless? I’m the one who gave her the knife.
Anger rises but I swallow it down. I forced my angel to leave. I lost the only real thing I ever had in my life. I stand and go to the kitchen where I slam glass upon glass of water, drowning out the rage. It’s nearly 4:00 a.m. I hate this time of the morning. I squeeze the glass, choking the wild fury clawing away inside me.
Fucking worthless.
I hurl the glass toward the wall and it explodes.
Twenty-two years earlier
I’m so thirsty. My skin is on fire.
“Auntie?” I hope she can hear my whisper. She doesn’t.
I get out of bed. My throat feels all cut up. I want a glass of water.
The room spins around me, and I hold tight to the railing. I step down real slow because I’m scared to fall. Even my eyeballs hurt. Auntie says I have the flu.
I get to the bottom and go to the kitchen, wiping sweat off my head. Auntie forgot to turn on the nightlight, so I can’t see. I flip on the room switch and get my water.
“Boy, is that you?”
My heart beats real fast. Uncle will be mad that I turned on the light. I run to turn it off but I get super dizzy. The glass slips from my hand and drops to the floor. It sounds like an explosion. My feet are soaked.
“You stupid ass.” Uncle is here and his face is so red. “Look what you did.”
“I… I’m sorry.” I look down and the floor waves at me.
“You lying sack of shit. You’re not sorry, and you’re not sick. You’re just trying to weasel out of your chores as usual.”
“I’m sick,” I think I say, but my throat burns too bad.
“Then you’d be sleeping in bed, like I should be doing. Selfish brat, making me get up to do your work. Now clean your mess and go load the stove.”
I try to kneel, but it’s more like I drop. My knees burn too. “Auntie said I was too sick to do chores.”
He laughs, but his laughs are always mean. “You’re a little con artist, boy. But you can’t fool me.” I shake my head. He always says stuff I don’t understand. “Just like your good-fer-nothing mother. She didn’t even want you. Had to die to get away from you. Selfish like you too. Left all her garbage behind for someone else to deal with. Well, I don’t want you either, but I can’t take the easy way out like her.”
“Auntie wants me.” She told me. Said she loved me too.
“You got her fooled. But just you wait till she ain’t no more. Then she ain’t gonna want you. No one’s ever gonna want you.”
“I’m sick,” I say again. I have to be. I feel too bad. I’m not fooling.
He pushes me and I fall on my arm. “Get out of the way. You can’t even do this right. Don’t need someone stepping on your mess because you’re too lazy.” He says a bunch of things real quiet that I can’t hear, then picks up the broken pieces and holds them on his shirt. “I don’t know what she was thinking spending my money to get you another toy. Don’t deserve it.”
My truck! I get scared he’ll take it away. Oh no. I left it on the floor. He’ll for sure take it away now. Probably break it too.
I sneak away to get it, but I’m not too sneaky because he sees. “Where the hell you going?”
I try to go faster but my head is swirly. Maybe he won’t catch me because he’s holding the glass. I just want him to leave me alone. He gets meaner and meaner every day.
He gets me in the hallway right by the basement. I hide my truck under my pajamas and sit down. “Finally doing something, huh?” He points down the stairs. “Well go on, then. Load up the stove before it freezes in here.”
I hate the basement. I hate the stove and I hate the wood. I always burn myself. I want it to freeze. I’m already too hot.
He grabs my shirt and my truck falls out. Oh no. His face is red again. He tries to grab it but I push it away. He comes closer and whoosh, like a cartoon. Crash. Crash. Crash. It’s so fast. Auntie says when you’re sick your head can sometimes think things that aren’t true. I saw Uncle fall down the stairs, but I don’t know if it’s true. I rub my eyes.
“Get Auntie,” he yells. I look down and he’s on the dirt. And he’s bent all funny. And he’s not getting up. “This is all your fault, boy.” He’s not yelling as loud now. “You hurt me. I tripped because of your goddamn truck. I need help.”
I don’t move. I think bad things. Maybe because I’m sick. Or maybe because I am bad like Uncle always says. I think how nice it would be if he stayed down there. If it was just me and Auntie. I don’t want him to come back up.
“Goddamnit, go! For once in your miserable—” He coughs. “—worthless life. Do something right.” Cough, cough. “Before I lock you down here forever.”
I run. I run and run and run until I see my room. I scream. I throw up on the floor. I think on the wall too.
Then I hide under the covers and don’t come back out.
Twenty-six
I miss you.
I love you. Always.
Thinking of you. Please call me. We just found each other again. This can’t be goodbye.
The last one was sent three days ago. It takes everything in me not to respond. My heart craves him, but I can’t risk more damage. After how he hurt me, it should be simple to let go. But nothing about this is simple.
I stick my phone in the desk drawer even though I know “out of sight, out of mind” is complete bullshit.
“Mads?” Rowan raps on the door, then sticks her head in. “You busy?”
“Just posting some of my samples.” That and reading texts. I push my laptop aside. “What’s up?”
“Your, uh, father’s here.”
“What? What the hell’s he doing here?”
She shrugs. “I have no idea. I didn’t invite him.”
How’d he even know where I am? Where Rowan lives? “Why’d he drive all the way out to Milwaukee just to see me?” I get a sickening feeling. “Oh my God. Do you think something happened to my mom?”
“I don’t—”
“Your mother’s fine, Madison.”
My father comes up behind Rowan, dwarfing her. The doorway isn’t big enough for the both of them.
Rowan stares at me. “Well, I guess I’ll just leave you two to talk, then.” She makes all these face gestures that’d make me laugh if I weren’t so confused as to what he’s doing here.
I nod. “It’s okay.”
She backs away and my father steps in, holding a bag. He closes the door and smiles. “You look good.”
“No, I don’t.”
He sighs. “It’s great to finally see you again.”
Yes, it’s been a while. I never did get around to meeting him for dinner. But I highly doubt he would track me down to another city for that reason.
“What are you doing here?”
He pulls up a chair and sits beside me. �
�I spoke with Cain. I’m so sorry.”
Of course. Cain knows I’m here only because he contacted Rowan to make sure I was all right. Why should he even care? He wanted to kick me out just as badly as I wanted to leave.
“He shouldn’t have told you anything.”
“Why? I’m your father. I’m worried about you.”
In a juvenile move, I roll my eyes. “You didn’t need to make the drive. I’m perfectly fine.”
“I can’t see how. It hasn’t even been a week. You two are husband and wife. Are your issues that insurmountable you—”
“Stop.” I hold up my hand. “This isn’t any of your business.”
“You’re my daughter. Of course, it is. I love you and want you to be happy.” I shake my head. I am not in the mood to listen to this pseudo fatherly concern crap. I’m never in the mood. “Do you need anything? Money? Cain said you haven’t touched the account or the card.”
“I don’t need your money. Or his.” I still have a little stashed away in my own account to pay bills. And Rowan graciously offered me a rent-free spot in her tiny eight-hundred-square-foot apartment for as long as I want one. After living in the farmhouse, it feels like a mansion.
“Honey, I get that you’re bitter. Cain explained a little of what happened, what he did. But it’s not just his money; it’s yours too.”
“Did he also tell you what I did?”
“No. What did you do?”
“Never mind.” I stare past him to a grinning jack-o’-lantern she keeps displayed year-round. “The takeaway is I don’t need anything from him. Or you.”
He touches my hand. “Then maybe I can support you in a different way, be a shoulder to—”
I yank my hand away. “Oh my God. Cut the shit, okay? You never cared to be there for me before, so don’t think you’re doing me any favors by wanting to be Father of the Year now.”
“What are you talking about? I always cared. I always wanted to be there.”
He’s wearing a sincere expression. I’ll give him that. I can see how my mom got sucked in at first. A handsome, charming man can fool almost anyone six ways to Sunday.
“You left us. Don’t pretend otherwise.” I stand and stare out the window at the historic theater across the street. “And what’s the point? We’ve already been over this before. It’s old news.”
“You’ve been over it before. I haven’t.” I sigh, shaking my head. “I loved your mother. Still do. But when it didn’t work out, I never left you. How can you say that?”
I shake my head harder. “At least call it what it is. By ‘didn’t work out,’ you really mean ‘when you had an affair and left your family for a new one.’” I glance back at him and he winces.
“There’s a lot you don’t know, Madison. You were a child at the time.”
“I know you cheated on Mom and sent her into a deep depression. I know you divorced her when she was barely hanging on. I know you married your whore and dropped out of my life until it suited you.”
His mouth drops. “Madison! I know you’re hurting, but that’s uncalled for.”
Am I being unfair? Maybe. Some might call me a whore too, even though our situations are nothing alike. But the rest of what I said is spot-on.
“You’re right about one thing, though. I was a child. One who needed you then, but not anymore.”
He comes near and I cross my arms. “I’m not going to disgrace your mother by getting too deeply into it, but I will say a few things.” I look away. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to hear it. “I loved her more than should be possible, but I couldn’t help her. She didn’t want me to. She didn’t want anyone to. What you don’t know is that she suffered from bouts of severe depression long before I met Cecilia.”
No, I didn’t know that, but I don’t comment. Besides, who’s to say he’s not lying?
“What I did was wrong, the affair. I’m not going to make excuses except to say it was an outlet at first. A way to regain a little control in a helpless situation. It damn near killed me every day to try so hard to help your mother and get nowhere.”
I humph. I’d be able to relate if our situations were anything alike. Cecilia was his coworker, not his first love.
“The last thing I’ll say is that I wanted more than anything to be a part of your life right after the divorce. That nearly killed me too, not being allowed to.”
I jerk my head to look at him. “What do you mean ‘allowed’? You were too busy with a new wife. And her kids.” It’s crazy. Sometimes I forget I have step-siblings out there.
“Madison.” His shoulders drop. “Your mother thought it best if I stayed out of your life until you were old enough to decide. That it would somehow be easier on you. I didn’t contest it, but looking back, that was a horrible mistake. She said—you know what? It doesn’t matter. Just know that I thought of you every day. I still do.”
“No. Mom wouldn’t lie to me. She said you chose not to be there. That you chose to leave because you didn’t want to be around us anymore.”
He touches my arm, and I’m too baffled to do anything about it. “I’m not saying your mom is lying. In her reality, that’s what she believed. And no matter what she was going through, she was always a good mother to you. I’d never imply otherwise.”
“But….” Yes, she took good care of me, even when she shuffled around in a dark cloud. Yes, she showed no shortage of love or support or attention. But does a good mother badmouth her daughter’s father on a daily basis until when she’s old enough to decide for herself, there’s really only one way to think?
No, something doesn’t add up. My father must be twisting the truth.
“I should go. I’ve thrown too much at you when you already have enough to deal with.” He gives a hug I don’t return, but one I don’t dodge either. “Please call if you need anything. Anything.” I remain shell-shocked as he turns for the door. “Is there anything you need me to relay back to Cain?”
“Um, yeah. You can tell him to start divorce proceedings.”
His head hangs. “Honey, are you sure?” I nod, my throat filling up. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He grabs the bag he entered with and gives it to me. “It comes with a message. Cain wanted me to tell you to always look up. Does that make sense to you?”
I take the bag and look inside, choking out a “yes.”
It’s my wind chime.
Five years earlier
“What are you wearing on your date?”
I fling my mascara tube at her. “It’s not a date.”
“I think you should wear your new blue dress. It’s sexy as hell.”
I dab on some lipstick. Already planned on it. Not because it’s sexy, but because it’s a hundred degrees out and it’s light and short and strapless. I go to the closet, pull it off the hanger, and slip it over my head.
Rowan is perched on a stool watching my every move, reminding me of a raptor. “You’re making me nervous.” I try my hair a few different ways, then decide the only sane option in this humidity is to put it up.
“I have a good feeling about this one. Just saying.”
“You already said that like six months ago.”
“Yeah, but that’s when you were ‘just friends.’” I see her making air quotes in the mirror.
“And we’re still just friends now.”
“Friends on a first date.”
I turn around and rest my hands on her shoulders. “I’m not ready for anyone else. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready, okay?” I don’t know how many times I have to tell her.
I notice Cain’s car pull up and I jump back. “Oops! Gotta go.”
I give myself another once-over while sliding on my flip-flops, and then I’m darting out the door, hearing Rowan say behind me, “Oh, you’re ready.”
I get outside as Cain’s stepping out of the car. His face lights up when he sees me. “Maddie, wow… what can I say?”
I smile. “You can say I look nice.”
He gives me a chast
e peck on the cheek. “Out of everything I’m thinking right now, ‘nice’ isn’t one of them.”
A thrill jolts through me as I wonder what’s in his head. This kind of thing has been happening more and more lately. The flirting. The innuendos. Cain and I have been hanging out casually for months. It’s fun. He’s a great guy, makes me laugh. But that’s as far as it’s gone. As far as I want it to go. My heart isn’t well enough for anything else.
He opens the car door for me, and I buckle in, fanning my face with my hand. Man, it’s hot. And sticky. I’m so glad I wore this dress.
His eyes are on my thighs as he starts the car. I fan harder. “So, street fair, right?” I already know exactly where we’re going, but it’s nervous chatter.
He looks up. “Unless you’d like to do something inside where it’s cooler?”
“No, I’m looking forward to this.”
He nods, pulling onto the road. His stare remains straight ahead as he drives. I can’t help studying the side of his face, the jaw that would need a shave if it weren’t sexier without one. He glances over and I divert my gaze, but not fast enough. His lips curve up.
Rowan was wrong. This isn’t a first date, but it’s not like the multitude of times before, either. Something’s different. There’s more… tension.
He finds a parking spot on a side street, and we walk the rest of the way to the annual art fair near campus. Vendors line up for several blocks, and there’s music and food. When I mentioned to Cain that I wanted to check it out, it was as good as done.
The crowd grows denser as we make our way closer. He takes my hand. “Don’t want to lose you.”
No, wouldn’t want that to happen. We weave through sweaty bodies as the sun bakes us from above and searing heat rises from the pavement below. It’s not the most pleasant of days to be outside, but somehow that doesn’t faze me. All I can feel is his hand tight around mine. I like it, but I don’t understand how I can like it. It’s not Jake’s.
We wander past booths, stopping at some but not for long. It’s too hot for serious shopping. Too hot for food, too hot for anything but water.