Getting Played

by Mia Storm

  She nods.

  I lower my face into my hand. “Why didn’t they tell me any of this?”

  “They were going to, Addie, but it was a complicated situation and you were so young. They wanted to wait until they thought you’d understand.”

  I try to remember if there was ever any strange woman hanging around after Mom died. “What happen to the woman?”

  She takes a deep breath. “Your father was heartbroken after Maggie died. He really did love her. I guess his guilt got the best of him and he broke off the affair.”

  I sink deeper into the seat. “You say he loved Mom, but did he love the other woman too?”

  She bobs a sad nod. “I think so.”

  So he was grieving both of them. That and his guilt drove him over the edge.

  When we walk into Dad’s room, he’s shoving a handful of socks in his duffel bag. He holds one up when he sees us. “They did my laundry. Guess they thought sorting lights from darks might be enough to send me running for the bottle.”

  Becky laughs, but it’s strained. “One less thing to worry about.”

  He zips the bag and hikes it onto his shoulder. “The discharge planner was here a few minutes ago. She says I’m cleared to go.”

  “Great, Dad,” I say, giving him a quick hug and taking his bag.

  We head to the parking lot and I drive Dad home in his car. Becky follows in hers.

  I glance at him as we make the turn out of the lot. “How are you feeling?”

  “Very, very sober,” he says wearily, slumping deeper into the seat.

  I decide to stop trying to make small talk when he closes his eyes and drops his head onto the headrest. When we get home, he takes his bag to his room to unpack.

  “Do you need some help?” I ask Becky when she heads to the kitchen.

  She opens the oven door and pulls out the lasagna. “I’m going to make a salad while this sets, so we’ll be ready to eat in about half an hour. That’s enough time to get you out the door to work?”

  I glance at the clock. “Yeah, that will work.”

  Vicky told me to take the night off, but when she couldn’t get Marni to cover, I told her I’d be in by the time she leaves at five.

  I shuffle down the hall to my room and stick my head into Dad’s. “It’s good to have you home.”

  He gives me a tired smile. “Thanks, kiddo.”

  I unload my books on my bed and start my homework. Down the hall, I hear Becky preparing dinner and Dad rustling around in his room. A few minutes later, I hear him in the kitchen with Becky. “My therapist says I’m supposed to keep busy, so put me to work.”

  I focus on my homework, but smile. He sounds so much more like his old self, so maybe we really can get our lives back.

  I finish my physics homework and go to my dresser to find something to wear to work. As much as I like working at Sam Hill, I can’t seem to get the smell of onions and cooking oil out of clothes. As I pass by the door, I realize the banging in the kitchen has stopped and instead there are hushed voices drifting up the hall.

  My heart claws up my throat at the certainty Becky is telling Dad about Marcus, even though she told me she wouldn’t. Why else would they be whispering?

  The door creaks when I push it wider and I grab it to stop the whine. When I step through the opening, their voices are more audible, but I can still only make out a few words.

  I tiptoe closer to the end of the hall and press my back against the wall.

  “…no idea how much this has torn me apart,” I hear Becky say.

  I’m ready to go out there and defend Marcus, but then what? If she’s already told him, there’s nothing I can do. I hold my breath and brace for Dad’s explosion, but all he says is a quiet, “It’s been a rough road.”

  They’re not talking about Marcus. Relief sweeps through me and I sag against the wall and close my eyes.

  “This is the first time I’ve seen the real you shining out of those eyes in a very long time,” Becky says, her voice a caress.

  I chance a peek around the corner and see them standing at the counter. Dad is leaning his backside against it and Becky’s standing at this side, her hip propped against the cabinets…and her hand cupping his cheek—which strikes me as strange, considering Dad has barely looked at her since we got here.

  Dad hauls a shuddering breath and lowers his gaze from hers. “We shouldn’t have come here. If I’d had anywhere else to go, we wouldn’t have. I just...I needed Addie to have something stable.”

  “Well, at least you recognized that through your alcohol haze,” she says, lowering her hand. “And I’m glad you came.”

  “Really?” Dad asks, his voice full of trepidation as he lifts his gaze back to hers.

  “Of course. I never want you to think you can’t come to me, Bruce. Things might not have worked out how we originally planned, but I’ll always be here for you and Addie.”

  I start tiptoeing up the hall to get ready for work as Becky adds, “She asked about us today.”

  Becky’s comment stops me cold. It’s more whispered than her previous comments, as if protecting a secret.

  Dad’s voice is lower too when he answers. “I heard you when you told me she couldn’t go through life thinking it was her fault. It was mine. Telling her the truth was the only way to make her understand that.”

  Something cold cuts through the pit of my stomach and I pin myself to the wall again.

  “Are you ever going to tell her the whole truth?” Becky asks.

  “Maybe,” he answers. “Someday.”

  I try to process what I’m hearing and the pieces start to click together. Dad’s drinking was bad before we moved here, but it definitely got worse after. Especially when Becky was home. Which wasn’t very often. Was Becky’s travel schedule on purpose? Is it too hard for her to be with him now? And Dad never looked at Becky. I thought it was for the same reason it’s hard for me to look at her—she looks just like Mom, but what if it’s more?

  My suspicions are all confirmed when Becky says softly, “If you truly believe our affair is the reason Maggie is dead, then it’s just as much my fault as yours.”

  My stomach turns to lead and some sound between anger and anguish tries to claw its way up my throat. I close my eyes and swallow it.

  Dad cheated on Mom with her sister.

  I hear Dad blow out a long sigh. “Every day I have to take an internal baseball bat to all the ‘what ifs,’ but I’m finally starting to see it was just the perfect storm. Do I feel responsible for what happened? Absolutely. But I’m also so fucking mad at Maggie for putting Addie in that position.”

  Dad’s voice grows thick and when I peek around the corner into the kitchen again, he’s still at the counter, but Becky’s moved to one of the kitchen chairs, watching him.

  “I hate myself for my role,” he finally continues, and I duck behind the wall when he lifts his head. “But I also hate Maggie for hers. And Addie…” A pause. “She was forever picking fights with her mother. The more detached Maggie became, the more Addie pushed her buttons. I know it was a cry for attention, but she was an inexperienced driver. She should have pulled over if she was upset. Maggie should have made her. So many stupid choices all around.”

  “My guilt over this has eaten me alive,” Becky says, “but you can play the blame game and ‘what if’ all day, Bruce. It’s not going to change anything, and you’ll only drive yourself crazy.” She hesitates. “Or back to the bottle.”

  There’s a long pause and I hear Becky’s chair creak as she shifts in it.

  “Oh, shit,” she hisses. “I lost track of time. Addie has to eat before she goes.” Then louder, “Addie! Dinner’s on!”

  I take a few deep breaths to calm my shaking while I try to decide what to do. Do I tell them I heard? What would happen if I confronted them? I step out into the living room a minute later, shaking and still unsure what to do.

  “Where are you off to?” Dad asks. He’s trying to smile, but it’s str
ained.

  “Actually,” I say as I move to the table, “I’m working in the kitchen at Sam Hill after school and on weekends.”

  He flinches at the name of his old haunt. “You’re not playing water polo?”

  I shrug. “I needed to make some money.”

  “I wish you’d let me help with those hospital bills,” Becky interjects as she dishes up slabs of lasagna and brings them to the table.

  “I talked to the billing department,” Dad says, his gaze turning to me and sharpening. “Wanted to try to work out a payment schedule. They said someone has made two cash payments on our account. The woman at the desk up front said it was a young man. Very tall with dark hair.” His hard eyes cut to me. “Can you think of anyone who fits that description?”

  My jaw drops.

  Becky gives me a questioning squint. “Marcus?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, but I wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that. He’s working two jobs to make ends meet, but he’s going to help me if it kills him.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Dad says, serving up a slice of lasagna. “I’ve decided we’re going back to the Bay Area.”

  A stone drops in my stomach and I go suddenly cold.

  “I’ll have better luck finding a job in civilization. Addie can go back to her old school, so the transition shouldn’t be too hard…” He looks at me. “I think it will be good for both of us.”

  I want to tell him I’m not going, but that would make me the worst daughter ever. Dad’s one minute out of rehab and I’m ready to abandon him.

  But he’s lied to me all this time. Anger sparks in my chest and I almost lash out at both of them. I could almost forgive Dad having an affair. But not with Becky. Mom’s sister.

  “I think you’re rushing into this decision, Bruce,” Becky says when I don’t respond. “Why don’t you take a few weeks to get back on your feet, and if you still feel this way, then by all means, you should go back to the coast. But…” she says, flicking me a glance, “I think it should be up to Addie where she finishes school.”

  Dad splits a glance between us before his eyes settle on Becky and harden. “She’s staying with me, and I’ve already decided. We’re leaving in the morning.”

  “I’ve got to go,” I say, spinning for the hallway, my dinner forgotten. My head is about to explode and I need to think before I say something I can’t take back.

  “Addie!” Becky calls. “You have to eat.”

  “I’ll get something at work,” I answer without slowing down.

  I change in my room, but stop to listen when I hear whispered voices again.

  “Is this because of us, Bruce?” Becky hisses under her breath. “Because you can’t keep uprooting that girl. You just said she needed stability.”

  There’s a long pause. “I can’t do this,” Dad finally answers. “Being here with you now only reminds me of everything I’m trying to forget.”

  A chair scrapes back and I swing my door closed when hear Dad’s heavy footfalls headed toward the hall.

  I finish dressing and head to the front door. When I glance into Dad’s room on the way by, I realize when I thought he was unpacking, he was actually packing. His suitcase is down from the closet and open on his bed. He decided this while he was in rehab without even asking me.

  “I’ll pack when I get home,” I tell him.

  He gives me a sad nod.

  “Let me give you a ride, Addie,” Becky says as I pass through the living room.

  I start to protest, but she’s already through the garage door and climbing in the car, so maybe she just needs to be away from Dad for a minute.

  I follow and climb into the passenger seat. We’re quiet for the ride, both absorbed by our thoughts, and she drops me at Sam Hill.

  My mind races as I work. What are my options? Stay with Dad and go back to San Mateo…never see Marcus and hopefully Becky again. Do what Mom did and run away from all of it.

  Or run to Marcus.

  This is my fork in the road, and all I have is right now to decide which road to take.

  I keep looking at the stool that Marcus has occupied every night this week. Tonight it’s empty, but as I work, I find the ghost of him is almost worse than having him sitting there watching me.

  So many ghosts.

  If I fight Dad to stay with Marcus, Dad could have him arrested. He could go to jail like his brother-in-law. If I go with Dad, Marcus will be safe. So, there’s really only one road. One choice. No fork after all.

  I manage to make it through my shift without cutting off a finger and go looking for Vicky after I clock out. I find her behind the bar.

  “You off?” she asks, topping off the drink she’s making with soda water.

  “I just clocked out.” My feet shuffle of their own accord and I pick at a fingernail. “I really appreciate you giving me this chance, Vicky, but I won’t be in tomorrow.”

  Her eyebrows go up. “Saturday is our busiest night. I need a little more notice if you’re going to miss a shift.”

  “It’s not just tomorrow,” I say with a cringe. “I won’t be back. I’m really sorry.”

  She drops her rag on the bar. “You’re quitting?”

  I nod. “My dad and I are going back to the Bay Area. I didn’t know until just before I got here.”

  “He’s out of rehab?” she asks, her voice softer.

  “Just this afternoon. He seems…okay mostly. Just a little on edge.”

  Carol comes by and Vicky hands her the tray of drinks she was preparing. “You were learning the ropes quickly. The kitchen staff’s going to be sorry to hear you’re going.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  She pulls the pen out from behind her ear and grabs her order pad. “Do you have an address? I’ll send your check.”

  “Not yet,” I say with a shake of my head. “I’ll call you when I know where we’re going to be.”

  She gives me a sad little nod then holds out her hand. “Good luck.”

  I take it and shake. “Thanks.”

  I push out the door onto the sidewalk and look down the street in the direction of Marcus’s apartment. I could go and tell him I’m leaving. We could have this one night. But would I ever be able to walk away then? And if I couldn’t…if I stayed with him, I don’t even want to imagine how ugly that would get.

  So I turn for home.

  Becky is mopping the kitchen floor when I walk in the door. I’ve discovered in the last few weeks she’s a stress cleaner. And she’s obviously stressed, because she’s in the process of scrubbing a hole in the tile.

  “I’m going to pack,” I say, heading straight to my room.

  Becky looks up at me, then goes back to mopping.

  Dad’s bedroom door is closed when I pass, and I think about knocking. But what would I say? I’m not ready to confront him about Becky yet, so I head to my room.

  I don’t have much, just my clothes, Mom’s laptop, and a few books, and a small box full of random things, so it doesn’t take long to shove most of it in Mom’s old roll-away. When she was alive, it was always open on the floor in the corner of the bedroom. When she wasn’t writing, she was traveling on book tour, so she kept some basic things packed. Dad drank more when she was gone. I remember hating that.

  I schlep to the bathroom and get in the shower. I’m drying off when a fist pounding on the front door sends my heart leaping into my throat.

  Chapter 23

  Marcus

  I race up to the bar, a little out of breath, and am disappointed to find Vicky there instead of Bran. It just means I’ll have to be more subtle.

  I’d planned to give Addie some space and not lurk at Sam Hill while she worked tonight, but in the end, I couldn’t do it. I sprinted down here, hoping to catch her before she leaves.

  “Hey, Vicky,” I say, sliding onto a stool. I look through the window in the door to the kitchen, but don’t see Addie. “Kitchen still open?”

  She sets a bar napkin down
in front of me and starts pouring my beer. “Jeff’s still back there. I’ll have him pull together a burger for you.”

  “Thanks,” I say as she thunks my beer down in front of me. “Bran wasn’t home. Thought he’d be here.”

  She gives her head a shake. “Don’t know where he is. He just said he needed tonight off.”

  “Just so you know,” I say, my eyes migrating back to the kitchen door, “you probably cost Oak Crest a water polo State Championship this year.”

  “How could I possibly have done that?”

  I bring my gaze back to her when I still don’t see Addie, frustration rising inside me like a wave. “Bruce’s daughter. You hired her off my team. She’s the best right wing I’ve ever seen.”

  She huffs out a laugh. “I don’t know why you’d care, considering the way they’re treating you. And besides, the team would have been short their right wing either way. She just quit cold. Left me scrambling to cover tomorrow night.”

  A stone drops in my stomach and my eyes shoot back to the kitchen door. “What?”

  “I guess Bruce just got cleaned up and decided to move them back where they came from.”

  Everything in me erupts in a fountain of need and I bound off the stool. “She’s already gone?”

  Vicky gives me a curious look. “About half hour ago.”

  By the next beat of my racing heart, I’m out the door and in my truck. I don’t remember anything about the drive to Addie’s except praying I wasn’t too late.

  I pound on her door, and when no one answers it a second later, out of sheer panic I try the knob. But the door pulls open at the same instant and I trip into the living room.

  “Marcus,” Becky says, backing up so I don’t mow her down. “What are you doing here?”

  “I…” I take a panicked glance around the room and find Bruce glaring at me from his recliner.

  A second later, Addie appears at the opening to the hallway wrapped in a towel, her curls loose and dripping down her shoulders. She pulls up short when she sees me, and there’s a long minute where we just stare at each other.

  Becky takes my elbow and nudges me fully into the room so she can close the door. “Is there something we can do for you, Marcus?”