by Liara Tamani
Mom takes one of her hands off the steering wheel to wipe her eyes.
“I can drive,” I offer.
“No, I’m okay,” she insists.
I grab her free hand and hold it.
“He still loves you, you know,” she says.
As always, here she goes trying to turn the spotlight off her pain, around to mine. “But what about you? Do you think he still loves you?”
She puts both hands back on the steering wheel. “Love is not just some feeling, Carli.”
Her voice isn’t normal. It’s not hard like she’s pissed or high like she’s annoyed, but it’s not normal.
“There’s a deep responsibility to it . . . a deep trust. And no matter how your dad feels, he’s failed to love me.”
It’s defiant. That’s what her voice is. She wipes her eyes again.
“And he can be mad about me divorcing him so quickly all he wants, but there’s no way I will ever be able to trust him again. And I can’t be married to someone I can’t trust. Don’t need time or marriage counseling to tell me that.”
An image of my parents sitting in a room on opposite ends of a light-blue sofa pops into my head. And another one of them sitting closer on the sofa. And then together in the middle of the sofa with Cole and me on either end. “You don’t even want to try?” I ask.
“Try?” she says, her voice going high.
“Yeah, try couples counseling,” I say, pushing past her annoyance. You see, the scared part of me doesn’t care about her annoyance. Or about betrayal or the responsibility and trust of love. The scared part of me doesn’t care about how much that man has hurt Mom. Or me for that matter. All it cares about is me staying intact. Less ground shifting beneath my feet. Keeping my family together, my life together—myself together.
“Look, you may not understand it, Carli. But I’ve made my decision. Everybody has to live their life making choices for themselves, choices that will hopefully lead to happiness. We may get it wrong sometimes, but all we can do is our best. And this is me doing my best. I need to move forward, and this is the only way I know how.”
“Well, I’m gonna move forward and divorce him, too.”
“You say that like it’s easy.”
“Well, it looks easy enough for you.”
“What do you want me to do, Carli? Cry forever? Stay in pain forever? That’s no way to live. I love myself too much for that.”
Love myself. I wish I knew what that felt like. I don’t even know myself. How can I love what I don’t even know?
“And there is no divorcing your dad.”
“You sound like you’ve never heard of people divorcing their parents.”
“Look, Carli. Clearly your dad has some work to do on himself—”
“You can say that again.”
“But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s your dad. He loves you. You don’t want to throw away that relationship.”
“But she calls him Daddy.”
“Shannon?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, he’s her dad, too.”
“Well, she can have him. I don’t want him anymore.”
“Look, Carli,” Mom says, and briefly reaches over to touch my thigh. “Your dad will always be your dad. Yes, he has another daughter. But that’s a fact you’re going to have to accept. You have every right to be shocked and angry and hurt. But at the end of the day, none of that will change what is. You need to talk to him. Tell him how you feel. Make him tell you what you want to know about the situation.”
“But he’s a liar,” I say, feeling my heart swell up in my throat and warm tears run down my cheeks. I turn to look outside the window at the darkness on the side of the road, hoping for some kind of sign. But the darkness won’t say anything.
“Yeah, but you can still talk to him. One of the reasons he probably lied all these years is because he was scared of losing our marriage. But that’s already gone.”
If only I could be gone.
It All Comes Down
REX
I have eight missed calls from My Love when I grab my phone off my nightstand the next morning. Ten a.m. and I’m still in bed. On weekends the sun usually wakes me up, but it’s not out today. On the other side of my glass sliding door, dark clouds creep across the sky.
I tap My Love on my phone and change it back to Carli. Then I scroll down to the bottom of her contact page and press Block This Caller. I know I need to apologize, but I’m not ready to talk to her yet.
Outside, the pines are bending to the wind. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and slide my boxer briefs on—ready to step outside and take in the smell of the coming storm, ready to feel its force against my bare skin—when I notice an envelope in the middle of my floor.
My father must’ve slid it underneath my door this morning. Wait, that means my father must’ve come upstairs. I’ve never seen him upstairs. Maybe he even knocked on my door when I was asleep. Maybe it’s a letter from him saying all the things that still need to be said.
I wipe the crust out of the corners of my eyes and go pick it up. It’s light purple. Not exactly my father’s style. Plus, it has a stamp in the upper right-hand corner. Typed underneath a strip of teal tissue paper in the upper left-hand corner, it reads Carli Alexander.
I think about tossing the envelope outside and letting the rain wash her words away, so I’ll never be able to take them in. But I don’t. Instead, I sit down with the envelope in the middle of my cold wooden floor and bring it to my nose—exactly the thing I shouldn’t do. But it smells like her, and I can’t help but to breathe it in deep.
Doesn’t mean anything. After I apologize, I’m still done with Carli.
Each line of her return address, of my address, is typed underneath alternating strips of lime-green and teal tissue paper, which are all pasted on the envelope separately. She probably spent over an hour on the envelope alone. The least I can do is open it and see what’s inside. It’s not like it’s going to change anything.
I poke my pinky finger in the corner of the backside of the envelope, slide it underneath the triangular flap, and lift it up. First thing I see is our faces in front of a big, swirly sun. I quickly close the flap and push the envelope away from me, back underneath the door. I’ve already seen too much.
CARLI
The thunder outside my window sounds like it’s ripping open the sky (not a good sign) as I call Rex for, like, the hundredth time. Come on, Rex. Pick up the phone!
I need to tell him about Shannon. I need him to understand why I missed his game. And he needs to know how much he hurt me by telling my secrets. Both of us need to apologize. And forgive. And afterward I need to slip in some of Mom’s words about trust and responsibility, so our love can move forward toward something better.
I sit up in bed, hoping that a more upright position will somehow make him answer, and press Rex again. Pick up! But there’s only one ring before the computerized voice mail. More tears burning at the back of my throat find their way out.
Another knock at my door and I wipe the warm tears off my cheeks.
“Carli, I’ve got hot chocolate on the stove and it’s getting cold.” Mom’s muffled voice comes through with N.E.R.D. playing in the background. First the doughnuts were getting cold with Missy Elliott. Then it was the blueberry scones with Mary J. She’s been trying to get me out of my room with sugar and old-school hits all day.
I take a deep breath and manage to push out, “No thanks,” without sounding like the hot mess I am.
“Okay, but you need to get something in your stomach.”
“I will,” I say in the most I’m-not-in-here-crying tone I can muster, hoping she’ll be satisfied enough to go away.
She is.
My phone pings and my heart leaps with hope. But it’s only a text from Cole. U okay?
Yeah I answer, and it’s not even a complete lie. Hearing from Cole is actually right on time. I miss him. I know we’ve only been separated for one
night. But I need his overly loving presence around me right now. Too bad he’s stuck on the other side of town with that man. Shame he doesn’t know the truth about him yet.
So u really done with ?
Yeah
Why didn’t u say something?
Thought you’d be disappointed
Come on . . . u know u can tell me anything
Yeah . . . but I know how much you love basketball
I hope u know I u more
Oh my gosh. I wish he was here to give me one of his hugs. I swear I would let him hold me forever. I know
U need me to kick Rex’s ass for u?
No but you can get him to pick up the phone
U still wanna talk to him after what he did 2 u??
I missed his game
Still! But that was pretty messed up. Where were u?
Locker room
R u serious???
There’s stuff you don’t know
Like what?
I think about telling him about Shannon. But I can’t be the one to crush him. His dad needs to do that. Can’t tell you now but promise we’ll talk soon
What is it?
Can’t say right now. Anyway Rex isn’t picking up. Called 100 times
A little much don’t u think?
But I need to talk to him
U need to stop calling
But I really need to talk to him
Trust . . . stop calling him & he’ll call u
Fine, I text, swing my feet around to the floor, and stand up, thinking about how good those blueberry scones are about to be.
U saw the video?
I sit back down. What video?
Nothing. Don’t worry about it
Tell me
It’s nothing
Come on, Cole, I text, feeling myself getting mad.
Somebody filmed Rex’s meltdown last night
What?
Yeah . . . already has over 200k views. A snippet even made ESPN.
Seriously??? Was it really that newsworthy?
U know ppl love the drama
U made up your mind about where u wanna stay? Gotta talk 2 the judge in a few days
Staying with Mom
Dang . . . still staying with Dad
A light somewhere inside me goes out. I thought we were going to stay together
Come live with Dad
I can’t
Well I can’t live with Mom
Why?
Why can’t u live with Dad?
If only he knew. I catch a picture of the man I formerly called Daddy on my wall beside this gold-foiled starfish I made. He’s in Galveston sitting in a beach chair with sunglasses and a hat on. The back of my legs got stung by a jellyfish that day, and Mom had to rub meat tenderizer on me to soothe my stings. If only my wounds had such a simple remedy now. Come on Cole is all I can think to write back.
Come on Carli
Seriously??? So we’re going to live in different houses and go to different schools? You know I’m only going to be here for one more year
Trust me . . . I know
I don’t have a comeback for that. Only tears.
After a couple minutes, he texts again. Sucks but everything will be okay
Why do people always say that? It’s, like, the biggest lie.
REX
When I go downstairs, the TV in the living room isn’t on and there’s a note on the kitchen counter from my father saying he got called in. On a Sunday, though? Couldn’t he have said no? Blamed it on the storm? I mean, he saw what went down yesterday. He knows today has to be rough.
Clearly that doesn’t matter to him, just like my game didn’t matter to Carli. I don’t know why I keep fooling myself into believing that anyone actually cares.
After eating three bowls of Honey Nut Cheerios while watching the rain come down on the trees in sheets, I head back upstairs. In the hall, outside my door, the purple envelope is waiting on me like it knew I would be back sooner or later. Like it knew I’m so pathetic that I would eventually need whatever love it has to give.
I pick it up and carry it into my closet, where I feel safer. I lay it on my dresser, remembering Carli the night she sat here—her face, her lips, the new places I kissed and touched her.
I slip out the card. It’s handmade and looks like a collage. On the front, Carli’s handing me an orange-looking flower, and purple rays shoot from her chest to mine. I can’t even lie—it’s beautiful and it feels like magic. Like love is really flowing from her heart to mine.
I know I should put the card down, but I can’t. I open it.
A whole page of her words that look like art. Handwritten letters that bend and loop and stay straight in curious places. Ls that never want to be lowercase. Ts that never want to be the same—short, straight, long, curvy, and crooked strokes crossing at wide-ranging spots along stems, which sometimes curve up at the ends. I remember seeing her handwriting all over her walls, but looking at it now makes me feel like I’m seeing a part of her for the first time.
Rex,
I don’t think it’s possible to tell you everything in my heart. I don’t have the words for it. Like if I tried, they wouldn’t be enough.
“I love you” isn’t enough.
I swear loving you is the only thing saving me right now. You just don’t know, this past month has been the worst time in my life (other than when I’m with you or talking to you or thinking about you). My whole world is falling apart. It’s too much to write here, but I will say I haven’t been handling it well. It’s like I don’t know what to do or who I am and it’s making me feel crazy.
Sorry I took the bad stuff in my life out on you. You don’t deserve it. I’ll never treat you like that again. I promise. Please forgive me. I love you.
Yours forever (and the day after that, and the day after that),
Carli
I can’t, I think, wiping tears from my face. I just can’t. I leave the card in the closet and go get my phone.
CARLI
I finally see it. After single-handedly bringing the Rex Carrington’s Epic Tirade video up to 300,000 views on YouTube, I finally understand. Rex never loved me. He couldn’t have. He doesn’t know love.
The anger on his face made one thing clear: all he knows is pain. Every square inch inside of him is drenched in it. He tries to hide from it, but there’s no hiding. Tried to hide inside of me. He probably thought his hiding was love. I know I thought it was. And maybe I was hiding in him, too, I’ll admit.
But no more. I’m out. Done with whatever this screwed-up thing is that he calls love. I can’t do it anymore.
The booming thunder agrees. I’m still in bed, staring out my window, thoughts pouring down.
I deserve better than what he has to give.
Anyway, how could I ever trust him again after what he did to me?
I can’t.
It’s over.
My phone rings and I roll over in bed to grab it where I left it on my pillow, but it’s not there. I quickly sit up and throw my Kantha quilt back, my sheet back. Still don’t see it. Third ring. This can’t be happening. I lift my pillow and my stomach growls in relief. Still haven’t been out of my room to get those blueberry scones, but Cole was right. “Hello,” I answer.
“Hi,” Rex says, his voice as heavy as the rain coming down outside.
Hearing his tender voice puts me right back inside of him, and I send all the things I just told myself packing. I lie back down and reach to touch Rex’s face on the wall right above my pillow. I have the picture of us on the sofa pinned up between a sketch of a sunflower forest and a line from Kahlil Gibran’s Prophet.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart,
and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.
I look at it every night before I go to sleep and every morning when I wake up, trying to figure out what it means.
“I’m sorry about the video. About what people
are saying,” I tell him.
“What video?”
“Never mind,” I say, ready to play the tell-me game.
He doesn’t press for more.
“And I’m really sorry for missing your game,” I start to explain, “at the end of my game, Shannon—”
“Wait,” he interrupts. “I just called to say I can’t do this anymore. And I’m really sorry for what I did to you last night. It was wrong. I had no right. I was just so upset.”
Clearly he can’t mean what he’s saying? I get it because I was just thinking the same thing, but I didn’t mean it, either.
“You don’t mean that,” I say.
“Yes I do.”
“No you don’t.”
“Yes I do.”
“You’re just upset. But if you let me explain—”
“Look, Carli. I mean what I said. I can’t do this anymore. I was lonely before I met you, yeah. But I knew how to handle that. What I can’t deal with is you loving me one minute and pretending you don’t even know me the next. It’s making me crazy,” he says, and sniffs.
My heart disappears out of my chest as I try to decipher his words. “What do you mean loving you one minute? I’ve never stopped loving you. You don’t understand—”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t understand you. I thought I did, but really I don’t have a clue what’s going on inside you. But I can’t keep trying to figure it out. It’s messing up my life. I’m sorry, Carli, but it’s over.”
My heart is back, but it’s a thousand-pound weight in my chest. I don’t think my body can hold it. “What? No!” is all I can manage to say, tears strangling my words.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t see you or talk to you anymore,” he says, his voice cracking.
“Rex, please don’t do this. I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I—”
“Nah, love isn’t supposed to feel like this,” he says, his voice firming up.
“I know. I’m sorry. Please let me explain—”
“Nah, man. Nah.”
“But I thought you said you loved me.”
“What? I poured it all out to you. Every little ounce of the love I had. You think you’re the only one with problems?” His voice is hard. “Well, you’re not. I’m dealing with some pretty fucked-up shit over here, too, Carli. Even still, I’ve always been there for you. From the very beginning. But you haven’t done the same for me. And I’ve already heard all the apologies and never agains I’m going to hear. Look”—and he softens his tone—“I’m sorry. I just can’t do this.”