We finished our awkward dinner in silence. When we returned to the apartment, we trailed single file back up the stairs. Jolene squeezed my hand briefly as she passed my door.
“I’ll call you later,” I told her.
“Not this weekend,” Dad said. “If he can’t talk to me with respect, he’s not talking to anyone else,” he added to Jolene.
Our standoff in the hall was significantly longer than the one at the restaurant, but the result was the same. I caved, he won, and I left Jolene in the hallway.
“This ends right now.” Dad didn’t waste any time once he got that door shut. “Do you hear me?”
“Yeah, I hear you.” I was standing toe-to-toe with him, saying the words he wanted to hear but not fooling either of us that I was capitulating.
I’d broached new territory by confronting him in public. I’d felt kind of brilliant for standing up to him instead of only shutting him out, but that feeling had withered quickly. He hadn’t been impressed or intimidated by my challenge. He’d gotten mad—really mad.
Jeremy, who normally considered me getting chewed out to be the finest spectator sport ever invented, disappeared into Dad’s room and shut the door. I was going to have to deal with him, too, and explain why I couldn’t make it two hours before relapsing into my old hostility even after we’d agreed it was the wrong move. It had felt like the right move, standing up for Jolene when no one else did. But Dad wouldn’t know that, and it wasn’t an excuse.
“You don’t get to call the shots over here. If you try to pull anything like that again—” He lost his words. “It’s not happening. You can hate me, you can think whatever you want, but you are going to quit the isolationist act right now. I’m not putting up with any more of the attitude or the silent treatment. That room—” he pointed to my bedroom “—is for sleeping. You don’t hide in there the second you arrive and stay in there the whole weekend. You don’t blow off your brother and me to hang out with anyone else either.”
His anger abated for a moment. “I get that that girl might not have a lot of people in her life that care about her, and I’m glad you do, but...” His anger built back up. “I’m done letting you dictate how things go. I miss my son.” Somehow that last statement was the angriest of all. “I mean, what is this? I know you’re mad about your mom and me—and you’d better not be pulling any of this with her—”
“I’m not.”
“—but you need to get over that and get on board with reality right quick. This is your reality. Right here. And it’s mine and Jeremy’s and your mom’s, too. This is what we have. Not forever, I promise you that, but you’re making it harder for everyone, yourself included. If you could try—”
“Like you’re trying? It’s not enough, Dad. Every weekend that she’s there and we’re here—” and I made sure he knew I was talking about more than Jeremy and me “—it’s not enough.” I wanted him to listen to what he was saying and realize his words were just as true for him as they were for me. I was tired of it. All of it. That was why I’d agreed to try with Dad. But it was a lot harder than I’d thought. I had months of resentment built up, and I couldn’t make it go away in one night. “Try harder.”
Of all the stuff I’d said that night, those two words seemed to hurt him the most.
I went to my room without another word.
Jolene
Adam’s dad had found his spine at the cheesesteak place, and he wasn’t losing it anytime soon. The “family night” he referred to wouldn’t be fun for either of them. Either way, we’d said goodbye, and I lingered in the hallway, eyeing the door to Dad’s apartment like it was Pandora’s box and if I opened it, all the evil in the world would come rushing out.
Or, you know, Shelly.
“What is it with you and hallways?”
I turned my head and there was Guy, casual as could be, leaning against his doorframe. “Me?” I asked. “Are you talking to me? I thought we’d moved on to barely nodding at each other in stairways.”
“Come on. Don’t be mad about that. You were heading out. I figured you wouldn’t want me explaining that you spent your birthday with me after I found you crying alone out here.”
The memory of that night stung. “So you ignored me for my benefit? Thank you for that. Let me repay you.” I turned and walked down the hall—away from Dad’s apartment. I made it only a few steps when I slowed. That direction didn’t hold many more options for me than the other one did.
“I wasn’t ignoring you. I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your boyfriend.”
“Adam’s not my boyfriend.”
“Whatever you say, Jolene.” Then he stepped to the side, leaving the door to his apartment wide-open. “You want to come in or...?” His gaze slid past me to rest on the door to Dad’s apartment.
What I wanted was to hang out with Adam, but that door had literally been shut in my face. My other option wasn’t an option at all. And Guy knew that.
It would have been awkward to explain how Guy and I had met. Plus, Adam’s dad might have gotten the wrong idea, and it wasn’t like I needed to give him another reason to dislike me. Adam might have gotten the wrong idea, too, and I definitely didn’t need that.
Sometimes, when I thought about it, I got the wrong idea. Even though Guy hadn’t done anything besides feed me and listen to me. He hadn’t tried to touch me or anything. The whole thing was innocent. And I needed his help if I was going to submit my application for the film program. Still, it nagged at me that I had to mentally tell myself that it was okay for us to hang out.
“Yeah, I’m coming.”
We ended up watching a movie. It was an old black-and-white film that didn’t make a lot of sense to me. Guy loved it. He kept commenting on the brilliance of a camera angle, or a line of dialogue that I had to admit was impressive. He wanted me to watch another movie after that, and when I said sure, he pushed himself off the couch by putting one hand on the armrest and the other on my knee. The touch lasted like two seconds tops. He didn’t look at me or let his hand linger or anything. But I still jumped a little. I mentally shook myself, grateful he hadn’t noticed my reaction, as Guy busied himself switching the movies.
Remote in hand, Guy joined me back on the couch, where I was still sitting rather stiffly despite telling myself to relax. “Cold?”
I shook my head.
“You look cold.” His upper body leaned over mine, against mine, and my breath strangled in my throat. Guy didn’t pull back. He turned his head and flicked his eyebrows up at me. “I’m just grabbing you the throw.” He drew my gaze to a fuzzy gray blanket that I hadn’t noticed. He was already fisting it in his hand when I looked, had been since the second he leaned—not over me, but past me. I tried to shrink back into the cushion, worried that he’d suggest I leave because I kept freaking out over nothing. But he didn’t.