He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. “I came here to see my children. To talk.”
“To talk?” I chuckle humorlessly. “Now you want to talk?”
“Nixon…”
“No, don’t Nixon me. You have no right, Dad. Fuck it, you don’t even deserve to be called a dad.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly, trust me. I don’t give a damn about what you need or want now, I just want you gone. As far away from Jade and me as possible.”
We don’t need somebody who’ll pack his shit and leave at the first sign of trouble, not when there is so much uncertainty in our lives as it is.
“I loved her!” he yells. I can hear the desperation in his voice. I just don’t have it in me to care.
“If you loved her you’d have stayed!”
He shakes his head, running his fingers through his perfectly styled hair. He should have tried to look more heartbroken. “She was dying. My wife was dying.”
“My mom was dying too. Jade’s mom was dying, and you weren’t here for us. For her.”
“I couldn’t have gone through this. Not again. Watching Helen fight cancer the first time was hard enough.”
“Well neither could I, yet I stayed.”
We stare at each other, both of us panting hard. Finally, he shakes his head and turns to leave.
“Sure, leave,” I yell after him. “After all, that’s what you’re best at.”
I wait until the door closes behind him. Once I’m sure he’s gone I let my rage out. Grabbing the nearest thing to me, I throw it across the room. There is a loud cracking sound as the chair hits the wall and breaks in half.
“Fucking hell.”
My chest is rising and falling rapidly, following the wild beat of my heart.
How dare he? How dare he come after all this time and pretend that everything is all right? What did he think? That we’d accept him with open arms like nothing has happened? Fuck that.
Turning around, I kick another chair. This one slides across the room.
I inhale deeply.
I need to calm the fuck down before I destroy half the house and make an even bigger mess out of things.
“What is wrong with you?”
At the sound of Jade’s voice I turn toward the doorway. Her wide eyes look at me like I’ve gone crazy. Maybe I have.
I don’t know what the hell to do any more. There’s this anger, this rage inside of me, swirling and boiling, and if I don’t get it out, I feel like I’m going to burst.
“Me? What’s wrong with you? Why did you let him in?”
Jade glares at me. “I didn’t realize I had to let him in to his own house.”
“A house that he left of his own free will! Or did you forget that?”
“I didn’t forget anything, Nixon. But I’m also not about to chase away our last family member. He’s our dad.”
“Dad would have stayed, and he hasn’t!”
She crossed her arms across her chest, her chin lifting a notch. “Hello pot, meet kettle.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask quietly, my eyes narrowing at her.
“That means that you’re hardly one to say anything.”
“I was here.” I point at my chest. “I was here…”
“You were here when it suited you!” Jade interrupts me. Her lip quivers, but she doesn’t back down. “The only person who had to be here, day in day out, was me. Me, Nixon. I didn’t leave for college. I didn’t spend most of the week shooting the shit with my friends and playing football. I. Was. Here. I watched her puke her guts out. I listened to her cry late at night when she thought I was sleeping. I gave her medications so she wouldn’t be in so much pain. I helped her take showers and fed her. Me.” She points her finger at her chest. Tears are shining in her eyes but she doesn’t let them fall. “So, don’t you go pretending you’re any different. He was wrong, but he’s the only parent we have left. What the hell do you suppose I should do? Huh? If he’s not here then I have nobody.”
Every word she says is like a punch to my gut and, by the time she’s done, I can barely hold it together. The guilt I’ve been pushing back is slowly rising to the surface and suffocating me.
“I’m here,” I grit through clenched teeth.
“For how long exactly?”
“And you think he’ll stay any longer?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “But I’m willing to give him a chance to find out.”
“Fine, you give him a chance, but don’t expect me to stay around and watch him leave one more time.”
With that, I storm out of the house before I say something I’ll regret even more than the words I already do.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
YASMIN
“That will be all for today’s class. I’ll see you all next week,” Dr. Stevens says, dismissing the class.
People around me start gathering their things and getting up, snapping me out of the daze I’ve been in.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to concentrate. Not when the ghost of Nixon was so strong, especially between these four walls. My gaze seemed to find a way to his seat more often than not, the hollowness in my chest growing every time I’d realize he’s not here.
“You going?”
I turn to look at Heidi. “Yeah, sure.”
Quickly collecting my things, I listen to her chatter about one of her classes that’s been driving her crazy.
“Miss Hernandez?”
Turning around at the sound of my name, I see Dr. Stevens still standing at the podium.
“Yes?”
I slow my step until I come to a stop. It’s not exactly unusual for her to ask somebody to stay after class, but it’s not her regular practice either.
Did something happen?
She looks calm, but for some reason, that doesn’t give me comfort. Did I do something? Did she notice that my mind has been wandering? God, I’m an even bigger mess than I thought if my professors can see it.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” Her eyes fall on Heidi standing by my side. “In private?”
I gulp and nod my agreement. Heidi’s big eyes meet mine. The uneasiness I’m feeling is written all over her face, but she tries to cover it with a shrug.
Talk later? she mouths, at which I nod once again.
I watch her go before slowly moving toward the desk where Dr. Stevens is waiting patiently. We stay quiet as a few more students roll out. They give me curious glances which do nothing to calm down my nerves. Different possibilities on what could be the cause of this conversation cross my mind, but the only thing it does is upset me even further.
“Is something wrong?” I ask as soon as we’re alone, slowly clenching and unclenching my fingers by my sides. My hands shake slightly, a light sheen of sweat covering my palms. This reminds me too much of my senior year in high school. One year that, if I could erase it from my mind, I’d do it in heartbeat.
“I’ve really admired your work so far. You seem like a dedicated student who loves to learn and is careful about what she says, and makes sure her answers are correct before voicing them out loud. Every pop quiz you’ve solved almost to perfection. Every essay you’ve submitted so far was extremely well written and thought out. You dig deep, questioning most of the things even some of my older students don’t.”