“Craig,” I say as I walk over to my bed and tug at his heavy forearm, trying to wake him. “Just a heads up. My father is on his way to my room.”
I wish I could push my door open wide so the second my dad walks up he’ll get a full view of just how many fucks I give at the moment. The only thing stopping me is Craig. He’s a student too and would get into trouble for being caught in the girls’ dorm. So I’m stuck with the only alternative. Continuing to ignore my dad.
“He’s what?” Craig says, eyes flying open with panic. My father has a way of making an impression on the students here. It’s not a bad one, but they know how strict he can be. He makes it to his feet quickly, grabbing his clothes, shoes and jacket from my floor.
“You don’t have to leave.” I shrug, turning away. My blanket drags on the floor as I walk to my dresser in search of clothes.
“Like hell,” he whispers as if my father is already standing outside the door. I pull a red T-shirt from the drawer as Craig fumbles behind me, getting dressed I assume.
“Relax,” I say, turning to him. “We’ll just stay quiet. He’ll think I’m gone and he’ll leave.”
“But last night you said you were avoiding him. What if he has the guard open your door?”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“Fuck that. You don’t know. If I'm caught in here, I'm fucked. I'm already on probation.” His pants are buttoned but not zipped, his T-shirt is on backward, and his shoes are untied, but he dashes to the door. Gently, he twists the knob, opening the door just a crack at first, then he peeks his head out in both directions. I roll my eyes and continue to get dressed, sliding into my red shirt, pulling it over my head.
By the time I look back, Craig is gone and the door is wide open. Heaviness fills my chest as I realize that any second my father will appear at my door, and if I leave it open I will be forced to see him. Am I ready for that? It would’ve been one thing if Craig was still here; it might have stopped me from bringing up the cafe. I wouldn’t do that in front of Craig. My family shit is none of his business and it would’ve stopped me, but my dad and I here alone is another thing. My anger starts to boil and the heaviness that filled my chest is replaced with disgust. With clenched fists, I storm over to my door and slam it shut. Tears spring to my eyes as the echo rings in my ears. I’m so pissed. So hurt I could throw something. Just as I’m wondering how much trouble I’d get into for throwing my alarm clock through the glass window, I hear a loud knock, followed by my father’s voice.
“Hey girls, it’s me, open up.”
I bite my lip as two tears fall from my lashes and roll down my cheeks. He needs to leave. I just can’t.
“Xia? Shana? I know at least one of you is in there. Why’d you slam the door?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, a sob pulling hard at my gut as I listen to the voice of the man I thought would never lie to me. A man who would never hurt my mother. I didn’t think it was possible. My hands cover my mouth and I try to breathe through my nose. I can't tell if I'm about to scream or break into pieces, but when I hear him call my name again my resolve breaks.
“Just go away,” I yell, releasing all the tension that has been building in my chest.
For a second, I don’t hear anything, but I know he’s still there.
“Xia? Xia, baby. Open the door.” Panic rises in his tone and he tries twisting the door handle.
“No, I need you to go away, Dad.” I’m frantically wiping at my eyes, attempting to pull myself together.
“Why?” he asks. I can hear the slight change in his tone. The hurt from hearing me speak to him this way. I’ve never disrespected my father, never so much as raised my voice to him. We’ve always been close. “Jelly bean, open the door right now.”
“I’m asking you to . . .”
“If you don’t open up, I will open it for you. Last chance.”
“You know what?” I take the two steps to the door and fling it open so hard that it bounces off the wall with a loud bang. “Fine. come in, father.”
He walks through the door, concern and a hint of frustration dripping from his expression. “What in the hell is going on?” he says, shutting the door behind him and stepping into the room.
“I don’t know, Dad. How about you tell me what’s going on?” A deep crease forms between his brows as he takes me in, clearly confused. “I wasn’t ready to talk about this, but fine, let’s talk.” I’m pacing the floor, staring at him as he stands speechless in the middle of my bedroom. I don’t feel in control. Tingles shoot through my body and my words spill out as the pain that’s been building for the last two days releases.
“You aren’t making any sense. Just calm down and tell me what’s going on.”
"How was your trip this week… to Tulsa? Anything out of the ordinary happen?"
"No, it was fine. What's wrong with you?"
"Oh, really. So, nothing to report?" He doesn't respond this time and the look on his face tells me he's starting to catch on.
"Jelly bean. Whatever you think you—"
“Jordan and I saw you the other day with a girl in a coffee shop. God, Dad, she was practically the same age as me. How could you do this to Mom?"
There’s a long pause and I imagine what he must be thinking, hearing those words.
"Listen. Sweetheart…” His tone is a lot less confident than it was moments ago. “There's a lot we need to talk about.”
“How could you do this?” My words come out as a screech as I spin toward him. “I saw you touching her, holding her hand. What the hell, Dad? Is this what you’ve been doing all this time? On your so called ‘work conferences’?”
“No. I went to Tulsa. I did have a conference.”
“So, I’m just imagining things then? I imagined seeing you at that café, then imagined the text where you lied to me saying you were about to board a plane?”
The light that usually twinkles in his eyes has dimmed. There’s no anger. No shame. If anything, he seems more surprised, stunned to have been caught. I don’t recognize this man and the pain of that realization makes me want to break down.
“You’re not imagining things,” he says, stepping closer to me. “I need you to come home for dinner Saturday night. We all need to talk about this.”
“Oh, right, dinner. Do you really think I’m going to sit across the table from you as I wait for you to say the words that will kill my mother?”
“It won’t kill her.”
“Did you cheat?” I ask, looking into his eyes for the first time since he got here. “Did you cheat on my mother?” Everything goes still as all the air leaves my lungs. Looking at him hurts. My heart feels like its crumbling in on itself as I watch him choke over his words. His hesitation breaks me and tears begin to stream from my eyes. I know the answer, it’s clear, but I am still praying with everything I have that he’ll reveal a logical explanation. Something. Anything to make this nightmare end.
A look that I’ve never seen grows on his face. His rich caramel skin loses its usual glow. The corners of his mouth turn down. His eyes grow glassy and in this moment he seems smaller. His six-foot-two inch frame shrinking before my eyes.