My body ached. There’d be bruises tomorrow, but no one would see. I’d carry the pain and the shame just like I always did. What got me through was that, one day, I’d face my father. Man to coward. One day, I wouldn’t hold back like I did now. One day, it would be me who stirred fear. Me who made him cower. I fucking couldn’t wait for that day.
My thoughts turned to Cedar and her untouched innocence that for a guy like me was a drug. I could feast on that, on her, drain her dry, and in the process, I’d destroy her. I’d take all she had to give and give her nothing in return. It was why I’d pulled back, to shield her beauty from my ugly. It was why I was going to pull back again. I climbed into bed, careful to avoid putting pressure on my back. I hadn’t cried when he beat me, but thinking about Cedar, the look on her face when I went back to ignoring her, while her painful words from earlier still rang in my head had the tears falling.
I sat in the back of the class during independent study. Cedar was up front. She wasn’t sketching; she just sat there, looking down at her desk. She didn’t get in my face, didn’t call me a dick. She just accepted me stepping back again, and I knew she did because she had tried when we were fifteen. She had done everything to get through to me. Camped out in my backyard, called me every ten minutes. She’d even snuck into my room one night, her plan to force me to talk. We didn’t talk. I held her, like you would a lifeline, because that was what she was to me. I watched slowly as my best friend’s heart broke, watched as her big green eyes filled with confusion, anger and then pain. She fought daily for a solid six months, tried for a year to reach me and then she gave up.
It was hard having what you wanted most in reaching distance and knowing you couldn’t have it. There was no future for us. I knew that, deep down, I had always known it, but it didn’t stop me from wanting her. Even for just a little while.
After school, I pulled into my driveway to see my dad’s car. He was never home this early, hell, he was never home. Entering the house, I followed the sound of voices to the kitchen. When I entered, he turned to me and smiled. I hadn’t seen my dad smile; shit, I didn’t know when the last time was he smiled. And this coming on the back of last night, it was fair to say I was having a what the fuck moment. Mom was there, starting early on her bottle of wine. I couldn’t say I blamed her.
He walked over, lifted his hand, and I flinched. He grabbed my shoulder and squeezed it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Tell him what? What the fuck was going on?
He laughed, he fucking laughed. “Alright, I won’t push.” He squeezed my shoulder again before he dropped his hand. “Have you applied early for Yale? Unnecessary that you have to apply at all, being a legacy and us being who we are.” He walked to the fridge, pulled it open and grabbed a bottle of water.
“No.” The plan since I was born was I’d go to Yale, like him, and take over his firm. I wasn’t asked, it was assumed. That didn’t work for me.
Dad was taking a drink, but he lowered the bottle. “No, you haven’t applied early?”
“No, I’m not going to Yale, and I’m not taking over for you.”
His almost jovial demeanor shifted to one I was more familiar with, his voice menacing when he asked, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m not going to college, and I haven’t decided what I want to do with my life.”
His expression darkened. That look entered his eyes: the one I knew meant he was feeling physical. If he thought he could beat me into submission, he was in for a surprise.
“Come again.”
“You heard me. The only reason I haven’t left already is because you have a long reach, but I’m working on it.”
“On what?” my dad snarled.
I was purposely provoking him, knew just what buttons to push, because after hurting Cedar again, I deserved to feel some pain. “On getting out from under your manipulative and abusive thumb.”
“My what?”
“Come on, Dad. There’s no one here; you don’t have to pretend. If you’re not putting your cock in some random bitch, you’re hitting me with either words or fists. I get it…” I looked over at my mom who was in a drug and alcohol induced haze. “You broke your wife; you need some entertainment.”
“How dare you—”
“Seriously. You think you have any right to be outraged. You’ve been abusing me since I was a little kid. Your disinterest in your wife turned her into a fucking zombie. I’m guessing you spread it around because you probably can’t get it up.”
The punch knocked me back. Unlike usual, he went for the face. Stars filled my vision, but even as my face throbbed, I smiled. “That was careless. What will people think?”
I’d never seen him like he was, as if the mask he wore was removed, and the monster that lived under it came to the surface. He was ugly, I already knew that, but he was evil too.
“You will do as I say,” he hissed.
“No. I won’t.”
It was a day of firsts because the look on his face was like I’d hit him. My dad was methodical, thinking everything through, but not then. He reacted when he roared, “Get the fuck out. I won’t waste another cent on you.”
“That works for me.”
I didn’t go to my room. There was nothing in it that I wanted. My car was mine, paid for by me. I walked right by him, met his hard stare with one of my own. My mother had nothing to say. Not a single word. I walked out without so much as a goodbye.
It wasn’t until I was down the street that I pulled over, almost opened the car door, because I felt sick. It wasn’t over. I knew that. My dad would calm down, regroup, before he came at me again and hit me even harder. He’d take my not toeing the line as a personal insult because it looked bad that he didn’t have control over his son, that his son wouldn’t do what was expected of him. It wasn’t about me; it was all about him and his image.
I had some things to think about, but right now, I needed a place to stay. I headed to the garage, but I couldn’t help but wonder what it was that had him in such a good mood. What was it I’d done that I hadn’t told him? I didn’t give it much thought because, whatever it was, if it made him happy, I wouldn’t be doing it again. Parking around back, I used my key and entered through the back door. I wasn’t there for more than a minute when Harry appeared.
“There are cold drinks in the fridge. Help yourself. You staying longer, you can stock it with food. Use the kitchen in my place, if needed.”
I opened my mouth to thank him, but he cut me off. “Paying it forward. Was where you are, someone offered me a hand. Thank me by continuing the tradition.”