A Lover's Lament(24)
“You were a good kid. Incredibly resilient considering everything you went through.” The fact that he used past tense to describe me as ‘a good kid’ further convinces me that tonight will end differently than I had originally planned. “After a few months of that, when things got really bad, your mom got very angry with us. She told us to never come back. We’ve always wanted to continue helping, but we also wanted to respect her wishes.” I nod, unsure of what to say. I’m not certain where he’s going with this at all, unless he’s just allowing me to reflect on my life before he takes it. But what I do know is that I don’t need him to remind me of the choices my mom has made.
I think back to that night, seven years ago, when Mom, all messed up on Percocet and cocaine, completely lost it on the Devoras. She destroyed half of the breakables in our house as they stood shocked in the doorway with freshly made lasagna in one hand and a new book bag for me in the other. She screamed about them taking pity on her… saying that they were trying to prove they were better parents than she was. They reluctantly left me there with her as she continued destroying the rest of the house and subsequently went on a two-week bender. When she came out of it, she ordered me never to see the Devoras again. Seeing as I am head over heels in love with their daughter and always have been, that was never an option. I got pretty good at sneaking around, and my mom was usually too f*cked up to know what was happening anyway.
“So, do you know what I’m trying to say?” Mr. Devora’s words tear into my thoughts, and I realize I’ve missed the last part of what he said.
“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t really.” My words are barely audible and I avoid making eye contact with him.
“What I’m saying is, I understand your situation isn’t ideal. Shit, to be perfectly honest, it sucks. You weren’t dealt the best hand in life, but I just want to make sure you never let that dictate your future. It’s easy to fall into a familiar cycle.” I cock my head and do my best to interpret his last words. In my understanding, he just said ‘don’t be a f*ck-up like your mom.’ I try my absolute hardest to keep my face from showing how offended I really am, especially coming from him. “There are a lot of good schools in the area and a lot of good programs. Have you thought much about what you’d like to do next?” he asks.
I want to lie and say yes, but I don’t even know what I’d pretend to be interested in, not to mention the fact that I won’t even be here.
“No, I haven’t really figured it out just yet.” I feel foolish saying it, and I can feel his judgmental eyes lumping me in with all the other Tennessee trailer park trash, so I quickly scan my brain for something else—anything that would prove my worth to him. But inevitably, there’s nothing to say but the truth. “I’ll actually be moving to Pennsylvania in the next few days with my mom. So, I’ll have to figure something out up there.”
Mr. Devora’s mouth drops open and he cocks his head to the side as though he’s trying to decide if he heard me right. And then it happens. His brows furrow and his eyes harden, and I get the distinct feeling that this is it. I just pissed off the daddy bear.
Fuck. Diverting my eyes, I search for some way to get out of this conversation … hide under a rock, maybe? Peace Corps? Antarctica exploration? Anything to get me as far away from this man as possible.
“So you’re leaving?”
I nod, and when he stays silent, I take a chance and look up.
“It’s your mom, isn’t it?” His words throw me off because I was expecting him to be pissed at me. But judging by the tone of his voice, he’s pissed for me.
“My grandmother, actually. She isn’t doing well. They’re talking about putting her on hospice and Mom wants to be closer to her.”
“Wow.” He blows out a slow breath and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry about your grandma, and I’m sorry to hear that you’re leaving.”
“Yeah,” I grunt. “I’m not really happy about it.”
“I bet.” We both go silent, and it’s not a comfortable sort of silence. It’s more of an awkward silence where I can tell that he wants to say something, and I know that it’ll be something I don’t want to hear. “So, what does this mean for you and Katie?”
There it is. “I’m not really sure, sir. I care about your daughter—a lot—and I’m not … I don’t ...” I clear my throat, frustrated because my words don’t seem to want to come out. “I really want us to stay together. I—”
"Listen," he interrupts. “How is this going to work? How are the two of you going to make it when you’ll be living so far away?” He holds up a hand when I open my mouth to speak, and that just pisses me off. “I know you’re going to tell me that you’ll come back, and I believe that you will. But what will you do when you come back? Where will you live? Will you go to college, and if so, how will you pay for it? Where will you work?” With each word out of his mouth, my heart beats faster because I don’t have those answers. His eyes lock on something over my shoulder for a couple of seconds before landing on me. “I want to see you succeed, Devin, I really do. But I love my daughter with all of my heart, and I want the best for her.”
All those years of knowing him, all the talks we’ve had and the bonding that’s been done flies right out of the window with his last statement. In not so many words, he just told me that he doesn’t believe in me and I’m not good enough. I wish he’d just come right out and say it.