Every Other Weekend(88)

I could see the automatic response form on Dad’s lips before he squashed it, and I also saw Jolene grow uncomfortable. She set her half-eaten cheesesteak on the table and spent a solid minute wiping her hands clean on a napkin.

He’d been going to say anytime, except he didn’t mean anytime. If we’d been back home with Mom, he’d have gladly offered Jolene a seat at our dining room table whenever she wanted it. But we weren’t sitting around the table he and Mom had restored on their honeymoon. We were in a greasy fast-food place miles away.

That was Dad’s version of trying. He’d asked Mom to do something she wasn’t ready to do, but instead of staying and helping her get to that place with him, he’d cut and run.

Somewhere between talking to Jeremy and witnessing Dad at that support group, I’d started to forget that fact. Dad had just given me a huge reminder.

As the conversation died around us, my high from the newly minted truce between Jeremy and Jolene went with it. I found myself glaring at him. I felt Jeremy’s eyes boring into me, and I could practically hear him saying, Not the plan, bro. I turned to Jolene and stood up.

“Let’s go.”

Jolene looked from me to Dad as he said, “Go where?”

“Out. I don’t know.”

To Jolene, Dad said, “We’d love to have you join us for dinner again sometime, but I think we need to spend time together as a family tonight.”

“What. Family?” I said, biting off each word. “Mom didn’t get out of the car when she dropped us off, and I didn’t see you waiting on the curb.”

Wrong. Wrong thing to say. Jeremy tossed the rest of his sandwich on his plate and rolled his eyes at me.

Dad looked at me. “Sit down. Now.” His voice was low so as not to carry to the surrounding tables, but a few people were looking anyway.

Heat rushed to my face. Jeremy was glancing back and forth between Dad and me like he wasn’t sure what I was going to do, if I really was going to try to stare down our father. Try being the operative word, because we both knew how well that would turn out.

Jolene made things both better and worse. Her presence gave me the guts to consider holding my ground, but she was also the reason I sat back down. Watching Dad drag me out of a restaurant by the collar was not the cool image I cared to present her with. And Dad’s expression said he’d do it. I sat down while it was still my decision to do so. At least Dad gave me that.

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.”