Someone Else's Ocean(2)

The doctor’s eyes bounced between us. “They’re finishing up now, but you can go back.”

The walk down the stark white corridor was hell on earth. I was thankful the injuries weren’t severe and said a little prayer of gratitude. No feeling in the world had ever been worse than that phone call from the paramedics.

Ella perked up when I walked into the room behind her mother. Her eyes wide and lingering on her bright purple cast before she gave me a weak smile. She lifted her hands as I leaned in and kissed her forehead. I beat her to the punch, signing to her.



Had to go and break a leg, brat?



She grinned. You’re such an asshole, Daddy.



Does it hurt much?



Not too bad.



Who was driving?



She lifted her hands reluctantly. Jessica.



It was my worst fear as a parent. Most kids don’t pay much attention in driving school—I know I didn’t—and did the bare minimum just to get their driving freedom. Unfortunately, all you needed as a sixteen-year-old to get a license was decent eyesight and a little confidence to obtain that independence. With her friend Jessica being deaf and a new driver in a car full of deaf friends, she was already at a disadvantage. Sirens from speeding ambulances, warning sounds from car horns, and skidding brakes were forever silenced. Add youth and the fact that the girls relied solely on their hands for communication and it was a recipe for this father’s worst nightmare. There were plenty of deaf and hard of hearing drivers on the road. I knew Ella would be a responsible and defensive driver when she got her license, but it did little to ease my nerves. She was still a year away from driving on her own and I was selfishly thankful for that blessing. My relief was cut short when I found out Ella had plenty of friends already behind the wheel. I had all but begged her mother to keep her away from the shitty clique of impressionable girls who were too old for her to hang out with. Tara hadn’t taken my pleas under consideration. It was another reason for my irritation with her that day. Ignoring the surfacing anger toward her mother, I spoke to my daughter to keep the peace. Still, I couldn’t help my hands.



You’re fourteen. You don’t need to be hanging out with sixteen-year-old girls.



Ella guffawed audibly and rolled her eyes.



I’m not that much younger. I turn fifteen next week. And I don’t need a lecture. It was an accident.



Don’t roll your eyes at me. And you’ll get lectures until I’m dead. What happened?



I could see in Ella’s hesitance to answer that the accident was Jessica’s fault. And though it might not have anything to do with her disadvantage, her slow hands reluctant to respond told me different. Reading my face, Ella stiffened, her anger simmering. She was a lot like me and hated to admit when she was wrong.



I don’t want to talk about it. I’m hurt and sleepy. Go back to work, Daddy.



Okay. I’ll let you get to sleep. FaceTime me every day while you’re in Houston. I’ll miss you. Be good for your mother. With the sign of a P, I rubbed my hand over my chest. Promise?



Promise. Love you.



Love you, brat.



I looked over at Tara and signed while I spoke. “Stay safe and have a good trip.”



Tara nodded, a distant look in her eyes, her porcelain skin tinted red in anger or embarrassment from our earlier exchange. I’d broken free from the responsibility of figuring her out when I left her a year ago. Her behavior was strange, but then again, we’d been strangers for years. Tara was good at reinventing herself every new moon, and I’d spent enough of my life figuring out who she’d decided to be with each moon that passed. I blew her bullshit off as a reaction to Ella being hurt. Taking my leave, I moved a few steps toward the door when Tara’s earlier question began to gnaw at me.

“So, they did a blood test?”

A new sort of awareness plucked at my spine as I opened the door and froze. Sweat gathered at my temple as I turned to see my ex-wife had been staring at my retreating back. I stood statue-still as my daughter read my posture.



Daddy? What’s wrong?



My gaze drifted over Ella—she had pale skin to my olive complexion, light hair to my dark, and deep-sea blue eyes to my gray.

In an attempt to mask the fear racing through me, I forced a smile worthy of an Oscar as my gaze drifted to Tara. If it was guilt etched all over her face, if I was reading her right—which I’d become a pro at over the years—every-fucking-thing was wrong.



Ella raised her hands, a frightened look on her face. What’s wrong?



I glared at Tara who sank in her chair confirming my worst fear. Apparently, there was a feeling worse than what I felt just hours ago.



Ella waved frantically for my attention.



Daddy, what is it?



It’s okay, sweetheart. I just need a minute with your mother. Tara, I need to speak to you outside.



I walked the hall quietly, trying to steady my heartbeat with even breaths as she followed slightly behind me. I made it to the garage barely able to handle the rattle under my skin from the rage that threatened.

I turned on Tara abruptly and she stopped just short of hitting my chest. She was beautiful. At one point in time, I thought she was the most beautiful woman alive. At one point in time, I couldn’t imagine a life without her. At one point in time, I would’ve taken a bullet for her, no questions asked. She had been my life. She had been my purpose, my meaning, my everything. Seething, I fisted my hands at my sides and tried to hold my bite, but it was impossible. I prayed I would owe her an apology for the thoughts that surfaced.