Underneath the Sycamore Tree(22)

Slipping out of bed, I stretch my stiff muscles and go to the bay window that I have yet to make into a reading nook. I used to tell Mama that I always wanted one, so I could put pillows and blankets on it and read while enjoying the view. Unfortunately, the view is nothing more than a paved driveway, stone pathway, and a few perfectly trimmed flower bushes between the street and sidewalk. The only time sitting here is worthwhile is when I see Kaiden sneaking in and out.

Sometimes he’ll come back looking angry, sometimes looking happier than when he stormed away. Does he go to the tree? Or does he go somewhere else? Does he meet up with Rachel or another girl? He hasn’t come back with any more shiners, and the one on his face is nothing more than a faded yellow bruise. Soon it’ll be like it never existed.

Pushing off the wall, I crack open my bedroom door. It’s quiet, since it’s not even five in the morning. There’s no light except for the tiny one illuminating over the sink in the kitchen. I gravitate toward it, wanting a glass of water to quench my dry throat.

When I turn around, I’m startled by Dad standing in the doorway in a pair of dark pajamas bottoms and a t-shirt. He looks tired, but more surprised than anything.

“I thought I heard someone up.”

I just nod.

He clears his throat. “Figured it’d be Kaiden, to be honest.” Walking over to the cupboard, he grabs a glass and fills it with water just like me. “Can’t sleep?”

It feels weird to be having a conversation with him like the restaurant never happened. I can avoid bringing it up, pretend it doesn’t matter, but it does.

“I had a dream about Logan and Mama.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then, “Do you want to talk about it?”

It’s a painful question, like he’s silently begging me to say no. I take pity on him. “It isn’t anything I can’t handle. I’ve been doing that for a while—dealing with things on my own.”

I feel no guilt when he winces slightly at the statement. “I deserve that. We should probably talk about what happened.”

I want to ask him when. When I was little? At the restaurant? All of it? Instead, I stay quiet and follow him toward the table.

He pulls out a seat and sits, so I do the same at my usual spot. We’re surrounded by silence for a moment, nothing but the soft hum of the refrigerator filling the open space.

“Cam knows,” is what he begins with. “I have always been upfront about you girls and your mother with her.”

How relieving. Not. “Did you leave us for her? Or were you too afraid of us falling apart and ruining your reputation?”

I never knew what happened. I’m not sure I want to know now, after spending years coming up with my own theories … accepting that it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. Maybe it does though, because time feeds the bitterness festering under my skin.

He unwraps his fingers from the glass and slowly nods. “I know it seemed like I loved my work more than you girls, but—”

“Don’t lie,” I cut him off. “I deserve answers after all these years, don’t you agree? I don’t want you to bullshit me like you did Mama.”

“Emery,” he warns firmly. “If there is one person that I’ve always been honest with, it’s your mother.”

I’m silent, unsure of what to say in return. Mama never told me that Dad lied, but she never told me why he left. He was just gone one morning and never returned. Lo and I thought of plenty of reasons why he went away, but Mama never confirmed or denied any of them.

“Why?” I whisper.

“We fell out of love.”

No response.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the table. Mama used to scold all of us for doing that when we lived together. “I know it’s hard to understand, but people don’t always stay in love like in the books you read. The fairytale ending is just fiction, it’s not real life. Your mother and I weren’t good together, and we didn’t want to subject you girls to it.”

Life isn’t a fairytale? I scoff. “Do you think I’m a total idiot or just na?ve?”

His lips part.

Crossing my arms on my chest, I glare at him. “Don’t you think I know what life is really like? I had to watch my twin sister die, Dad. I watched her deteriorate right in front of me. I had to see Mama break down and never fully recover, and then I had to go to a funeral and accept that my own dad wasn’t going to be there when I needed him.”

He tries to answer, but I hold up my hand. “If you fell out of love with Mama, then fine. But somewhere along the way you fell out of love with your surviving daughter, and I won’t ever understand that no matter how you spin it. I’m still alive, Dad.”

His body tenses as his gaze goes to the table. Like Mama, he can’t look at me. I realize in that moment that Kaiden is the only one who’s looked at me since leaving Bakersfield. Really looked at me. He doesn’t see Logan, Mama, or my past. He sees me in all my flawed frailty.

“Does Kaiden know?”

It’s a loaded question. Obviously Kaiden knows Lo died. I’m pretty sure there isn’t anyone who was at the Cantina that night that doesn’t. There’s always more to a story though, and I wonder how much Kaiden’s invested.

“No,” Dad says quietly, “he doesn’t.”