I'd Give Anything(72)

Her father leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table, and pressed his palms to his forehead.

“And Dad?”

“What?”

“You need to know that whatever you tell me I will believe. When Cressida told me her story, it sounded true, most of it anyway. I’m sorry to say that but it did. But if you tell me it didn’t happen how she said it did, I will believe you because you’re my dad. And I need to have faith in my dad. So please, please, whatever you do, don’t lie to me.”

“Oh, baby,” said Avery’s mother, her eyes filling with tears.

“Yes,” he said. “That story is accurate. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I hadn’t been feeling like myself for a long time, and even though what I did was very, very wrong, I didn’t quite understand that at the time. But that lunch, what I said to her, it was me hitting rock bottom. As soon as I saw Dale Pinckney watching us across that restaurant, it was as if I were seeing myself through his eyes. It hit me like a ton of bricks that what I was doing was terribly wrong. I felt so sick and sorry about how low I’d sunk and how close I’d come to doing something even worse.”

Then, he added, “I didn’t, though. I didn’t get involved with her. I stopped in time.”

“Dad,” said Avery. “She wouldn’t have anyway.”

For a moment, her father didn’t respond. Then, he said, “I’m sure you’re right.”

“And after that, you changed,” said Avery. “Right? That moment in the restaurant. You said it was rock bottom. So after that you changed.”

It came out sounding more plaintive, more pleading than Avery had wanted it to. She saw her mother notice and saw her shift—instantly—into high alert.

“Yes,” said her father, lifting his head. “Yes. I’ve been working with a therapist for months now, and it’s helped me beyond what I could have imagined. What happened in that restaurant and the stupid move to try to get Dale not to tell anyone, and then getting fired, letting you and your mother down the way I did—”

“And hurting Cressida,” said Avery’s mother, interrupting. “Don’t forget that.”

“Yes, that, too. All of it, as reprehensible as it was, was good for me, in the end. It was a wakeup call that came just in time.”

Avery felt the muscles in her chest relax. Despite her father having just admitted to being creepy, even possibly predatory, Avery was filled with relief.

“I knew it,” said Avery. “I knew that part of her story couldn’t be true.”

“What do you mean, honey?” said her mother. “What part?”

“I knew he wouldn’t do it. Not after you and I knew, Mom. After we were, like, part of it. I knew he wouldn’t do that to us.”

“Do what? What did she say?” said her mother, the pitch of her voice rising just a notch.

“She told me that after everyone found out and Dad got fired and she quit, even after it was all supposed to be over, Dad kept calling her, like, every single day for a week and then one more time after that. She said he left messages saying he loved her and saying he felt like killing himself. She said she had to block his number.”

“Oh my God,” said her mother. “Harris?”

And they both looked at Avery’s dad, whose face had gone from scarlet to ashen.

“Dad?” said Avery, her heartbeat quickening. “She made that up, right?”

“I think she must have—” her father began and stopped. “I don’t know why she—”

“Harris,” said her mother, sharply. “You can’t lie to her. You cannot do that.”

To Avery’s horror, her father’s face crumpled, and his breathing got shallow, and he began to cry.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “God help me, I am so sorry. I was out of my mind over that woman. But I’m different now. It really is over. I look back and it’s like a different person did it, made those calls, all of it.”

“Jesus Christ, Harris,” said her mother.

Avery began to shake, not out of sadness. It was as if all the fury she’d tamped down, the fury of months, had jumped the fire wall and set her ablaze and roared in her ears.

“Woman?” she yelled. “Are you kidding me? She’s not a woman. I saw her! She puts her hair in a messy bun and bites her nails. She’s a girl. Like me, Dad!”

She got up out of her chair.

“You are disgusting, do you know that?” she hissed. “You called her? After Mom and I already knew?”

“I’m sorry,” said her father. “Please, sweetheart.”

“You lied. You sat here and lied to me, and I hate you,” shouted Avery. “I never want to see you again. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” said her father, drearily. “I hear you.”

“Get out!” she yelled. “Please just get out of here! Leave!”

Avery flung out her arm and pointed toward the door, and her father got up from the table, wiped his face with both hands, and left.





Chapter Eighteen





Ginny


The morning after the day Harris admitted to wrongdoing beyond what his daughter, strong as she was, could bear, Avery appeared in my room at a little past seven, her eyes full of exhaustion and wonder, and said, “The birds are singing.”