Chasing Spring(49)

After nearly face planting a few times, she finally made it to her car, never noticing me sitting in my truck in the driveway.

I waited two minutes after her Firebird peeled away before walking into the house. I patted my jeans to make sure my keys were in my front pocket. There was a chance I'd need to bolt, especially if my dad was drunk.

I pulled the frayed screen door open and tapped my knuckles on the wood frame.

“Dad, are you in here?” I called out to the quiet house. The carpet was stained with yellow and brown patches and there was trash covering the coffee table. Pill bottles lay beside cigarette packs and empty coke cans.

I peered into the kitchen just as the toilet flushed in the guest bathroom downstairs. I turned as my father walked out, zipping up his jeans. When he caught sight of me, he paused and narrowed his eyes as if trying to figure out if I was really there.

“When did you get here?” he asked with a gruff voice before stepping past me and taking a seat on the couch. The old springs collapsed under his weight.

“Just now,” I said, pointing toward the door. “I saw your friend leave.” I could have skirted around the subject, but I was tired of skirting around subjects with him.

He grunted and reached down to light a cigarette. I reached forward and grabbed the pack before he could.

“Don't smoke around me,” I said, tossing the pack across the room so that it hit the wall and tumbled to the ground, spilling cigarettes onto the floor.

“What the hell has gotten into you, boy?” he asked, a dark gleam in his eye.

I was one bold move away from pushing him too far, so I backtracked and took a deep breath.

“I wanted to come see how you were doing,” I said, taking a seat in the chair across from him. I couldn't smell the sweat of my uniform over the musk lingering in the room. The place was disgusting.

“I'm fine,” he nodded, reclining back and propping his arms on the back of the couch.

“Have you been down to the shop lately?”

His eyes were pinned on something outside as he answered. “Once or twice last week. Been slow.”

I nodded and dropped my hands between my legs. “How are you paying for things?”

His eyes cut to me. “Y'know, I don't appreciate being lectured by a f*cking eighteen-year-old boy, even if you are my son.”

I laughed under my breath. “You think it’s fun having to lecture my dad?”

He grunted and I knew we were at a standstill, so I decided to drop the subject.

He reached forward and took a sip of cheap beer, no doubt lukewarm by that point.

“I had a baseball game today,” I mentioned, finding middle ground.

“Yeah, how'd that go?” he asked, eyeing my uniform.

“We won. We're headed to the first round of playoffs.”

He nodded in approval. “That’s really somethin’. Maybe I'll try to make it to the next game.”

His promise meant nothing. I reclined back in the chair, feeling the lump of my phone in my back pocket. I would have removed it, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be staying.

“How’s Calloway treating ya?” he asked, taking another sip of beer.

I twisted my hands together. “Fine.”

“Getting close with that daughter of his again?” he asked with a gentle sneer.

“Her name is Lilah,” I said firmly, straightening up in my seat.

My dad grunted again and it took everything inside me not to reach out and smack the beer from his hand. I watched him lean forward, his hazel eyes locking onto mine. His skin was oily and wrinkled. I wondered when he’d last showered.

“I'd be careful with her,” he warned, narrowing his eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

He dragged his tongue along his bottom lip, gathering his thoughts. “She always reminded me a little too much of her mother…”

“Just say what you want to say,” I hissed.

“Her mom was a stupid whore and the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.”

I gripped the edge of my chair.

“You don't know a single thing about her,” I argued.

“I know she's trouble,” he said, reaching for the pack of cigarettes.

“You. Don’t. Know. Her.”

“Do you think the two of you together is a good idea?” He tried to get his lighter to spark, striking it three times before it finally lit. He took a long drag and then met my eye once again. “Our families are so mangled and tangled up, ain't nothin' good can come from it.”

“She’s a good person.”

He shook his head and pointed his finger out at me, flicking ash across the carpet. “Yeah, Elaine seemed like a good person when she was 17 too. Maybe she doesn't have problems now, but she will. You just wait.”

I thought of the version of Lilah that had returned from Austin: the closed-off girl with her black hair and flat smile, the girl who tried her best to hide away from the world. I knew it wouldn’t happen overnight, but I could get the old Lilah back. I could find the lost girl.

“You're just spouting hateful bullshit now,” I said with a steely confidence. “You know how I know you're wrong?”

My dad arched a brow in response.

“Because I'm nothing like you,” I said with a sharp tongue. “Lilah won't turn into her mom because I'm sure as hell not gonna turn into you. Look at yourself.” I sneered. “You're a forty-year-old man drinking yourself into oblivion. You lost your wife, and I lost my mom. You can't just pretend that life doesn't go on.” I shook my head. “Why can't you see that? Why can't you see that you've turned a sad thing into something even worse? I couldn't mourn the death of my mom because I was too busy making sure you didn't choke on your own vomit every night.”