A Midsummer's Nightmare(48)

I thought of Bailey, of how I hadn’t protected her. I thought of Nathan’s hand reaching across the linoleum table at the diner, his fingers covering mine. I cared about Bailey and Nathan cared about me. This wouldn’t make things with Dad any better. This wouldn’t make me forget. It would just hurt them. And I didn’t want to hurt them. Not more than I already had.

I carried the bottle into the bathroom, checking to make sure the hallway was clear first. I poured out the last few drops of tequila, watching as the only thing that had made me happy over the past few years trickled down the drain. Going, going… gone.





21


I didn’t leave the house at all over the next week. I spent most of my time locked in the guest room or watching Bailey practice her cheers. Occasionally, Harrison would come over and hang out, but we never went to the Nest or parties or anything after the Fourth of July.

But that didn’t stop people from posting on the Facebook page.

Nathan usually wouldn’t let me look on his computer, but sometimes I’d sneak into his room when he had run downstairs. He had a bad habit of leaving his computer on, and he was always logged on to Facebook.

Pictures from Harrison’s party; speculations of what I’d do next; insults about my clothes, my hair, the size of my ass. Everything. And Dad was tagged in so much of it. Tagged one day, untagged the next. And still not a word to me. Not that I expected it anymore.

Every time I saw him in the house, every time he asked me to pass the rolls at dinner, every time he called during a break at work to ask Nathan to pick something up at the grocery store and I answered the phone—I wanted to scream every time. To throw things. To ask him why he loved them more than me. But I held it in. I didn’t want to know the answer to that question.

He must have been counting down the days until I left, until it could just be him and his perfect family and he could go back to pretending I didn’t exist.

As angry as I was, part of me didn’t blame him.

I stood in the living room and watched them through the screen door. Sherri was visiting for the afternoon. She and Sylvia sat in lawn chairs, drinking lemonade while Dad and Nathan played one-on-one basketball in the driveway. Bailey was doing back handsprings in the grass, as if she were a cheerleader at a big game.

Sherri and Sylvia clapped and laughed as Nathan threw the ball into the hoop above the garage, sinking it perfectly. Dad’s lips were moving quickly, clearly arguing that, somehow, that shot hadn’t been fair.

I felt like I was watching a home movie. A good one. It was like you could see the joy and the love. They were palpable.

Nathan saw me standing in the doorway. He raised a hand and waved, gesturing for me to join them.

But I shook my head.

I ran upstairs before anyone else could turn around and see me.

Later, after dinner, Nathan followed me into the guest room. “Why didn’t you come outside earlier?”

I sighed and sat down on my bed. “I had a stomachache.”

He frowned at me. “Really, Whit?”

“Whitley,” I corrected automatically.

“I don’t believe you,” he said. “About the stomachache.”

“I just didn’t want to, okay?”

That wasn’t entirely a lie.

The truth was that I hadn’t wanted to ruin it. Dad and the Caulfields were perfect together. They were a family. A beautiful family. More of a family than Mom, Dad, Trace, and I had been, even before the divorce. Nathan and Bailey had both tried to make me feel welcome, but I still didn’t belong. I was the puzzle piece that didn’t fit.

Nathan watched me for a long moment. Then he sat down on the bed next to me, one arm curving around my shoulders. I couldn’t tell if the gesture was meant to be platonic or romantic. I couldn’t tell which I wanted it to be.

“Well, I hate for you to miss out on all the fun,” he said. “So why don’t you join Bailey and me for movies tonight?”

“Nathan…”

“I want you to,” he said firmly. “And so will she.”

I forced a smile. “Okay. But I’m not watching Bring It On again.”

“Damn. I am just so heartbroken by that,” he joked.

I tried to call Trace after Nathan had gone, but I only got his voice mail.

Trace had a family now, too. A gorgeous wife and daughter. A family of his own. One I wasn’t part of.

And no matter whose fault it was, Mom and I hadn’t been a family in a long time.

I didn’t know who I was without the parties or drinking or boys that had been my life for the past four years. I had nothing. No one. I didn’t know where I belonged anymore.


“You have one unheard message…. First unheard message.”

“Whitley, it’s your mom. I haven’t heard from you in a while, and I just wanted to check in. Trace says he’s talked to you a few times, but I haven’t, so… give me a call? I miss you, honey. I hope you’re having fun…. But listen, if anything’s going on with your father, you can let me know and—”

“Message deleted.”


“Physics?”

“No. No science.”

“Politics?”

“No.”

“Psychology?”

“I’m too screwed up to be a psychologist.”