Little Do We Know(88)

“No, he didn’t.” I thought back to that day in the living room, when Luke stood in front of the fireplace studying our family portrait. “I think he just wanted to know you. For what it’s worth, I think he still does.”

Dad let his head fall back against the post and closed his eyes, like he was taking it all in. “I owe him an apology. And I owe you one, too.” He opened his eyes and locked them on mine. “I’m so sorry.”

I bit down hard on my lip. “It’s okay.”

Dad didn’t look away. “I know you have more to say to me than that.”

I did. I had a lot more to say. But I wasn’t sure where to start. I could have told him how I’d been more devastated about the college fund than I ever let on. Or I could have told him how he let me down in ways I never thought he could when he betrayed my trust and shared Luke’s video. Or I could have told him how I’d been questioning everything I’d ever believed, and how for the last couple weeks, I’d been meditating a lot but hadn’t prayed once.

I could have started with any of those things. But none of them were more important than the one that kicked everything off. Dad had said that he’d made a bunch of mistakes, starting with my college fund, but that wasn’t where it all began. He didn’t even know about the first mistake he’d made.

“I need to tell you why Emory and I got in our fight.” I pointed at her house and Dad turned his head. “She’s over there right now, telling her mom.”

“Telling her what?” He was clearly confused. “What does Emory have to do with any of this?”

“Everything,” I said. My heart was racing and my hands felt clammy. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Remember that day I told you she was in my room and needed to talk to you? But when we got there, she was gone.”

“I remember.”

“Well, she wasn’t gone. She was hiding in my closet. She heard everything we said.”

He looked even more confused. “That was months ago. I don’t think you ever told me what she wanted to talk to me about. What did we say?”

I wrung my hands and stared out at the garden. “I started to tell you that she was upset about a guy. But you cut me off. You started talking about how Emory had changed over the years. That our friendship might not be in my best interest anymore.”

“And she heard me?” He cringed, like he remembered saying the words, but they sounded even worse when he heard them coming back at him. “You know I didn’t mean that.”

I nodded. I knew. But it didn’t matter. Whether he meant it or not, that wasn’t really the point. “That wasn’t what upset her.” I felt sick as I remembered the two of us sitting on the edge of my bed in my room, talking about Emory like she wasn’t there when she was behind a thin closet door the entire time. “I agreed with you. I didn’t defend her. And then after you left and she opened the closet door, I made it even worse. I told her maybe you were right—that maybe we shouldn’t be friends anymore.”

Dad nodded slowly, like he could see the puzzle pieces of our fight fitting together, clicking into place, creating a picture of the last few months that explained everything.

But he still didn’t know the worst part.

And the worst part was so much worse.

I sat up straighter, steeling myself for what I had to say next. “Dad,” I said. But that was as far as I got. My heart was pounding and my legs were trembling and my chin was quivering and I hadn’t even said anything yet.

“What?”

Spit it out, I told myself.

“She didn’t come to our house that day because she was upset about a guy. I mean…she did…but it was…” I stammered, trying so hard to get his name to come out of my mouth, but I couldn’t do it. “It wasn’t just any guy.”

Dad looked at me sideways. He hadn’t looked especially concerned about what I was trying to tell him, but he did now. “It was David.” I threw his name into the air like it was toxic. And then I squeezed my eyes closed, as if that would help block out the vision of what he had done to Emory that day. “He…He trapped her. He wouldn’t let her go.” Tears were streaming down my cheeks and I had to fight to get a breath. “And when she got away she ran away from him. And she ran…here.” My voice broke on the last word, but I felt an overwhelming sense of relief to have it all out.

I cried harder. I expected to feel a supportive hand on my back, but when I looked up, Dad was just staring at me, eyes wide, mouth open, fingertips pressed into his temples. And then he stood and walked down the steps, out to the lawn, like he needed to get far away from me and what I’d just said. He stopped when he reached the back fence, and then he stood there under the tree, staring down into the dirt.

I followed him. “She came to me for help,” I said between sobs. “And I didn’t help her.” I hated admitting it out loud. It sounded worse than it felt. I sat there for what felt like a full minute, drawing air deep into my lungs and trying to pull myself together. “You just said that when it comes to me, you don’t always see the big picture. Well, I tend to do the same with you. I follow your lead instinctively. I don’t even realize I’m doing it. When you have an opinion about something, I let myself lose sight of what I think, what I know is best. I take your opinions on as if they’re my own. What happened to Emory that day was the most important thing, and instead, I got all wrapped up in your opinion of her. And that’s not your fault, it’s mine.”