Lying Out Loud(69)

“Dad, I … I need to talk to you about Mom.”

I let it all spill out then. From her short disappearances when I was younger to her complete abandonment now. I told him about staying at Amy’s and how kind the Rushes had been to me. I told him every little detail, even when it hurt like hell to say aloud. By the time I was done, his confident, smiling, all-charm demeanor had fallen away.

His head was in his hands, his shoulders slumped forward. And he looked like a different person. Older. Haggard. Like someone who’d been in prison for years.

“Fuck,” he said. “Goddamn it.”

“Dad?”

“I’m so, so sorry, Sonny.” And I thought he might have been on the verge of tears. “I had no idea. Your mother was always unreliable, but I didn’t think she’d ever …” He took a deep breath and looked up, our eyes meeting. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said.

“Yes, it is. I’m your father. I should’ve been there. Instead of here.” There was a note of anger in his voice now. This gruff tone that I hadn’t expected. It was so startling that I scooted back in my seat a little. “I should’ve stayed in touch with you.”

“You said you tried to write and call.”

“I didn’t try hard enough,” he admitted. “I told myself I’d done everything I could. I’m a good liar that way.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“I figured you’d be fine with your mother. She didn’t want me involved anyway, so … But damn it, if I had known she’d do this, I would’ve … God, I could kill her for leaving you.”

“Maybe don’t say that with so many guards around?” I suggested. “Look, the important part is that you’re here now.”

“Yeah.” He reached across the table and took my hand in his, the anger in his voice fading. “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Literally,” I joked. “Prison and all.” I paused. “Sorry. Was that rude? I’ve been told I have a bad habit of undercutting serious moments with jokes.”

But Dad was smiling. “You get that from me.”

“I do?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “It’s gotten me into trouble a few times. As for being stuck here, though … Well, not for much longer. I should be getting out in a couple of months.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “And … I know you don’t really know me, and I don’t even know where I’ll be living yet, and you’ll be graduating soon, but …” He cleared his throat. “But I hope we can spend more time together then.”

“I’d like that,” I said.

But I wasn’t getting my hopes up just yet. Dad had been out of jail before. The question was, how long would he stay out?

I wasn’t ready to trust him completely, but I was ready to try. To give him a chance and to let him surprise me. Now that he knew the truth about Mom, about everything, we at least had a place to start.

We talked for a while longer about the boring stuff: school, hobbies, et cetera. He asked about Amy, whom he vaguely remembered from my childhood, and he even inquired about my romantic status.

“I actually just went through a breakup,” I admitted as the familiar ache of missing Ryder throbbed in my chest again.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Boys are the worst and you can’t trust any of them. I should know.”

“Well, not in this case. In this case, I’m the one who shouldn’t have been trusted.”

I was glad that Mr. Rush walked in before my dad could ask any more about that subject. Because — vow of honesty and all — I would have had to tell him the truth.

“Sonny,” Mr. Rush said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “It’s about time to go.”

Dad stood up. “Thank you,” he said to Mr. Rush. “For taking care of my daughter.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Mr. Rush said. “We love Sonny. We’re glad to have her.”

The guard signaled that it was time for us to go. I stood up and hugged Dad over the table. His scent overwhelmed me. The smell of generic soap and … him. I remembered being three or four years old, crying after I’d slammed my finger in the door as he held me to his chest, rocking me, telling me it would be okay.

Fast-forward fourteen years, and I was crying in his arms again.

“I love you, Sonny,” he murmured into my hair.

He let me go slowly, and I wiped my eyes, not sure what had brought on the sudden tears this time. “Bye, Dad.”


He waved as Mr. Rush led me out past the guards. It was hard to walk away from him. But we’d give this whole father-daughter thing a real try. And even if it didn’t work out, as hard as that would be, I knew I wouldn’t be alone this time.

“Thank you,” I said to Mr. Rush once we were in the car.

“Of course,” he said. “I don’t mind driving you to visit your dad.”

I shook my head.

Because that wasn’t what I’d been thanking him for.





Meet me in the art room at lunch.



I frowned down at the message from Amy. It wasn’t like her to text during school hours. Why, that was breaking the rules. Something Amy never did … unless I made her.