Page 10 of Love is Angry

“It was a cute nickname. And true! Admit it!”

“I admit it! Tardigrades are known to withstand the harshest conditions, including the Moon’s atmosphere,” I reply. “Guess Mom knew something I didn’t.”

Dad sighs deeply. “You’re strong, Maddie. Stronger than I ever was. You’ll pull through, no matter what life throws at you. Plus, you’re way too smart to let yourself be overwhelmed.”

I could cry. I could. If only he knew the hits I’ve taken since Rhue Echeveria smugly barged into my life. I never asked for any of this. I never sought to be around him. That was his doing. All his. My very soul was broken because of that family of his; yet here I am, still moping about them. About him.

“How are things back in Rochester?” I ask my dad. “How’s the shop?”

My dad’s furniture shop hit it big a few years ago when he changed the entire marketing strategy and focused his efforts online. He has always been old school and a fan of printed advertising, but the times caught up with him in a bad way. It took some convincing, but once he caught the hang of social media, he became an unstoppable beast.

“It’s going well, actually,” Dad says. “I thought with you being gone that I’d take a hit, but I didn’t.”

“You know your way around the social platforms,” I tell him. “You never really needed me to post stuff for you. Besides, most of Rochester already knows how good your woodwork is.”

“True, but I’ve been getting lots of outside orders since we went online, and you were doing a damn good job of managingthat aspect,” he replies. “Thankfully, Noelle has been a more than adequate replacement.”

He needs to cut Noelle some slack and maybe marry her. I wouldn’t mind. She’s ten years older than me and crazy in love with my dad. Despite the age difference, they fit so well together. He’s the Yin to her Yang, in a way. And she sure knows how to whip his ass when he gets out of line.

There’s an ache in my heart whenever I think of them. Every part of me wishes my mom was still alive that it was them I was rooting for instead of dad and someone else. But that’s not the way things are. In the end, all I want for my dad is the best. Noelle seems to be that for him right now.

“Ugh, I miss you both so much right now,” I blurt out, my eyes stinging from rogue tears.

“You’ve only been gone a couple of days, Maddie, c’mon.” It does make him chuckle, though. I suppose he finds my angst rather endearing. If he only knew the truth, he wouldn’t think it’s funny. Not in the least bit funny.

The town is quiet. Almost asleep as I gaze at it from the upper end of Main Street. Most of the windows are dark, some dimly lit, only a few are bright and showcasing movement—people winding down for the rest of the evening, maybe setting dinner and taking their seats around the table.

I can almost hear the cork being unscrewed off a bottle of prosecco. The shredded basil sprinkled atop a plate full of tomato sauce and pasta. I can almost taste the salty parmesan grated over the hot fettucine, the cool, honey-glaze white wine that follows. I’m laughing with them as we talk about our day.

Only, they don’t really exist. My friends. I don’t have any.

They’re just pretty figments of my imagination as I wish to be a different person altogether. Who I was brought me nothing but trouble, yet who I’m trying to be is practically impossiblebecause Rhue insists on making sure I’m an outcast throughout the next four years at Cornell.

“Thanksgiving is just around the corner,” Dad says. “The Echeverias are throwing a charity feast in the city center, and they’ve invited us. Of course, I’ve been commissioned to build them about a dozen new outdoor dinner tables and matching chairs for the event. They’re charging a pretty penny for the tickets, but Noelle, you, and I get to go for free because of services rendered.”

The last two words bring back the earlier episode with Cameron. The memory makes my stomach churn, and the imaginary taste of basil and tomato sauce and Italian cheese becomes bitter and vile and something I’d like to expel from the very depths of my being because of how foul it makes me feel.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say, hearing my tone shaking like a reed in a sudden gust of scorching wind.

I’m about to burn from the inside out at the thought of my family clashing with the Echeverias. Nothing good came out of the first entanglement. Why should it be better the second time around? There’s bad blood there, and Dad… fuck, he doesn’t know. I can’t tell him. I have to figure out a better way to keep him away from Julian and his wretched son.

“Why not come up to Ithaca this year? We can book a table at a local restaurant, and you could bring Noelle, too. There’s a neat little motel not far from campus that has nice and cheap rooms, and you could both spend the night. I’m thinking a post-Thanksgiving breakfast, too?”

Dad isn’t convinced. “Honey, that’s sweet, but I’ve already told Mr. Echeveria we’re going. Well, Noelle and I, at least, are going. I wouldn’t confirm on your behalf, anyway. I thought you got along with his kids. Didn’t you tutor his boy for a while?”

It’s like a sucker punch to the gut. It comes hard and fast and knocks me off my feet. I almost lose my balance but findthe black iron railing at the base of the. From here, I’ve got a clear path all the way down on the other side and up Mitchell Street directly towards campus. I didn’t even realize until now the length of my walk. Sometimes, I’m so lost in thought that I forget to stop and turn back during these outings.

It’s a little tough out here, too, since I don’t know Ithaca that well yet.

But it is definitely a quiet and welcoming place. There’s nothing for me to be afraid of, even at night. It’s more about the length of my walk back.

Checking my watch, I realize I’ve been out longer than I would have liked. I’d planned on having a relatively early night, and I haven’t even had dinner yet. Then again, who the fuck feels like eating when Rhue Echeveria is in town?

“I was just hoping we could spend some family time instead,” I tell Dad, then slowly make my way down the low hill and follow the stony path leading toward the park exit.

A dog barks in the distance, letting me know that I’m not completely alone. I draw a little comfort from that and put one foot in front of the next. Like I said, I’m not exactly afraid, but if I do happen to need someone to point me in the direction of home, at least I know there’s someone out there.

“Let’s just put a pin in Thanksgiving for now and revisit in a week, okay?” Dad replies. It’s his way of saying that he’s going, anyway. He’s taking Noelle with him, too.