Page 189 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two
I inhale and latch on to my mother’s voice, and when I open my eyes and look at Tempest, it’s like my mom’s face is there in hers.
“You’d have to ask your mom specifically what she’s sad about, but if I could guess, I would say she’s sad because we had an argument.”
Tempest stands there quietly with a screwed-up face.
“Oh,” she says. I look at her hair, avoiding her gaze when the disappointment in her tone slaps me in the face.
I get a bit closer to centering her part in the momentary silence.
“Dad?” Tempest says again.
“Yeah, Tems?” I say, still staring at the separation.
“Are you sad, too? Because you had an argument with Mommy?”
My heart squeezes.
“You’re very observant, baby girl,” I reply with a hollow chuckle.
She looks down and away, so I place a kiss on her almost-straight part.
“Never change. That’s an excellent thing,” I add, and her reflection beams at me for a second before the smile falls.
“Yes, I’m sad. I miss your mom,” I tell her truthfully, reaching for one of the hair ties to secure her hair temporarily.
Tempest hums.
“Do you love mommy?” she asks, and she presents the question so innocently, so plainly, it makes me want to hold her close, so she never loses that view of the emotion.
“Yes,” I say emphatically. “I love your momverymuch.”
She nods, very serious.
“Did you fight because Mommy says we’re moving back home?” The news hits me in my gut, taking the wind out of my lungs.
“Oh?” I ask, not willing to interrogate my daughter for adult information. “I didn’t know that.”
Tempest rolls her lips inward, her eyes going wide. Tears rush to her lids.
“Oh, Tempest. Don’t cry, baby girl,” I say, hugging her tight and letting myself breathe in her fresh scent.
Moving…moving? God, I?—
“Daddy, I don’t want to go back!” she wails, and I pick her up to carry her across the bathroom to sit on the short bench meant to put on shoes, placed next to their closet.
She cries, and I hold her while she does so. I want to cry along with her, and maybe sheshouldsee me cry—maybe she should see a man show that emotions have no gender—but I keep it all inside.
Primarily because I think if I let a single tear fall, I might completely fall apart. Tempest needs me to be her rock in this moment, and I will.
When her tears slow, she snuggles into my chest, and I count her slow breaths, thinking she’s gone to sleep. I panic for a second, because I know her undone hair will tangle and frizz again if I don’t braid it down.
Shae’s moving with them.
“Daddy?” Tempest whispers.
“Baby girl?”
“D’you think you could say sorry to Mommy and really, really mean it, and she might let us stay here? Like, all together as a family?”
