Page 67 of Hard Count
“Is it mean if it’s the truth? I found his letters, Mom.” I snatch one of them off the floor. “Dear Drew. I have a feeling you aren’t getting my letters. I’ve sent several with no reply but I made you a pinky promise and I intend to keep it. I wish you were here. I sure do miss my little girl.”
A sharp pain slices through my heart as I think back to one of the last memories I had with my dad right before their divorce was finalized and we were moving out. I didn’t want to live with my mom in a crummy apartment. I wanted to stay with him in this house.
“What if we write letters?”
“Like pen pals?” I asked. He nodded.
“You promise?”
He didn’t hesitate to make that pinky promise. He was giving me something to look forward to. It was a way for us to stay connected and she took that away from me. She stole something from me that I'll never be able to get back. I swallow down a sob. I won't let her know how hurt I am by her actions. Not that she would care anyway.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Dad wrote me letters. Hundreds of them and you kept them from me. I knew you were selfish but to hide this from me for all these years is low even for you. Why would you do that? He didn’t want you and you made me believe he didn’t want me either.”
“He didn’t,” she screams. “He gave you up too. He didn’t pick us. He picked football. He always did.”
“You’re lying.”
She laughs. “You’ve only been there a few months and he’s already turned you against me. I knew this would happen. This is exactly why I didn’t give you the letters. Anyone can write poetic things. He’s manipulating you. I wasn’t going to let him.”
“Stop. Just stop,” I cry. “You’re the one who’s manipulating me. You have been for years. I haven’t turned against you. You’ve put me against you. You’ve put me against him. I’m stuck in the middle of all of this. It isn’t fair. I don’t deserve any of this.”
“I’m sure that’s how you see it but that’s not what happened.”
“Your lies won't work on me anymore. That’s exactly what happened.”
She sighs. “There was no middle to be in when he decided he didn’t want to be involved. It’s all in the divorce papers.”
“What are you talking about, Mom?”
I leave the mess in my room and run downstairs to my dad’s office. He has to have a copy of the papers filed away somewhere in here. I open up the filing cabinet and start flipping through and scanning the folders. Nothing.Damnit. I go to the next drawer.
“He wanted to keep the house and I got to keep you,” she says with slight irritation.
“Is that not what you wanted?” I stare at my phone waiting for her response.
“Nothing about my life is how I wanted it to be. Do you think I wanted my marriage to fall apart?”
“What about me? Did you want me?” I hate that I want her to say yes. I want her to say that she would have given up everything if it meant she got to keep me. I want her to say she loves me and she’s grateful she has me as her daughter but the words never come.
A man yells for her in the background startling me and bringing me back to reality. There's always going to be a man pulling her away from me. “Look, I need to go. I’m sorry. I should have thrown the letters away,” she mutters.
“No, you should have given them to me. They were mine. I should have been reading them and writing my dad back. I should’ve had a relationship with him instead of feeling like I wasn’t enough. You know what? I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long to finally stand up for myself and say I’ve had enough. I’m done.”
“You always were impossible to make happy. Even as a baby you cried all the time. I tried the best I could with you.” She sighs.
“The best you could." I scoff. "I’m surprised you even noticed I was there. You were always busy worrying about yourself. You barely had time for me. You don’t have to concern yourself with me anymore. I won’t be coming back to Florida. I’m staying here.”
“Don’t come crying to me when he pushes you away again.”
“I won’t,” I snap. I don't know what's going to happen with me and my dad now but I won't be going back to my mom. Not after this.
“What do you want me to do with your stuff you have stored at my place?”
My hand clenches around my phone. “I have everything I need here.” I think of Nash and all he provides for me. His love and friendship is more than I could ever want or ask for. It's more than I've ever been given by anyone. “You can donate it or sell it for all I care.”
“If that’s what you want,” she says, with a hint of surprise.
