Page 84 of Vince
I’m not prepared for this conversation. But when she reaches out to squeeze my hand, I know I’ll tell her all the same. I just didn’t want to dampen our great day together.
“My dad,” I admit on an exhale.
Fuck, this is gonna be harder than I thought.
As if she can sense there’s a story there, she probes, “What do you mean?”
Where do I even start?
Even though I’ve told this story before, I cringe at the thought of her seeing me differently. I don’t want to be that guy—you know the one who’s gone through shit and you never see as the same once you know his backstory. It’s been so nice not having to unload my baggage on her. Staring out at the trees zooming by, I muster up the courage to find the words needed to explain everything. To explain that it’s all my fault.
Sure, logically, I know it wasn’t. Everyone I know has told me repeatedly. I’ve been through counseling and logically, I accept the truth. But in times like this, when I miss them more than words can explain, the guilt eats at me.
“There was an accident right after graduation,” I start, cold and clinical. I’ve told this story enough to know if I stick to the facts, I can get through it without letting emotions take over.
“Okay…” she draws out as if she’s hesitating for what to say next. God, I don’t want her to see me differently. I love that I’ve been able to be happy and carefree with her. She doesn’t need to walk on eggshells around me due to my past and unexpected emotions.
Clearing my throat, I find the strength to lay out the facts, so there’s no wonder or hesitation from her.
“It was the night of graduation actually. I’d gone to the all-night party our school threw, and they were chaperones. Vanessa had stayed for a while, but she got permission to leave early so she could be home to feed Julia. Since she was breastfeeding, and everyone wanted her to be included as much as she could, no one hesitated with her request. Our parents were signed up the four a.m. to eight a.m. shift as chaperones.”
When Sydney reaches out for my hand to squeeze it, I realize she’s stopped driving, and we’re parked on the entrance to an abandoned driveway. When I meet her eyes, my voice catches, and I’m unable to remain clinical.
Fuck. Why is this so hard?
It’s not like I haven’t had years to process this. But grief is a bastard when it comes to creeping in on you. And fuck, I’m fairly certain no amount of time will make telling this story any easier.
“It’s okay, Vince. If you’re not ready to tell me, you don’t have to.” The fact she knows me well enough to offer me an out makes my broken heart stretch tighter. Knowing she’s here for me brings about the sense of peace I need to get through this. Forcing myself to continue, I pull in a deep breath and begin.
I’d rather she know the whole story and not draw her own conclusions.
“They wouldn’t have even volunteered if I hadn’t been there. They were supposed to do the earlier shift, but since they watched Julia until Van came home, they volunteered for the later shift. They just wanted us to experience everything… ya know. They were the best parents I could ever ask for.”
“I’m sure they were. You and Vanessa are two of the most amazing people I know,” Sydney whispers as I squeeze her hand harder.
I will get through this. But damn, it’s hard to look at her face full of empathy. She hasn’t heard the worst of it, but I’m sure she can tell what’s coming.
Just stick to the facts. You can get through this, I remind myself before pulling in another fortifying breath and force myself to say the words.
“Our class had chosen to do our Grad Night at a ski lodge. It was the start of summer, so the snow was gone. But we rented out the hotel for the night. We weren’t allowed to go into any rooms, but we had access to a huge ballroom, basketball courts, a swimming pool, and a few game rooms. Our graduating class raised money and even rented charter buses so we could ride to the resort in style.”
“That sounds like a lot more fun than my school,” Sydney adds, and I ease up on the tension in my hand. No need for her to lose the feeling in her fingers. Instead, I take both her hands in mine as she sits crisscross in the driver’s seat, facing me.
“It was one of the last great memories I had of just being anormalkid.”
“Oh, Vince,” she sighs breathless as unshed tears fill her eyes but remain tucked behind her dark lashes.
Exhaling hard, I steady my thoughts and my breathing to continue.
“I didn’t find out until I got home to Vanessa. Thank God, I’d been with her when we heard the news. I would’ve hated myself forever if she’d gone through it alone.”
I hear Sydney take in a deep breath, but I can’t look at her to see what I’m sure is agony on her face. Instead, I retell the story as if it were yesterday.
“Apparently, on their way to chaperone, my parents were run off the road by a drunk driver in a hit and run. Their car was stuck in a ravine for hours, but from what I’m told, there’s no way they didn’t die instantly from the force of the impact.”
Sydney gasps quietly but remains silent.
“I got home, and Vanessa was playing in the yard with Jules on a blanket. It was a beautiful June morning. We hung out, and I filled her in on what she’d missed. We laughed about our friends and the typical drama of high school. But every ounce of playfulness stopped the instant the patrol car entered our driveway.
