Page 61 of Attractive Forces
If I felt like she cared, I wouldn’t feel so alone.
As she continues to look at me, I realize part of the problem is we’ve never really talked about Dad. We’ve all followed Mum’s lead on pretending he doesn’t exist. But suddenly, I find myself itching to change that.
“Have you ever contacted him?” My voice is low.
Tears suddenly spring into her eyes, turning them bright. “Yeah, I did. Once.”
My heart is in my throat. “What happened?”
She rubs her eyes impatiently before she answers. “I put in a request to have a video call. I thought it would make me feel better, to yell at him about how he’d ruined my life, but…he looked so sad, Jake. You know how Dad used to do that hangdog look when he was pretending to be sad? He was doing it for real.”
Oh god, I wish she hadn’t said that. Now I’m remembering Dad’s hangdog look, along with all the other looks he used to do to make us laugh. The way he looked so proud when I won the science fair at intermediate. The way he used to do these massive tickle wars with Aaron, and he’d end up laughing even more than Aaron.
My chest grows tight. Now I’m severely regretting bringing up this topic. I can’t handle talking about this. I can’t handle having Annaliese add to my catalog of everything I’m missing about Dad.
I back away from her toward the stairs. “I better go do my homework.”
My head’s pounding when I get to my room.
I should be concentrating on my homework because I have three major quizzes to study for this week, and with all the time I’ve been spending with Logan, I’m seriously behind.
But my conversation with Annaliese is buzzing around in my mind, refusing to let me focus on anything.
I grab my phone and go to the photos I’ve got stashed away.
They’re from two years ago when Aaron and I went on a boy’s camping weekend with Dad. There’s this one shot when we were trying to get a good selfie, but the smoke from the campfire kept blowing in our faces at the wrong time, and in the end, we were all falling about laughing.
I stare at the laugh lines around Dad’s face.
I know from the trial that he was already stealing money then, betraying everyone who trusted him.
How could he be so happy when he must have known it was all going to end badly?
18
Logan
Sunday evening finds me where I’ve spent so many Sundays of my life—in a pew listening to my father’s sermon.
Church is a great time for people-watching, so I’m only half listening to Dad as I watch seven-year-old Jimmy Kleaton slowly but surely sneak morsels of a cookie from his pocket into his mouth.
“We are living in a time where grave dangers face God-fearing people. When it feels like the fabric of our very society is tearing itself apart. Why do we need to live good and virtuous lives?” Dad’s voice thunders.
“It’s clearly spelled out at multiple points in the Bible that those who lead righteous lives will receive their reward and go to heaven.
“Let’s not forget the words of Corinthians 6:9: Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived; neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor homosexuals, nor thieves, nor the covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers, will inherit the kingdom of God.”
Suddenly, I’m not watching Jimmy anymore. Instead, my breath slams out of me like I’ve been tackled.
My brain helpfully replays my father’s words like my skull is an echo chamber that his words can’t escape.Adulterers, effeminate, homosexuals, thieves, covetous, drunkards, revilers.
There I am, in the company of adulterers and revilers, according to my father.
Thanks, Dad.
After the sermon is over, supper is served. I help myself to a ham-and-egg sandwich and try to erase my father’s words from my mind. But I don’t think there’s a cleaning agent in the world powerful enough to scrub them away.
“Great game the other day.” A voice says behind me.
