Page 37 of I Would Stay Forever
I sighed and turned in my seat so I was facing her. She automatically mimicked the position, pulling one leg up in front of her and resting against the car door. She kept telling me how comfortable the car was, which made me think she would be the one more likely to take it off my hands next year once she got her license. Lucky for her that she didn’t have to associate it with that night.
“Personally,” I said, emphasizing the word hard because I didn’t want her to take my word as gospel truth, “I’m kind of hoping we don’t.”
The words sounded ugly as I said them out loud and I felt a twinge of guilt, even though I was just speaking the truth. It seemed so wrong to admit that I never wanted to see my father again—the man who had raised me, who had been to every volleyball game, who had been my biggest supporter through thick and thin. But every time I thought of him, the taste of acid became strong in my mouth. Every memory he was a part of had been tainted. Why would I let him ruin new experiences too?
“You never want to see him again?” Imogen asked in a quiet and shocked tone. She almost sounded scandalized and I knew instantly that I’d said the wrong thing. I still wasn’t sure what the exact right thing to say would have been, whether she wanted me to say I thought Mum and Dad would get back together one day or if she’d just been hoping for a “he won’t stay away forever,” but regardless, I knew I needed to backpedal.
“I guess it depends how he’s in our lives,” I said slowly, feeling out the words carefully. What I’d said before had been the truth. A watered-down version of it, in fact, because the larger truth of the matter was that not only did I never want to see him again, I also wanted to leave behind the town that reminded me of him. I kept thinking of that meeting with Emma the guidance counsellor and the passion with which she’d spoken of the University of B.C. Every time I thought of Dad, the idea of that distance became so much more tempting.
But Imogen was already staring at me with wide eyes and I knew bringing up anything like that, even if I conceded that I wouldn’t mind seeing Dad on holidays or for a week or two of the summer, wouldn’t go over well. She would only be even more horrified and worse, she may try to convince me to stay. Somehow, I had to meet her in the middle.
“I don’t want him to try to force his way back into our family again,” I said, because that was one piece of the truth—the one I thought Imogen might be okay with. “I think if he shows up again too soon, he’ll still want to be our dad, and knowing everything I do now, I’m not sure I can respect him in that way anymore. Some things just can’t be taken back.”
Imogen chewed on her lip and looked away from me, focusing on something outside the rearview mirror instead. I was pretty sure she didn’t actually see anything and just wanted to avoid eye contact, which I was more than happy with because, to my horror, my eyes were starting to burn with unshed tears.I hated that even six weeks later, just the topic of Dad had the power to make me cry.
“But that doesn’t mean you have to feel the same way,” I added, almost tripping over the words. Imogen’s face was all twisted and I got the sense that something I’d said bothered her, which was the last thing I’d wanted to do. “It’s up to you how you feel about him. Don’t tell yourself you can’t want to see him just because I don’t want to.”
“What if I do?” she asked softly. “Want to see him again, I mean.”
I shrugged. “Then you do.”
Given the way she’d asked the question and her reaction to my first response, I’d gotten the sense that she did. I just wasn’t sure what that looked like for her. There was a variety of options from “talking on the phone on birthdays and major holidays” to “living with him on weekends.” I wondered if she even knew what she wanted.
Her gaze moved from the rearview window to the front door. She was biting her lip so hard I was surprised it hadn’t started bleeding.
“You, Ainsley, and Sebastian all don’t want to,” she said. “Does that mean there’s something wrong with me for wanting to hear him out?”
My heart broke a little at that moment. I felt like I was mourning my little sister even as she sat right in front of me. Crying for the piece of her that, like me, had died that night when she found out her dad wasn’t who she thought he was. She was in her junior year—she should have been worrying about a date to the homecoming dance and debating what she wanted to major in university, not worrying about if she was wrong for wanting to ever see her father again. I silently cursed him for doing this to her, but tried not to let it show on my face. If shesaw my hatred of him shine through, then she would only retreat further in on herself, even more convinced she was in the wrong.
“We’re all dealing with this as best we can,” I said slowly. Once again, I felt like I was navigating uncharted territory and I was terrified of making a misstep and pushing her away. “I’m not sure that there’s a right way and a wrong way entirely. Just whatever is best for you.”
Imogen looked like she was blocking back tears. “Lavender, I?—”
A knock on my window cut her off and we both jumped in surprise. I looked over my shoulder, putting a hand to my now-thudding heart, and saw Sebastian standing right outside my car door.
“What are you doing?” he called through the glass. His hair was wet from his post-practice shower, and he was dressed in only a Parkhurst jumper with his soccer bag slung over his shoulder. Imogen and I had stopped for food after school and had been sitting here for a few minutes, so I was surprised we’d taken so long that Sebastian was already home.
I looked at her again, ready to ask with my eyes if she wanted me to give him some excuse so we could keep talking, but she was already climbing out of the car. I guess our conversation was over—whether she felt any better was another question.
I climbed out as well, laughing as Sebastian slung an arm around each of our shoulders and practically pulled us into the house. I wasn’t sure how Imogen, or the rest of my family for that matter, felt about Dad’s absence, but personally, I barely even noticed it anymore. Mum, Sebastian, Ainsley, and Imogen were all the family I would ever need.
nineteen
The house was too quiet.
It wasn’t the peaceful silence that happened when I woke up too early—even then, I could usually hear Mum’s white noise machine through the bedroom wall or Ainsley kicking the wall in her sleep because she moved around so much. Instead, there was nothing.
And that kind of silence in the Novak house was suspicious.
I rolled over and blinked my eyes open. The sunlight was bright—too bright for early morning—and splashing across the carpet in a way it usually didn’t until much later. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, knocking over a water glass in my rush. The phone screen stayed black when I tapped it. I held down the power button, my stomach already curling inward.
It vibrated once. Then flashed a low battery symbol. Red. Empty.
And off again.
I stared at it. “No. No. No, no?—”
I sat up fast and the blood rushed from my head, sending the room tilting for a second. It couldn’t be that late, right? I woke up early every morning, even on the weekends because my body refused to sleep in. Even without an alarm, I should have wokenup at my usual time. I rubbed my eyes and pulled my curtain back to look outside, expecting to see people wandering in the direction of the bus stop. There were a couple people walking, but nobody that looked my age.Crap.
