Page 63 of Church Girl
“In my defense, I didn’t include cooking skills on my résumé,” I mutter.
He snorts. “Since you taking care of my daughter includes her not starving, being able to fix a meal was implied. I believe it’s called a lie of omission.”
He doesn’tlookangry. Still, I purse my lips, studying him.
“Am I fired?” I ask.
He huffs out a laugh. “No, Liyah, you’re not fired. Even if I wanted to, Gia would probably leave to go live with you rather than stay with me. But let me know how much you spend on food so I can include that in your check. You shouldn’t be coming out the pocket to feed my daughter.”
I nod even though I don’t mind. Especially since I have to eat, too. But as a student paying for the part of tuition the scholarship doesn’t cover, I’m not turning down extra money. I might have my pride, but I’m no fool.
“Thank you.” I turn around, intending to head back to the living room, grab my stuff and leave. But I only go a couple of steps before I stop and face him again. And I’m speaking before fully acknowledging my intent to do so. “Can I...talk to you? If you’re not too tired.”
He bites into the chicken again, swallowing before replying, “Yeah. Sit while I finish eating.” Dipping his chin toward the breakfast bar and the stools lined up in front of it, he sets his plate on top and retrieves a bottle of water from the refrigerator while I follow his command. Water in hand, he sits across from me and resumes eating. “What’s up?”
Inhaling a breath, I hold it, formulating in my head exactly how to explain this now that I’ve broached the subject. Smoothing a hand over my ponytail, I meet his steady, bright gaze.
“I don’t feel like I’m betraying Gia’s confidence since she promised me she would talk to you tomorrow...”
The fork in Von’s hand pauses halfway to his mouth, and after a second, he slowly lowers it back to his plate. “What do you mean? What about Gia?”
“Tonight, she confided in me.” I relay to him my conversation with his daughter. He sits quietly as I talk, not interrupting me. When I finish, he remains silent, seemingly no longer interested in his dinner as he hasn’t touched it since we sat down. “I encouraged her to talk to you about how she’s feeling, and she agreed to, but I didn’t want you to be blindsided. I also wanted you to be prepared so you wouldn’t inadvertently...well...”
“Hurt her. Reject her,” he finishes, staring down at his plate, hands flattened on either side of it. “The last thing I wanted was for Gia to be traumatized by this. Of course, I knew she would be affected by her parents divorcing, but I tried to minimize the hurt and confusion as much as possible. But they don’t make DIY shows on how to break up a marriage without fucking up your kids.”
“Von,” I whisper. “You’re doing your best.”
“Am I?” He looses a hard chuckle. “When my daughter walks around here scared and worried about how she’s going to make me and her mother feel by being honest with us, I’m not so sure. Her one job is to be a kid. To go to school, clean her room, play with her friends and enjoy herself. Not deal with mine and Sheree’s shit. Definitely not be emotionally responsible for us. Nah, Liyah, even if we are doing our best, it’s not fucking good enough.”
I don’t know what to say to that. There’s nothing I can say that will change his mind or stop him from beating himself up. So I just lean across the breakfast bar and cover one of his hands with mine. After a long moment, he flips his hand over and grasps mine.
“You’re an amazing father,” I say, breaking the long, heavy silence.
I’d hoped my words would comfort him, but instead they seem to have the opposite effect when his grip on me tightens. His big body stiffens, and it’s almost like he’s rejecting my assurance with his mind and body.
“Von, are you o—”
“Did you believe my ex-wife today? What she said about me not being loyal? Or faithful?” he asks, interrupting my inquiry into his well-being.
I blink, straightening and slowly sliding my palm back across the bar top until it rests in my lap. “I didn’t think about it one way or the other. I just took it as her being petty and trying to throw shade.”
He gives another of those sharp chuckles and scrubs a hand down his face, his tell that he’s in his emotions.
“Is it—” I pause, my pulse echoing in my head “—true?”
Why does the thought of him being a cheat cause my stomach to churn?
He stares at me, his gaze unwavering. “Would it matter if it was?”
I want to say no, that it wouldn’t matter, that their marriage and divorce was their business, just as I’d said in the tattoo shop earlier. But I can’t lie. How I was raised and my own standard of right and wrong won’t allow me to lie. Fidelity, faithfulness, they are character traits, and if he could lie and betray his wife—the woman he’d promised his heart, loyalty and future to—what else would he lie about, who else would he be disloyal to?
“Yes,” I admit. “It would.”
“Good.” The fierceness in his voice and the hardening of his eyes take me aback. “It should change how you see me. People get it fucked-up. When you cheat, it isn’t just betraying your partner. It’s saying fuck you to your relationship, your family. It’s stealing time from not just the person you married but from your kids, your extended relatives. It’s jeopardizing your world, not just your marriage. It’s saying getting a nut is more important than other people’s hearts, other people’s emotional pain, their security. It’s selfish, and I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it.” He pauses. “But Sheree did.”
I rock back on the stool. Shock slaps through me in ice-cold waves. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’tthat. From the animosity and...bitterness that seeped from his ex, I wouldn’t have guessed she was the one who’d violated their vows. If I’m honest, she seemed more like a woman scorned than an ex-wife with no emotional ties to her ex-husband.
“Yeah.” He nods. “I was faithful. And shit, keeping it a buck, I had plenty of opportunities to cheat. Do you know how much pussy is thrown at me in my shop alone? I’m not gon’ lie and say I’ve never been tempted. But crossing that line? Hell no. Not even when the communication between me and Sheree dissolved to arguments and silences. Apparently, her definition of faithfulness was a little looser than mine. By the time I found out, the affair had been going on for years. Four to be exact, off and on. Whenever she got pissed with me, she’d run back to him.”
