Page 117 of Bad at Love
"Lazarus," she says to me, pouring the hot water in the delicate china with so much ease it's like we're not even having this discussion at all. "You wanted the truth and there you have it. It was easier to send you away than deal with you. Of course I missed you. Any mother would. But with the way you were acting, the way you made your father feel, it was for the best that you stay far away from us."
"Then why did he leave in the end," I say quietly. "Why go when I was never even there?"
She shrugs and her expression, for once, is pained. "I honestly don't know Laz. I guess he just didn't love you like a good father should. But you know it was for the best, didn't you? It was the best for the both of us."
I don't know what to believe anymore. This has thrown me for a loop.
I feel like everything I know about myself is being rewritten, all my history, and I don't know what kind of person I'll become once it's all been processed.
I’m broken.
Utterly. Fucking. Broken.
"Hey," Noah says, his voice cautious.
I look up to see him hanging awkwardly by the entrance to the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, his purple backpack slung over his shoulder, hair wet from the shower and now a bright purple to match the bag. It takes me a fewmoments to snap back to this reality, the reason I'm here to begin with.
Right. Noah. Gay pride. Marina.
Marina.
She sure picked the wrong fucking guy to fall in love with.
I clear my throat. "Hey. Ready to go?"
"I just made you tea," my mother protests.
"I lost my appetite," I tell her with barely a glance in her direction and I stride past Noah, heading for the door.
Once outside I have this urge to run. Just start running and don't stop until I'm on the ground, panting, wheezing, completely spent.
But I don't. Noah holds me back.
"What did I just interrupt?" he asks, trailing after me as we head to the car. "Or do I want to know?"
"You don't want to know," I tell him. And now, more than ever, I'm acutely sorry for Noah. Not only does he have to have Daryl as a father, he has to have my mother as his stepmother. If she's like that with me, her own flesh and blood, I can't imagine what it feels like to not be related.
“Are we going to your girlfriend’s first? I need to get ready,” he says.
“Yeah.” My voice sounds distant, even in my own head.
“Are you sure you’re okay, dude?” Noah asks. “You’re vampire pale right now.”
I manage to swallow. I need to snap out of it. I’m doing this to support Noah. It’s supposed to be a fun day as well as an important one. It means something to him.
But I’m not sure this is something I can sweep under the rug. The scars are too deep now. It’s a feeling, a sharp pain, that I can’t quite escape.
My father didn’t love me.
My father was afraid of my love.
My love scared him.
My love wasn’t good enough.
I’m not good enough.
I’ll never be good enough for anyone.
