Page 29 of I Love to Hate You
My father sets the remote down on the coffee table and looks at me over his shoulder, his face as blank as a new sheet of paper.
“How can I be, Maya?” he snips. “The person we both want to celebrate with isn’t here anymore … because of you. I don't have any emotions left to feel. Congratulations on doing that, but you stole my happiness a long time ago, so I don't have anything left to give you. Now, if you don't mind, I’m going to go back to watching TV.”
I stare at him without blinking until my eyes burn. After all this time, I thought today would be the day he finally got over what happened to my mom. At a minimum, I thought he’d be proud of me. I thought he’d say it. I thought he’d tell me I did a good job and that he was proud I stuck it out. I thought he’d care, but he’s still too mad at me to love me. It’s just another gut punch from him that I have to grit my teeth and bare. I’ve been doing it for almost a decade now, so I should be used to it, but this was supposed to bemyday. My sadness and irritation combine to form an emotion that can’t be contained, and the next thing I know, I’m hurling my degree at the TV. It smacks the screen and lands on the floor in front of my father, who jolts around to glare at me.
“What the hell is your problem?” he barks.
“When are you gonna stop blaming me?” I yell, stomping toward him with eyes full of tears I can no longer hold back. They fall, and once they start falling, they don't stop. “Mom died nine years ago. I have been trying to move on but you won’t let me. You won't letus, and we’re both stuck reliving the same trauma over and over again every single time we speak to one another. I hate it, because I love you. I want you to love me, too, but you just keep blaming me. I’ve graduated college and you're still mad. What do I have to do for you to be proud of me?”
“There is nothing you can do!” Dad screams as he stands up to step within an inch of me. He reeks of alcohol and melancholy, but his figure still scares me and I shrink away.
“She was on her way to pick you up from school,” he goes on, his own eyes tearing up. “She didn't have to be on the road that day. She wasn't supposed to be, but you just couldn't help yourself. You let some little asshole bait you into a fight and got yourself suspended. I couldn't get away from work, so your mother hopped in her car to go pick your arrogant ass up onceagain. If it wasn't for you, she never would've gotten in her car. She never would've been at that intersection, and she never would've been hit by that prick who ran that red light, killing both himself and my wife in the process. She’s dead because she had to go get you. She’s not hereright nowbecause she had to go get you, Maya. It’s your fault! You want me to just get over it and forgive you after we told you time and time again to not let kids make you lose focus. Your mother constantly harped on thinking straight and ignoring people’s shit, but you didn't listen and let your temper flare up.
“Ido notforgive you and I’mnotproud of you, because every time I see your face, I remember that it was your actions that took my wife away from me. So fuck your degree. Pick it up and use it to get a job that will pay you enough to get out of my house, so I’ll never have to see you again. That way, I don't have to constantly be reminded of the pain you’ve caused me. I can’t get over it while you're still here. I can’t move on with you around, so I drink every day. You're killing me the same way you killed her. So fuck you, Maya. The day that I’m proud will be the day you walk out of my house for good.”
If I added up every tear I’ve cried in my life, the sum of them still wouldn't equal the amount of tears that pour from my eyes now. I cry so hard that I can’t stand up straight as my body is wrecked with heavy sobs that make me double over. My father stands over me, watching without an ounce of pity in his body, before turning on his heel and stomping down the hall to his room, where he slams the door so hard it rattles the entire house.
Like a toddler, I lie on the floor and cry my eyes out, but unlike a toddler, my mother isn’t here to comfort me. There are no arms swooping in to pick me up off the floor, and no soft voice to tell me that it’s okay. People have the nerve to say that the ones we love are always with us, but in this moment, all I feel is loneliness. I am completely alone, and I stay that way until I finally find the strength to lift myself up off the floor and drag myself down the stairs to my room. I flop down on the bed and clutch my degree like a teddy bear while the tears continue to fall.
Today was supposed to be a great day—the culmination of all my hard work paying off. When I woke up this morning, I thought I’d only feel joy. I wasn’t even mad that my father hadn't left his room on the day he knew I would graduate college. I thought he’d be proud once I got back and told him I’d done it. I guess things don’t always turn out the way you think they will, but the last thing I want is to stay tucked away in the basement of my mother’s house feeling miserable after succeeding.
I deserve the happiness I felt earlier today, and I don't want to let my father ruin it for me. So I choose to give myself an hour to be sad. For sixty minutes, I will allow myself to grieve for my mother once again, and feel the pain my father has injected me with … once again. I’ll give an hour to the suffering, then I’ll push it all back beneath the surface and get myself out of this bed so I can get ready to celebrate my accomplishment.
Amber Perkins is throwing a party tonight, and I refuse to miss it. I’ve earned the right to cheer and have a few drinks. I worked too hard to let it end this way. So I’m going to get up and go. I’m going to have fun. I’m going to let loose. I’m going to talk to a boy. I’m going to do everything my mother would've wanted me to, and I’m going to smile.
“I wish you were here, Mom,” I whisper to myself, still crying. “I know it probably looked like I wasn’t going to do it, but I made it. Even ifhe’snot capable of it, I hope I’m makingyouproud.”
Twenty-One
~ Maya~
The party at Amber’s house is jumping when I pull up. Cars are lined up on both sides of the street, going on forever and forcing me to have to walk what feels like a mile before I get to the lavish house. Amber is one of those girls whose entire family already attended college, so her graduation is just another branch on an massive tree of wealth that continues to grow and spread to each generation of Perkins. The money flowing through her family paid for both her education and the house she’s staying in just a few blocks from the Temple U campus. So I’m not surprised when I make my way up the street to find a gorgeous place fit for someone who’s well-established as opposed to a student who’s struggling to make ends meet.
Approaching the house, each of my steps begins to feel more and more timid the closer I get. With all the drama taking place with my father earlier today, I didn’t pause to think about the fact that I don’t really know many people, especially since Eddie and I broke up. The people I’ve been hanging out with over the past three months have all been Eddie’s friends, because I somehow managed to alienate myself from virtually the entire school over the course of my attendance at Temple. In four years, I had a handful of boyfriends and friends of theirs that I would hang out with, but there were very few friendships that I started on my own, and even fewer that lasted. The longest one was with Amy, and now she’s my worst enemy who I’d gladly watch be hit and dragged by a bus. With all of that in mind, I’m hounded by an age-old question that so many young people have asked themselves while traveling to a party without a friend group. Who the hell am I going to hang out with?
I probably wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for a couple of out-of-the-ordinary circumstances taking place the last two days. The most recent thing was obviously the tragedy with my dad. If I had any doubts about coming out tonight, his anger toward me was the final push I needed. We clearly require space from one another, and I’d rather sleep in a sewer than be under the same roof as him right now. While he’s still the only person I love enough to care about his opinion of me, that doesn’t give him a pass to go out of his way to hurl bombs at me. His words are torturous, and it’s becoming harder and harder to be around someone who deliberately injures me.
More important than my shit with Jack Valentina, is the fact that there was something brewing between Kendrick and I on the final day of classes. Try as I might, I can’t get the scene in front of the bathrooms out of my head. Like my father, his words affected me, but in a completely different way. His words were the opposite—instead of hurting me, they made me feel healed. I felt wrapped in warm blankets that day, with my stomach full of butterflies and my heart on ice skates doing flips and spins the closer he got to me. The entire interaction made me feel wanted in a way that was brand new, and Kendrick led me to believe that he’d be here tonight and that I should, too. As much as I’d like to act as though it’s not some boy making me feel giddy about a night out, the truth is that it is. My curiosity about Kendrick led the charge for me to show up, so as the entrance to the party comes into view, he’s the question to who I’ll hang out with. Maybe tonight will be exactly the change I need. Maybe that change is Kendrick.
Outside of Amber’s house is a small group of people with red cups in their hands and smiles on their faces. I don’t recognize any of them, but when one of them looks over and sees me coming, their smiles are wiped clean as they all face me. I suddenly get the feeling that I’m a bear walking up on a group of people who just realized they forgot their bear mace, and now they don’t know whether to run or play dead. They apparently choose the latter, because neither of them says a word or moves a muscle when I finally reach them.
“Hey,” I say, doing my best to be civil and in a good mood for the accomplishment we’re all here to celebrate, but when no one answers, my cup of annoyance fills quickly. “What? No one's gonna say anything?”
A boy with buzzed black hair clears his throat and nods. “Hey. Umm, you're Maya, right?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Thought so. I’ve seen you around campus a time or two. Surprised to see you here.”
“Why is that, Boy Who Knows My Name Who I’ve Never Met Before?” I ask as playfully as my current attitude will allow.
“Oh, sorry. My name’s Terry,” he says, before gesturing toward the other two guys. “This is Glen and Rob. I’ve heard your name a few times, and from what I’ve heard, I just didn't think you’d be the type to pull up to parties. Turning over a new leaf now that you’ve got your degree?”
“I don’t know,” I reply with a lighthearted shrug and smirk. “Maybe I am. All I know is that I’m here and ready to celebrate. So point me in the direction of the nearest drink.”
The boys all look at each other, wondering if the bear is actually going to walk away instead of mauling them all, before Terry says, “Yeah, sure. Head on in. Amber is inside, and … I’m sure she’s gonna be excited to seeyou.”
Understanding his tone, I press my lips together. “I bet she will be. See you guys later.”
