Page 31 of Dominate
Instantly, I place a reassuring hand on Sloan’s back and whisper in her ear, “Don’t fucking answer that.”
“It’s all right,” she soothes, looking over at me with wide, haunted eyes before turning back to my dad. “My husband was a very busy man. My family helped when they could, but it was mostly just me taking care of Sophia. As hard as it was, I think we’re even closer now as a result.”
Dad has a proud sort of smile spread across his face that has my hands clenching into fists. “That’s a wonderful silver lining then. Vilma was always such a strong advocate of our family being close. She used to say that if we didn’t know the size of all our children’s feet, we weren’t paying enough attention to one another.”
“She did?” Booker asks, his voice high and curious like he’s latching onto this memory of Mum and keeping it all for himself.
I’m actually gutted by his reaction. I can tell him so many more memories about Mum if he really needs them. Real, tangible memories that are hidden deep within me. I just never realised he wanted them so much.
Dad nods his confirmation. “I saw a quote once that an individual doesn’t get cancer, a family does. And I completely agree. It’s best when family rallies around each other to overcome an obstacle like that. And even though our Vilma didn’t live through her fight, she would be so happy we’re all here together like this, celebrating her life on a holiday.”
Vi smiles a wobbly, relieved smile and tears begin slipping from her eyes. Suddenly, Dad reaches over and pulls her into a side hug. I notice the twins also seem touched by our father’s words. I feel as though I’ve entered some sort of dinner theatre that everyone forgot to tell me about.
Is our father forgetting the piles and piles of awful moments that happened leading up to her death? Has he blocked those out? Am I truly the only one who remembers the way he picked fights with our mother time and time again? About how he made her cry, then left the room in a huff? I still remember the time he left her on the floor in the shower because she said something he didn’t like. He broke our mother’s heart over and over. And now everyone is hanging on his every word? What the actual fuck?
Dad settles Vi back in her chair, then stands up. He makes his way down the table, directly toward Sloan. My brothers swerve their eyes to me, then to Vi, wondering what the hell is going on. I wish I fucking knew.
Without a word, he moves past me and reaches out for Sloan’s hand. She takes it as he pulls her up out of the chair and…
…hugs her.
He presses her head to his shoulder and hugs her like a father would embrace his daughter.
What the ever-loving fuck is going on?
I hear him whisper into Sloan’s ear, “If there is anything you ever need, we are here for you.”
Sloan’s trembling in his arms, obviously overwhelmed with emotions. It only aggravates me further, especially when I look around the table and see everyone’s reaction. They are staring up at him like he is God and they are prepared to follow him blindly. Never mind that he flooded the earth or sent plagues to entire nations. Never mind that he made his son die on a cross. Right now, he’s having a revelation and we should all bask in the glory that is his name.
He pulls away and holds Sloan’s face in his hands. “Unfortunately, we are experienced in painful pasts, so we are well equipped to be there for you in any way you need.”
“What the fuck?” I grind out between clenched teeth, unable to contain my silence a second longer.
Dad and Sloan both turn to look down at me. Sloan’s eyes are wide and wary. Dad’s are innocent and confused when he asks, “What did you say, Gareth?”
I narrow my gaze at him with a slow, menacing shake of my head. “If you’re a bloody expert on painful pasts, then we’re all fucked.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, his hands releasing Sloan as she sits back down in her chair and removes herself from the line of fire.
I stand up, splaying my hands out on the table so I’m eye level with my father. “If you’re going to treat Sloan during hard times the way you treated Mum—the supposed love of your life—then I think she’s better off on her own.”
Dad’s brows lift in challenge, his warm, loving eyes from earlier replaced with a cold, calculating stare. “I assure you, your mother was the love of my life. There’s no doubt about that.”
I bark out an annoyed laugh and shake my head. “And now we’re all supposed to let you talk about those days like they were completely normal? Let you recite uplifting phrases about cancer and life lessons like you’ve learned so much?”
“Gareth,” Vi states my name in warning, looking at me with pleading eyes. She’s begging me to stop, but I can’t stand this anymore. I cannot.
Dad replies slowly, “I never said I’m an expert, but I think I know a thing or two about enduring hardship.”
“You know sod all about enduring anything. You buried your head in the sand the entire time!” I push back from the table and begin pacing as I take in the faces of my siblings, who all look shocked and afraid. They’re the same faces they had when they were little and Dad yelled at them because he didn’t know what to do with his grief. The same faces I tried to hide from him so he couldn’t hurt them the way he hurt me on a regular basis.
I point an accusing finger at all of them. “You’re all hanging on his every word because you think what we lived through was normal. But that’s only because none of you remember what it was like when Mum was alive. I remember those days all too well, and they were a million fucking times better than the life we had.”
“Gareth,” Booker says softly, shooting me those eyes of his that I can so easily picture on him as a toddler, asking me for a snack, or a toy, or a drink, or a nappy change. “It wasn’t all bad.”
“Do you know who changed your nappies after Mum died, Booker?” I ask, propping my hands on my hips as I await his answer.
He tugs on his earlobe and shakes his head.
