Page 68 of The Rebel of Raleigh High
26
SILVER
He didn’tmention anything about the email in his texts. Not one word. I don’t blame him, either. If I were him, I’d probably want to pretend like I hadn’t read such a crappy, terrible story, too. He probably doesn’t even know what he’s going to say to me.
I make my way downstairs, feeling sick to my soul. I have plenty of regrets, but I regret sending that email more than anything else I’ve ever done. I have no idea what tonight’s going to be like with him. I’m hoping it won’t be an awkward disaster, but—
I run into Dad the second I hit the bottom step. “Holy hell!” He clutches a hand to his chest dramatically, staggering back until he hits the wall. “I thought you’d moved out. There were rumors some sort of nocturnal creature had taken up residence in your room. I was gonna start charging it rent.”
“One day, Dad. I’ve been up early every other day for the past year. Feel free to cut me some slack.”
“I know, I know,” he says, throwing an arm around me, guiding me into the kitchen. “I’m just messing with you. Figured you could take it, but I can see you’re feeling a little sensitive. I was surprised you came back yesterday. I thought you’d be making the most of every last second at the cabin. Mom said you weren’t feeling good. Everything all right?”
Wow. Guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that Mom’s been lying again. I told her to do it, after all. I’m kind of glad she came up with this excuse, though. Would have been hard to explain my early return otherwise. “Yeah, yeah. I’m just feeling a little under the weather’s all. Decided it’d be smarter to head home before I came down with a full-blown head cold.”
Dad releases me, making a cross with his index fingers, like he's warning off a demon. “If ye be infected, keep thy germs to thyself, lest the whole household succumbs to thy plague,” he says, feigning horror all over again. He is such a damn dork. “You want huevos rancheros? Extra spicy, just the way you like 'em. Might destroy whatever's ailing ya before it can take hold.”
“Sure. Thanks, Dad.”
He gets to work, clattering around the kitchen, pots banging on the counters, noisier than ever. I take a seat at the breakfast counter, watching him make a mess. “Your mom’s taken Max to the movies,” he says. “I know she told you about Gail. She’s been crying all morning. I told her to get out of the house. Shame you’re sick. Max is all well and good, but I think she’d have rather had you to hang out with today. Another girl, y’know.”
Oh, I’m sure she would rather have gouged her own eyes out than spend the day with me. I’m the only other person in the world who knows her dirty little secret. As a rule, I’ve learned that people don’t like spending extended amounts of time with the people who know all about their misdeeds. Seeing them only serves to remind them of their crimes, and they’ll do anything to avoid facingthoseat all costs. “Yeah, it is a shame. I feel so bad for Dr. Coombes right now,” I murmur.
“Yeah, poor bastard. Don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost your mom. God, it doesn’t even bear thinking about.”
Normal, everyday statements like this have already begun to take on much deeper meanings for me, and I fucking hate it. I despise that I've been put in this position. My father has no idea how close he is…or was…to losing Mom. Not to a car crash, though. To a guy named Dan, her boss, who has sat at our dining table with his wife and eaten dinner with us more times that I can remember.
Does Dan’s wife know anything about the fact that her husband’s been fucking my mother? And what would Dad actually do if hedidfind out? A part of me thinks he’d leave her. Another part of me suspects that he’d stay, though, try and save their marriage, because that’s just the kind of guy he is, and that just breaks my fucking heart for him.
He'd be crushed. He'd be in pain, and yet he'd stay, for Max and for me, and for all the years he and Mom have shared together, but every time he looked at her, he'd see it all in his head, imagining every last little kiss and caress that was shared betweenthem, and it would eat him alive.
“Sil? Earth to Silver? What’s wrong? You look like you’re about to burst into tears. My cooking really isn’tthatbad.”
“Oh, I know. I—it’s just—it’s my sinuses, that’s all.” I scrub at my eyes with the backs of my hands, glad I caught myself in time before I actually started crying. “The onions probably aren’t helping. My head feels like it’s about to explode.”
“Joking aside, why don’t you go back up to bed, honey? I can bring this up to you when it’s ready. You probably should rest.”
I want to be able to stay here with him, listening to his dumb jibes and laughing at how absolutely lame he is in the best possible way, but I honestly can’t trust myself. I feel like I’m going to dissolve into a puddle of misery, and that would be really, really bad. “Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.”
I get up and head for the stairs. It’s stupid and feels a little too obvious, but I pause at the foot of the first step, glancing back at him over my shoulder. “Hey, Dad?”
“What’s up, kiddo?”
“I love you.”
His eyes round out, as big as silver dollars. “Shit, Silver. You really must be sick.”
I’m slipping into my bedroom when I hear him yell up the stairs after me. “But I love you, too, sweetheart!”
* * *
Mom and Maxget back from the movies around five. I don't go down for dinner. I just…I can't force myself to convincingly sit there and pretend. I would fail. Snap at her or something, and Dad would lose his shit. No way would he be okay with me giving Mom attitude when, as far as he's concerned, she's grieving over the death of her best fucking friend.
If I’m being fair, sheisgrieving over her friend. She’s just also feeling guilty as fuck because she feels responsible for the accident that killed Gail, and she’s been revealed to be an adulterous monster at the same time. I can appreciate what a head fuckthatmust be at least.
She goes to bed ridiculously early, shutting herself away in their bedroom. At nine, I head downstairs and knock on Dad’s office door, knowing he’ll still be at his desk, working hard.
“Enter at your own peril,” he calls.
