“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” I say to Abby.
She sighs and pretends to bang her head on the table. “I’m done, Adley. I can’t study any more.”
“Yes, you can. You don’t want to take the state boards twice, do you? Because that’s what’s going to happen if you’re not prepared.”
“No, I don’t want to take it twice, but I’m prepared. You’re prepared. We need to schedule the test and get it over with.”
“Tomorrow,” I suggest. “We’ll schedule it first thing when we get here, and then we’ll study.”
“Fine. Go have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Lincoln lifts my bag over his shoulder and waves to Abby before taking my hand. He leads me out and helps me into his truck.
When he puts the truck in drive and pulls onto the road, I look at him. “Where are we going?”
“I thought a lot about what you said to me last night—about wanting to be a part of all the aspects of my life. You’re right. Your family might not know we’re dating—something we’re going to rectify soon—but I know them. I’ve spent time with them. I don’t talk about my dad much because there isn’t much to say. You know about my childhood now.”
“Lincoln—”
“Just let me get this out, okay?”
I nod, and he continues.
“I’ll never have a relationship with my dad like you have with your parents. There won’t be Easter dinners and Christmas mornings with him. But as much as I hate what he put Chloe and me through, I can’t turn my back on him. He’s been sober for almost seven weeks, and for once in his life, he seems to be actually trying. Not sure how long it’ll last, but if you’re ever going to meet him, now’s the time.”
“You want me to meet your dad?”
“No, not particularly.”
His knuckles turn white against the steering wheel. I rest my hand on his thigh and give it a gentle squeeze, something to let him know I understand and I’m here.
“But I’m not going to keep that part of my life from you anymore.”
“Thank you.”
He smiles, but it’s tight. “Three things before we get there. Don’t mention my mother, and don’t talk about alcohol. Those are the two things that could tip him over the edge. Lastly, don’t get too comfortable, because we won’t be staying long. I’m going to fix the leaky sink, and then we’re out of there.”
“I don’t have to go with you. If this makes you uncomfortable, or it’s something you’re just not ready for, say the word.”
“That’s not it. You’ll end up meeting him one day or another.”
If hearts could sigh, mine just did, because what he just said means what he sees for us is long term.
A few minutes later, we pull in front of a small house.
“Is this where you grew up?”
“No,” Lincoln says, sliding from his truck. He comes around to hold my door open and helps me out before hitting the lock button on his key fob. “He lost that house a few years ago. I bought him this place because he didn’t have anywhere to go, and no way in hell was he moving in with me.”
“It’s cute,” I say, following him up the walk. The landscaping is minimal but looks nice—a few bushes and some colorful flowers.
As soon as we hit the front porch, Lincoln’s demeanor shifts. His shoulders stiffen, his back goes rigid, and he takes a deep breath as though it’ll give him the courage he needs to knock.
“It’s a shithole,” he mumbles, walking in rather than waiting for someone to answer the door.
The first thing I notice are the boxes scattered across the room. Pictures are everywhere, as though someone has been trying to categorize them. And then I see the older man sitting on the edge of the couch. His nose is in a photo album, but when he shuts it and looks up, I nearly fall on my ass.
Lincoln looks so much like his father—minus the weathered skin, wrinkles, and spare tire around the midsection. His father’s eyes are a lighter shade of brown, more like whiskey, and they’re watching me closely.
“Who’s this?” he asks.
Lincoln steps to the side and grabs my hand. “This is my girlfriend, Adley. Adley, this is my dad, Christopher Bennett.”
“Chris,” his dad corrects. “You can call me Chris.”
Chris’ eyes shift between me and Lincoln. Setting the photo album off to the side, he leans into the arm rest of the couch. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”
“There’s a lot about me you don’t know.” Lincoln’s voice is clipped, and when he turns away, Chris’ face falls.
He quickly hides the look of disappointment when I hold my hand out.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Lincoln has told me so much about you.”
He stares at my hand before giving it a quick shake. “He has?”
“I have?” Lincoln says from the other room.
“Okay, no, not really. But isn’t that what most people say?”
I can’t see Lincoln, but I hear him snort, and Chris smiles.
“So, you like my son, huh?”
LINCOLN
Wrapping the tool belt around my waist, I secure it and wait for Adley to answer.
“Oh no, sir, I don’t like him. He can be grouchy and quite the asshole, but I’m guessing that’s something he gets from you.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. Leave it to Adley to get a dig on my dad without being overly rude. Just as I’m about to crawl under the sink, my dad does something I haven’t heard him do in years. He laughs—a full-bodied, toss-your-head-back laugh.
This I’ve got to see.
I poke my head around the corner, my eyes not quite believing my ears. But there he is, laughing to the point of tears. Adley looks at me, brows raised and a triumphant little smile on her face.
“Oh, shit,” Dad says, trying to stop laughing. “I like her.”
“Everyone likes her.”
Adley grabs a tissue from the end table and hands it to my dad. “Well, not everyone. I don’t think Lincoln’s ex-girlfriend, Rose, likes me.”
Dad cuts a hand through the air. “Eh, who cares? You can’t win ’em all, kid. Have a seat.”
Adley moves a few albums from the couch and sits down. “For the record, I was just kidding. I do like your son, and he’s rarely grumpy or an asshole. He’s a great guy.”
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t get that from me,” Dad says, wiping his face with the Kleenex.
Adley clears her throat and points to a stack of photos. “Got any naked photos of Lincoln in there that I can use against him someday?”
“Oh geez.” I roll my eyes and maneuver my body under the sink, listening to Dad and Adley carry on.
“Oh, I’m sure I’ve got something.”
A couple of minutes later, Adley busts up laughing and comes running into the kitchen.
“Look at you,” she says waving a picture. I sit up and try to snag it from her, but she’s too quick. “Oh no, this one is mine.”
“Hold still,” I say, chuckling. “I can’t see it.”
I grab Adley’s wrist so I can get a good look at the faded picture.
In the photo I’m wearing a pair of white underwear, my mother’s heels, a strand of pearls, and oversized sunglasses. And I’m smiling. I’ve never seen the photo. I tug Adley’s arm so I can get a closer look. My mother is crouched beside me, one arm around my shoulders, smiling for the camera.
I couldn’t have been more than three or four in that picture. Chloe wasn’t even born yet. I’d give anything to remember that day, to know what it felt like to have my parents’ undivided attention, to see them smile and laugh and play with me.
“See if you can find a few more like that,” I say.
Adley’s playful smile turns thoughtful, and she nods. “Here.” She holds the photo out, and I take it.
“I thought this one was yours?”
“Yeah, well, I know where you live, so…” Her playful words hang in the air, and then she bends down and whi
spers, “By the way, you look hot with that tool belt. Maybe you can wear it again later tonight.”
“The tool belt does it for ya, huh?” I say, tugging her down for a kiss.
“You do it for me, but the tool belt helps.”
“Good to know. Now get out of here so I can finish fixing this sink.”
Adley walks away, and I go back to working. She and Dad banter back and forth, and I listen as he tells her stories about various times in my and Chloe’s life. I notice that most of the things he talks about are before shit got real bad, before my mother left.
He tells her about the one and only time we took a family vacation and how much fun we had playing in the pool. But he leaves out the part where Mom got drunk in the hotel lobby, trashed our room, and ultimately got us kicked out. Then he tells Adley about the time I played the lead in the school play, leaving out the part where Mom showed up drunk. I was so nervous to have her there that I messed up my lines. She booed me from her seat, and when we got home that night, she screamed at me for hours. Eventually I got tired of listening to her and walked away. That was a big mistake because Dad grabbed me by the hair, drug me down the hall, and forced me to apologize for the way I’d treated her.
With each story he tells, I remember more and more of the bad, and I begin to get anxious and frustrated.
There’s something about the way he describes each photo. I can hear the smile in his voice, and that makes me angry because he’s making our childhood out to be something it wasn’t.
Adley is sitting there taking it all in, laughing and chatting with the man I’ve spent most of my life hating, and that pisses me off too.
I need to get out of here before I do or say something to make a scene.
Tightening the last bolt, I slide out from under the sink. Yanking my tool belt off, I toss it on the table and check the faucet. Confident the leak is fixed, I wash my hands, pull my keys from my pocket, and walk into the living room.
Adley is flipping through a stack of photos, and when Dad hands her another one, she grabs it and adds it to a pile on the armrest next to her.
They’re interacting as though they’ve known each other for years, and that only fuels my frustration. I wanted her to meet the guy, not fall in love with him. Because this is a façade. Eventually he’ll fall apart again, the way he always does, and I’ll be left to pick up the pieces.
And even if he doesn’t, he can’t change what’s happened in the past.
“Let’s go,” I announce.
Dad looks up, but Adley doesn’t. She continues flipping through the stack.
“Adley.”
“One sec,” she says, still not looking up.
“No. Not one sec. Now.” I take three steps, pull the photos from her hands, and drop them on the table. “I’m ready to go.”
I’m being a dick, but I want out of this house and away from my father.
Adley narrows her eyes, but stands up.
“Don’t forget your pictures.” Dad grabs the small stack of photos she had sitting beside her.
“Thank you,” she says. “And thank you for letting me go through all of this with you. It was fun hearing some of the stories from Lincoln’s childhood.”
Oh, fuck me.
I spin around and head for the door.
Dad sighs. “He didn’t have the best childhood. I’m trying to focus on the good memories rather than the bad ones. If I let myself dwell on the bad ones, I’ll end up with more regrets than I already have.”
“Keep working on that, Dad,” I say, yanking open the door. “Let’s go.”
Adley follows me to the truck, and once we’re buckled in, she turns to me.
“Why are you being such a dick?”
“Why are you acting all chummy with my father?”
Her jaw drops. “What did you want me to do? Yell at him and tell him I think he’s a piece of shit and doesn’t deserve you? Because that’s what I wanted to say. But I was trying to be nice.”
“Well, next time don’t try so hard.”
“Is that why you’re pissed? Because I was nice to your father?”
“No. Fuck.” I push my fingers into my hair and drop my head back against the rest. “I’m pissed because the man you met in there isn’t the same guy I’ve been dealing with for years. He’s different. I don’t know what the fuck is going on with him, but—”
“He’s trying to change,” Adley says softly.
“He can’t,” I shout. “He can’t fucking change. Do you know how many times he’s stopped drinking?” I close my eyes for a moment. “More than I can count. And every goddamn time, he eventually gives in. This time is no different. He can get out the photos and smile about the few good times we had, but he can’t change who he was.”
“You’re right. He can’t change who he was because that’s in the past. But maybe he can change who he is.”
I hear what she’s saying, but I don’t think for a second that he’s capable of that.
“Do you believe people can change, Lincoln?” she asks.
“Yes, but—”
“You said this is the longest he’s ever been sober. Maybe this is the clearest his mind has ever been, and now he’s able to visualize the past with a different lens—a sober lens.”
I’m shaking my head before she finishes her sentence. “You don’t know him like I know him.”
“You’re right. What he did was horrible, inexcusable, and I’m not condoning it. But you want to believe he can change; I can see it in your eyes. You’re just scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Yes, you are. You’re scared that if he does change, if he tries to atone for his actions, you’ll be tempted to forgive him.”
“I will never forgive him for the things he put us through.”
“You’re probably right, and no one would blame you. But maybe you could learn to move on. Maybe you could get to know the man your father is today—the man he wants to be—while he’s still here.”
“Maybe,” I mumble, looking at the front door.
I picture him sitting in the living room, day after day, fighting his demons. Alone. And while I spent many nights fighting my demons alone, it still doesn’t sit well with me.
“What if I let him in and he relapses?”
“What if he doesn’t?”
I close my eyes, and when I open them, I unbuckle Adley and pull her into my arms. “I don’t know where to start,” I say, pressing my face to her hair.
I breathe her in.
Soft.
Warm.
Familiar.
Home.
“Maybe you could start by inviting him to Chloe’s graduation party.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I say, pulling back.
“Why not?”
Hell if I know.
“Because of Chloe?” she asks.
“Well, there’s that. And he hasn’t been out in public in years. I’m not even sure people realize he’s still alive.”
Adley’s brows dip low. “That’s really sad.”
“It is.” We sit in silence for several minutes, and then I open the door.
Adley’s hand on my arm stops me. “Where are you going?”
“To invite him to the party.”
“Should you talk to Chloe first?”
“She’ll say no. If I’m angry and bitter, Chloe is closed off and indifferent. Trust me, we’re better off if he just shows up without her knowing.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.” But it’s a chance I’m willing to take if it’ll bring her some form of closure.
I climb out of the truck. When I get to the front door, I look back at Adley, and she gives me a thumbs up.
Without knocking I open the door. Dad’s head snaps up.
“Did you forget something?” he asks.
“Uh, yeah…” I need to do something with my hands, so I shove them in my pockets. “Rose is throwing Chloe a graduation party this Saturd
ay. I was wondering if you’d like to come.”
His breath hitches, and I watch his eyes widen. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
I nod. “Good. You can ride with me.”
21
Adley
“I’m done,” I whine, dropping my head on the table.
Abby and I arrived at the library at eight o’clock this morning, scheduled our state boards, and have been studying ever since. My brain is fried, I’m exhausted, and did I mention my brain is fried? After I take this test, I’m going to sleep for days.
“Oh no you’re not.” Abby grabs my ponytail and pulls my head out of the textbook. “We’ve still got women’s health to study.”
“I can’t. I’m so tired I can’t see straight. Literally. My vision is going wonky from staring at these stupid books all day.”
“Come on, I’ll go through some review questions with you, and then you can quiz me.”
“What do I get if I agree to this?”
“Besides being prepared?”
I nod, and she rolls her eyes.
“I’ll take you to Ricardo’s for a pizza.”
“Sold.” I shove the study guide over to Abby and close my eyes as she asks the first question.
“Define infertility.”
“Inability to conceive after one year of regular intercourse, two to three times a week without using contraception.”
“Good. List three things that can alter a man’s fertility.”
“STDs. Radiation or chemotherapy. And…elevated scrotal temperature due to tight-fitting underwear.”
“And alcohol,” she adds.
“You said three things. I gave you three things.”
“I know, crab ass. I was just throwing that out there so you would know.”
“Sorry.” I give her my best puppy-dog look, and she waves me off.
“Let’s keep going. What is placenta previa?”
“It’s when the placenta grows along the lowest part of the uterus, covering all of or part of the cervix.”
“What is the main symptom of placenta previa?”
“Bleeding.”
“What are the most common presenting complaints of vaginitis?”
Crazy, Stupid Love Page 13
