For the Win

by Brenna Aubrey

  "Don't say anything. Just turn around and walk away." I couldn't have said another word, anyway, because my breath was stolen in shattering sobs. He made a move toward me again but I backed away, holding up my hand.

  Through my tears, I saw my dad exiting the building, striding toward the car like a man on a vendetta mission. I nodded my head in his direction and slipped into my seat, sinking into the plush leather. I slammed the car door shut after me. It was hot and stuffy inside, but I didn't want to roll down the window. I wished I could curl up and die.

  Jordan hesitated by my door for a few moments longer before drifting away. He crossed paths with my dad on his way back into the building. Dad hesitated for a few seconds, nodding at Jordan with a grim face, his eyes continually fixed on me.

  Then Jordan continued to the building without looking back, and I dropped my eyes to the dashboard, folding my arms over my chest protectively. I tried to ignore the sting inside me that came with every beat of my heart.

  Dad opened the door, slid into the driver's seat and then slammed the door shut after him. Coolly, I handed him his keys, leaned away from him and stared out the window. He started the car and, without speaking, headed toward the 5 freeway, which would take us back to his house and my car.

  However, before he even made it onto the interstate, he pulled over into a strip mall parking lot and turned off the ignition. I didn't look up from where I fiddled with my phone. I'd checked social media and already tweets were starting to appear under the hashtags #ComicConSexGeeks and #assexposed. My name and handle were all over them, along with pictures of my backside in the torn bathing suit.

  There were no personal texts on my phone. I was already wishing one would show up. One with two little words, the words he hadn't said to me. I'm sorry...

  Dad waited for a moment, taking a deep breath. Throughout my childhood, the only time I'd ever heard him yell was at people who worked for him. He'd never yelled at me before, even those times when I wished he had rather than not acknowledge me at all.

  But he couldn't just shove me away now. I was the daughter who had publicly disgraced him in front of everyone involved in his exciting new business venture.

  "Put your phone away for a minute," he said in a quiet voice.

  I held my breath and did as he asked.

  "I'm going to be blunt. I'm too angry to get on the freeway right now."

  "Do you want me to drive, then?"

  "I want you to tell me what the hell was in your head. Why would you do something like this and risk blowing your entire future?"

  I straightened, squaring my shoulders, digging deep within myself to find the strength to say the words burning on my tongue. I looked him straight in the eye as I spoke.

  "I made a very bad choice. If you can say you've never done the same, then you get the right to judge me for it. But you can't, because I'm living proof of one of the worst choices you've ever made."

  He scowled. "So you are going to make this about me and your mother? I've heard this song and dance before...but you aren't a teenager anymore. You're twenty-two years old. You need to grow up."

  "You're right. I do. But...isn't that what growing up is all about? Making mistakes and learning from them? Isn't that how you learned?"

  He ran a hand over his eyes and I noticed he was a little pale. There was a long, tense silence. His phone chimed and he pulled it out, read the text message--likely from Rebekah--and typed something into it. Then he put his phone down.

  "You know what hurts me most about this? Beyond any of the embarrassment, it's the fact that you're sabotaging yourself and your future. You're in danger of throwing your life away. You're an intelligent, beautiful woman. You really shouldn't be blaming your poor choices on your parents."

  I nodded. "My choices are mine to own..." Then my voice died out and tears sprang to my eyes. I took a deep breath and released it. Even my throat stung. "It's easy to throw things away when you don't think they're very valuable in the first place."

  His face clouded. I blinked, trying to keep my tears from spilling over.

  "Why would you think that?"

  I looked up at him. "You tell me."

  His gaze intensified and he rubbed a hand along his jaw. I knew he didn't know what to say to me.

  "It's okay. You've got your perfect family waiting for you at home. You don't need to worry about me anymore."

  He hissed out a breath like I'd just punched him in the stomach. I looked away, and a lone tear spilled down my cheek. "What do I need to do to show you that I love you, April? I love you every bit as much as Sarah and Daniel. I don't get where this is coming from. I pay--"

  "I don't want your bank account. I want you. Ever since I was a kid, you were never there for me. You always pawned me off on someone else. Oma or the nanny or my mom, and eventually, Rebekah. But never what I needed. Never you."

  He looked stunned. "I didn't think I could give you what you needed. I thought a woman--"

  "You thought I wouldn't want you because my mom didn't." My fists closed, knotting with the frustration that I felt.

  He grimaced. "Your mother and I were a disaster. I never, ever wanted any of that to affect you."

  The tears were now flowing freely down my cheeks. How could he be so smart and yet so clueless about the people who loved him most? "But it did, Daddy. Because neither one of you wanted me."

  Alarm crossed his features and he shook his head. "How could you think that? I've never said--"

  My lip trembled, and now I just didn't care if he saw me lose it. I'd found the courage to speak up to my mom. Now it was time to do the same with my dad. Only this was scarier, because I cared far more about losing any relationship I had with my dad than the nominal one I'd had with my mom.

  "I tried to call you..." I began faintly.

  "When?"

  "I was in San Diego at ComicCon. She called me from Vegas to tell me she'd just married Gunnar."

  His features chilled. I'd ended up having to inform him about Gunnar and my mom via email a few weeks later. He hadn't said much. My dad didn't often discuss my mother, likely for fear that he would say something negative about her to me.

  "I got your assistant and you never called back."

  "I'm sorry. I told you in the email. I didn't realize how urgent the message was. I'm not perfect, April."

  "You're not there. Period." I shook my head, continuing on. "I needed to talk to someone who would understand. Anyone. Because you don't have to put up with her shit anymore, Dad. I do."

  He held up a helpless hand. "There is nothing I can do that can change that."

  "Yes, there is. You can be there for me."

  I sighed, feeling defeated. I didn't want to talk about this anymore. I just wanted him to turn on the ignition and drive. It hurt too much--and like always, I was afraid if I told him how I really felt, I'd lose whatever love he had for me, such as it was.

  "You've never told me any of this before."

  I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand. "I was afraid to."

  He frowned. "I didn't raise you to think like that--"

  "You didn't raise me," I said, my voice low in my throat. My dad flinched, but he said nothing. "Neither did she, and I finally stood up to her. It's time I did the same with you."

  "So this is what it's come down to? Some cliche? The slutty girl with daddy issues--"

  I held up my hand. "Stop right there. I'm not a slut and I am not ashamed of myself. I made a bad decision--but that has nothing to do with my having sex. If I were your son, you'd be congratulating me for that."

  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, rubbing them with his thumb and forefinger through his lids. "I'm sorry," he said in a voice thick with emotion--more emotion than I'd ever heard from him. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean that."

  "I'm sorry too...I'm sorry you're ashamed of me. But I'm not ashamed of me, and that is what's most important. Not what you think. Not what Rebekah thinks. And definitely not what my mothe
r thinks."

  He opened his eyes and dropped his hand, then looked at me with that hard stare I'd seen him use in business deals when he was going for the jugular.

  "I'm not ashamed of you. This situation, however, has humiliated me. I'm not going to lie about that."

  I lowered my eyes and ran my hands over the upholstery of my seat, picking at it nervously. I'd spoken up for myself--finally. But it didn't feel as freeing as it had with my mom.

  "If I could change that, I would. But I've been going through a pretty rough period in my life, and I had no one to turn to."

  He shook his head. "I'm sorry you couldn't get a hold of me. As for your mother--"

  "She came to the condo last month. Just showed up out of the blue, sitting in my front room with her boy toy, asking me for money, drunk off her ass." I wiped my wet cheeks with the back of my trembling hand.

  He nodded, swallowing, apparently too overwrought to talk. We sat there in silence before he cleared his throat. "Has she bothered you since then?"

  I pressed my lips together and shook my head, certain he wouldn't be pleased with the news I was about to give him. "I cut her out of my life, Dad. I had to. I told her I would block her texts and calls. It's a long story, but if she shows up again, I'll get a restraining order."

  He took a deep breath and let it out. "That doesn't make me happy, April. But it's not your fault that it came to this. You were right to do it. I just...I hope someday you can forgive. Her...and me."

  I couldn't say anything in response. My face lowered and the tears came faster, and I had no idea what to say even if I could even talk. Everything just felt so raw and sore. Every breath stabbed me a little deeper.

  When I'd stood up to my mom, it had been easier. Jordan had believed in me--he'd told me I had the courage to do what I needed to do. To cut her out of my life. He certainly could talk a good talk when he wasn't the one in the line of fire. The enormity of the loss of him felt like a hole ripped in my chest. I almost couldn't breathe.

  Dad sat quietly for a long stretch, staring out the window.

  I cleared my throat to speak again. "I--I'm sorry you're hurt. I'm sorry you're humiliated. But your feelings are not more important than mine. And I've learned that lesson. That I need to speak up for myself."

  He didn't react for a minute, then looked at me with wary eyes. "Are you going to cut me out too? Like you did with your mother?"

  "No."

  His face slackened with relief and that reaction did something to me--showed me that he did care. He blinked quickly and then looked away, and I could tell that he was trying not to break down. Seeing my normally stoic dad showing even a hint of emotion cut deep--soul deep. But underneath all that pain was a spark of hope, a glimmer of happiness. My dad loved me enough to break down at the thought of my never wanting to speak to him again. And until this moment, I'd never known that.

  He quickly took control of his emotions, though, clearing his throat a few times and sniffing before turning back to the wheel. "We should--uh--Rebekah will be wondering where we are."

  He started the car and I leaned against the window, closing my eyes. I tried not to think about this day, tried to close my mind off to the hurt and humiliation. Tried not to envision those faces all staring at me in shock and disgust as I stood on the stairs, fully exposed. It was like a combination of all the worst naked dreams I'd ever had increased exponentially. It was hard to breathe and the occasional tear spilled over onto my cheek through my closed eyes.

  A half hour into the drive home, as I faded in and out of consciousness, emotionally exhausted, I felt my dad's hand close over my own where it sat on the console between us. My fingers grasped his and clamped on for dear life. His hold tightened on mine. It was the smallest gesture, but in that moment, we'd communicated more than we had in years.

  We arrived at my dad's place after dinner, and Rebekah was getting the kids ready for bed while I gathered up my stuff from my overnight stay and prepared to leave. She'd seen my face--blotchy skin and swollen eyes--but hadn't asked questions. But as I packed up, she wandered into the guest room with some containers.

  "I packed some dinner for you. There's enough for a few days. I know you like my vegetable frittata."

  I sniffed and took her offering, tucking it alongside my bag. "Thanks."

  "Are you okay?"

  I nodded but didn't say anything. Rebekah's features sobered as she studied me. She was a pretty woman in her mid-thirties with short, dark hair and brown eyes, and she was about my height. If I were ever to go out into public with both my mom and stepmom--God forbid that ever really happen--people would be more likely to think Rebekah was my biological mother. Which was apropos, really. Rebekah had been more of a mother to me than Jennifer ever could be.

  "Come down again soon, please? We like seeing you."

  I nodded again, my eyes stinging with fresh tears. Rebekah moved forward and--a little awkwardly, because she usually wasn't the hugging type--put her arms around me.

  "We care about you, April. I don't know what's going on with you and your dad and I'm going to respect your privacy, but...just remember you've got family here, okay? We love you."

  I pressed my hand to Rebekah's back and returned the hug, grateful for her care and concern--and especially her willingness to respect my privacy. "Thank you. Thanks for everything. I know I don't say that much. But thanks."

  Dad walked me out and put my bag in the car for me. As I bent to slide into the driver's seat, he stopped me with a hand on my arm. "April...I just want you to know that I do love you and I do care. I'm sorry I've done a poor job of showing you before this."

  "You did the best job you could," I said, clearing my throat. "Just like I did the best job I could. But it wasn't good enough."

  "Then we have to do better."

  I nodded. "Yeah."

  Slowly, as if fearing I'd pull away, he bent and kissed my cheek. "I'm going to be up in Orange County again next week. I want us to spend some time together if you can fit me in."

  "I appear to have a lot of free time," I whispered, remembering his words to Adam, insisting he terminate me from the company. It didn't matter. After that utter humiliation, I wouldn't go back of my own free will anyway.

  I got in the car and drove the two hours home, all the while thinking about this new shift in my relationship with my dad--and even Rebekah. And though the day had been completely mortifying, I couldn't help but think about the radical change in me. I'd stood up for myself--to Adam and to my dad. And to Jordan. And though I'd royally fucked things up, I was also proud of myself. I felt strong.

  But I also felt empty. I'd checked my phone before I started the car--no texts or calls from Jordan. What had I expected? I forced myself not to think about him all the way home.

  More often than not, I failed.

  It was just before Sid's bedtime when I arrived at our condo. She was dressed in her flannel pajamas while playing Dragon Epoch on her computer. Just the glimpse of the game's graphics on her screen was enough to make me feel nauseous. I walked into our room, tossed my bags down and flopped onto my bed. I was tempted to just roll over and go to sleep like that.

  Sid turned around and looked at me. "You look awful."

  I rolled my eyes. "Thanks. It's been a crap day, to put it mildly."

  She frowned. "I, um, heard. Or saw, rather. I was waiting to hear from you. I would have texted, but...I wasn't sure what state you were in."

  My lids closed over sore, aching eyes. Of course she'd heard--her and half the universe. I hadn't even checked since this afternoon to see how the story had undoubtedly grown and mutated across the Internet. I was bloody chum in the dark, shark-infested waters of social media.

  "So, uh, I pieced together what happened based on tweets and updates. Does this mean you aren't going to business school?"

  I chewed on my bottom lip, covering my face with my hands. I didn't have an answer for that.

  She shifted in her chair, which squeaked
loudly. "I'm not sure if this is the right time to bring it up, but...I figured out how the video got uploaded."

  I turned to her. "How?"

  "Well, all this time I'd been trying to scour the Internet for the earliest known source of the video. But that was a crazy way to go about it, because when something like that goes viral so fast, it's almost impossible. It was all over Tumblr and Reddit and 4Chan and Facebook and--"

  I held up my hand to cut off her dizzying litany. "All right. All right, I get it."

  "Anyway, I didn't realize that I could go to the source and trace it from the weapon itself!"

  "Huh?"

  "Your phone, Apes. I logged into the cloud backup of your phone, since you gave me the password. And it allowed me to see everything you did with that phone from the moment you made the video to the next day when you emailed said video to this address." She snatched a sticky note off her desk and handed it to me. On it was a cryptic email address to a generic, free email provider.

  "I never emailed the video. I'd remember that. And I don't even know how I could have done that by accident."

  "Because you didn't do it. Think...did anyone else have access to your phone that weekend? You said no, but..."

  I tilted my head, thinking. "Well, I was showing some pictures I'd taken of the Iron Man panel. I'd gotten a front row center view of Robert Downey Jr. and snapped a bunch of pics of him. The girls wanted to see."

  "Okay...so you held the phone while they looked at the pics?"

  I searched my memory. We'd been in the back of a carpool van riding home from the Con. The girls had been oohing and ahhing about how hot RDJ was. "Well, you know, I handed the phone around..."

  Her eyes narrowed. "And the video was in that same group of photos?"

  "I guess...I took tons of pictures that weekend." I frowned, trying to remember. "Hell, I was so hungover all weekend, I don't even know if I could remember my name. But my phone locks with my thumbprint. No one had access to it."

  Sid raised her dark brows. "You are way too trusting of your friends, April. Because someone did find that video and emailed it to themselves from your phone."

  My eyes squeezed shut as I froze in panic. "Oh shit. I remember now...Cari wanted to see the photos again. She took the phone out of my hand. But she only had it for like a minute or two."

  Sid nodded to the piece of paper she handed me. "That email is an anonymous address, but it's attached to a Twitter and a Tumblr account. I did some Googling, some cross-referencing. It wasn't easy because she covered her tracks as much as she could, but...the accounts are linked to Cari MacFerson's social media. In that two minutes that she had your phone in her hands, she emailed the video to herself from your phone. When she got home, she downloaded it to her computer and then uploaded it to the Internet. After it had been shared around, she deleted the original copy. But by then, it had gone viral."