by Q. B. Tyler
Fuck.
I shake my head and take a step back, away from the embrace of my stepfather and bite my lips nervously. Well, that was new.
He cups my cheek and rubs his thumb over it as he gives me a sad smile. “Let’s go, Stass.” I frown, wondering why we’re leaving in the middle of the school day and more importantly why he’s so solemn, but I’m too afraid to ask.
Minutes later, we’re in his car and he still hasn’t told me what’s happening.
“Dominic, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
“Stas—” His voice breaks and he shakes his head slowly.
Hearing the emotion in his voice is like a punch to the gut and I find myself struggling to breathe. I’m not sure what a panic attack feels like, but I think the way my throat is closing up and my heart is racing is pretty close to what it feels like. I unbuckle my seatbelt, desperate not to feel the weight of the belt against my chest for a second longer. The tension in the car is so thick it’s almost unbearable and despite the rain falling on this particularly cold April day I roll the window down slightly.
“Where are we going?” I manage out between deep breaths.
“In and out, sweetheart.” My eyes flick to him, hearing the term of endearment he hadn’t used in years. I move my gaze away from his face to the steering wheel, noting his firm grip that has his knuckles turning white.
“Dominic,” I repeat his name, “I’m not kidding around. You yank me out of school without a word in the middle of the school day. What the fuck?”
His eyes move away from the road for no more than a second to chastise me for my language I’m sure. He doesn’t, but I see the brief scolding look in his eyes before he turns back to the road. His brows are furrowed as if he’s angry but I can see the devastation in his eyes and he has the posture of a man that looks as if he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders. Slumped and defeated and so unlike how he usually carries himself. Every few seconds his Adam’s apple bobs, like he’s struggling to swallow and suddenly the need to comfort him overwhelms me like a wave threatening to take me under.
“I’ll tell you as soon as we get there. I’m worried…” He swallows. “Worried that once I say it, I’m going to lose it. And you…” He lets out a deep breath. “You’re definitely going to lose it.”
* * *
I don’t say anything in response to Dominic’s ominous comment. Instead, I let my mind run wild with all of the possible scenarios. I note that we aren’t going to my house, but we’re taking the familiar route to where my mother works. Feelings of dread pool in my stomach in hopes that we’re just going to visit my mother and not that someone we know is in the hospital. Those feelings of dread turn to terror as he pulls into the Emergency Room parking lot which is not the entrance we would use if this was just a friendly visit.
Dominic shuts off the car and rests his forehead against the steering wheel before a deep sigh leaves his mouth. “Stassia…I’m so sorry.”
“For…what?”
“For what I’m about to tell you…” Tears pool in his eyes but they dissipate when he clears his throat. “Your mom…” he chokes out.
And instantly my worst fear comes to life.
The funeral falls on the coldest, rainiest day of April. My teeth chatter together as we sit beneath the tent at the gravesite and I chastise myself for not wearing a heavier coat like my grandmother advised. I pull the black jacket tighter around me and bounce my legs both out of nerves and to warm my bare legs. I hear sniffles around me every few moments and Dominic grips my hand tighter as if to say I’m here. I can tell he’s trying to keep it together for me, but I haven’t cried yet and his eyes won’t stop watering.
“I can’t…I can’t fix it. I’m so sorry.” He says this over and over under his breath.
I still don’t cry despite hearing the emotion in his voice. I don’t know why I’m not having that reaction when I loved my mother more than anyone in the world. But the tears don’t come. I don’t even feel the familiar prickle. I feel numb. Hollow. Like I’m in a dream where feelings and sensations don’t exist. I let go of Dominic’s hands and pinch myself for the hundredth time in the past week. God, are you sure I’m not dreaming?
It’s been a week since my mother died and I haven’t shed a tear. I haven’t spoken much either. Dominic has all but begged me to see someone, as he thinks I’m internalizing my feelings, but every time I tell him no, I don’t want to see anyone. When I’m ready to talk, I will and I’m not ready to talk even though the news spread quickly at my school and everyone was trying to be there for me.
The wife of the principal and mother of a student, killed in a car accident, has everyone lending their support. My phone still hasn’t stopped buzzing and I know that if I turn around, there will be several students and teachers standing just behind the tent, all doing their best to give strength and support to me and my stepfather.
I look up at the man who’s been through this once before. A man who at only forty, has now been a widower twice. My heart hurts for him just as much as it does for me. I may have had my mother for nearly eighteen years but he’s only had her for seven. Neither seemed fair.
My eyes pull away from my stepfather as something just to the left of the tent catches my attention. Well, someone. He’s dressed in black slacks and a gray overcoat over a turtleneck. Glasses are perched on his nose and his brown hair is slicked back completely. He looks like someone from the mob who’s fallen into a Ralph Lauren catalogue. Everything about him screams, ‘stay the fuck away’ and yet, I can’t keep my gaze from moving back to him. There’s almost a familiarity about him but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“Dominic,” I whisper and his eyes snap to mine instantly despite the preacher asking us to bow our heads in prayer. Dominic is probably in shock because it’s one of the few times I’ve spoken in the past week. I nod towards the mysterious man. “Do you know who that is?”
His sad blue eyes trace my face for a second before he pulls his gaze from me almost reluctantly and looks towards the man. “Son of a bitch,” he murmurs. He leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and puts his head in his hands. His father, seated to the left of him, rests his hand on his back, assumedly trying to comfort him. From an outsider’s perspective, I’m sure it seems like he’s having a moment of weakness. Like he’s breaking down over losing the love of his life, but I can feel the tension radiating off of him in waves.
He is pissed.
“Who is it?” I lean forward and repeat my question.
He doesn’t answer again, nor does he meet my eyes, and I’m instantly irritated over his blatant disregard for my question. I sit back in my chair with a huff, crossing my legs, making my skirt ride up slightly and revealing more leg than may be appropriate for a funeral. Dominic sits back in his seat. “Later. Not now.”
After the funeral, Dominic and I have been passed around several times for hugs, kisses, and what seemed like never ending promises of ‘anything you need’ and ‘call anytime.’ I’m sure most of them meant it, but I’m sure most of them know I’ll never call them. I don’t need many people. My grandparents. My best friend. My mother. I bite the inside of my cheek as the tears form for the first time in a week.
My mother is dead.
I don’t have a father.
I’m an orphan.
That’s not true. You’ve got Dominic.
He’s not my father.
He’s the closest thing you’ve got.
I’m just about to provide another rebuttal to my subconscious, but in that moment, fate decides after seventeen and a half years, it’s ready to fuck with my daddy abandonment issues.
“You look just like her.”
I had managed to get away from the crowds and the endless hugs that were making me feel like I was suffocating. I’d stepped away for some peace and maybe to take the edible that Kate had given me in case I needed an escape.
I turn around to find the guy that I’d spotte
d at the funeral. Mob guy. I blink several times as if to say what do you want? His English is good, but his Italian accent is thick. Like maybe he’s spent a lot of time here at some point but is currently living abroad.
“How old are you?” he asks and I frown at his question. No, I’m sorry for your loss? My condolences? What the fuck?
“I’ll be eighteen next month.”
“Wow.” He chuckles and pulls his glasses from his face. “I feel so old at this moment.” He takes a step closer to me and I take a step back, suddenly wishing that I hadn’t been so curious about this man. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Who are you? I’ve…I’ve never seen you before. Are you a long lost family member or something?” Maybe an old boyfriend of my mother’s?
“Or something.” He nods as he slides his glasses back on. “Stassia, right?”
“You know my name, but I don’t know anything about you. How about we just cut to the chase? In case you couldn’t tell, I’m not really in the mood for it today.”
“Get the fuck away from her, you worthless piece of shit.” My eyes widen when I hear Dominic’s voice booming over all of us. My grandmother is behind him and I want to glare at Dominic for using that kind of language around her but something tells me that she’s on board with it at the moment with the way she’s glaring at the mysterious stranger.
The stranger’s eyes find Dominic’s and he puts his hands up in surrender. “I just came to pay my respects.”
“Pay your respects? Are you fucking serious?” Dominic growls.
He shakes his head and pulls his glasses from his face to clean the lenses, but if I had to guess, it seems more like psychological warfare than anything. “Have you thought that maybe you don’t know everything? Maybe there’s things about your precious wife you don’t know?” he says as he slides them onto the bridge of his nose.
“Screw you,” I snap before Dominic can say anything. “Let’s say for argument’s sake he doesn’t know everything if you’re going to allude that you had some weird relationship that has her cheating on her husband. I call bullshit, because I’d know. I do know everything.”
My mother and I were close, we told each other everything.
“So, you know all about me, then?”
Dominic takes a step closer to the stranger, partially in front of me, blocking my view. “Stassia, go with your grandmother.”
“Come on, honey.” I smell her before I feel her hand encased in mine. Cocoa Butter and a brief hint of cinnamon. One of my favorite smells.
“Wait. I want to know who this is. Why does he know me?” I take a step forward and look up at Dominic. We get on each other’s nerves and we knew how to push each other’s buttons but to my knowledge, he’s never lied to me. In fact, he’s quite good at doling out the hard truth when it’s necessary, even if it hurt.
“She knows nothing of me, does she?”
“Why would she? You haven’t been around.” My grandmother interjects. “Ever.”
“That was by no choice of mine,” he retorts.
I frown, hearing the words spelled out almost completely for me. “Wait.” I stop. “Are you…” I take a step forward, in front of Dominic, and I stare into the eyes of the man who’s becoming less and less like a mystery. “Are you…my father?”
He has the decency to look contrite as he slides his hands into his pockets. “She kept you away from me, Stassia…”
“Bullshit!” Dominic spits out from behind me and I put up a hand, which I know he hates, but I’m hoping in this moment he’ll just shut the fuck up.
“Answer my question,” I demand.
“You’re a spitfire, aren’t you?” I narrow my eyes, staring him down. He pulls his jacket tighter around him as wind whips around us in this already icy moment. “Yes.”
I was anticipating that answer, but clearly, the rest of me wasn’t because I drop to my knees in a fit of sobs. The cathartic release my body has been desperate for clings to that one word that leaves his lips. How!?
“Shit.” I hear and then strong arms are wrapped around me. For a brief moment, I think it is dear old dad comforting me and my back stiffens, but then a sense of familiarity washes over me. “It’s just me,” Dominic whispers in my ear. “I’ve got you.”
I briefly hear my grandmother and grandfather, who rarely raises his voice, using the words good for nothing and abandoned and so much fucking back child support.
Dominic pulls me to my feet so my back is to the altercation and he slowly walks me away from the scene unfolding. “Don’t look back there. That’s not about you. It’s just that asshole making the situation about him, per usual.”
My mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to unpack everything that’s happened in the last week. Losing one parent but gaining another? Is this the trade off? If so, this is bullshit. But I also know if this is the last chance I’ll ever have to speak to the man that is responsible for half of my DNA, I want answers. Or at least one fucking answer. I pull from Dominic’s grasp and move towards my grandparents and whatever his name is.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Darling,” my grandmother starts.
“Grandma, please,” I plead.
“Micah,” he answers, despite the three sets of eyes glaring at him to walk the fuck away and leave me in the dark.
“Where do you live?” Is he nearby? Has he been living down the fucking block this whole time?
“New York, but I spend a lot of time in Italy for work.”
“Why…now? Where have you been my whole life?”
“She kept me away, Stassia. She said I wasn’t fit to be a father, and she was right. I was in with a lot of bad people for a long time. Dangerous people. But I got out of all that. I run a legitimate business now, I swear.”
“Okay, so you were in the mob or whatever the fuck.” I wince and look at my grandmother. “Sorry,” I tell her before turning back to him. “But that doesn’t stop you from picking up the phone, or writing me a letter, or even letting me know you existed…or that you cared that I existed.”
“I did write to you. I sent birthday cards…you never got them, I guess.” Is he fucking serious?
“Wow, that must make you father of the year, huh? You’re a coward. You didn’t want the responsibility or the liability of having a family while you were off playing The Godfather or whatever. Excuse me for not being moved by your attempts to reach out via some bullshit Hallmark cards.”
His face falls and I watch as his seemingly perfect posture deflates slightly. “Stassia…”
“You didn’t want me.” My voice is even and I’m proud of myself for keeping the emotion out of my voice. I’m proud that I didn’t let him see just how much years of indifference affected me. How much his presence is affecting me now. He doesn’t deserve that.
“I did.” His voice is pleading, like he wants so badly for me to believe him, but I can’t help feel this is all some bullshit act to ease his guilty conscience over being a shitty father especially now that I don’t have a mother.
Don’t let years of your mother’s truths be erased by ten minutes of pretty words, Stassia. “My mother said you split when she got pregnant.”
“That’s not entirely true. I split because they would have taken you both from me. I couldn’t care about anyone or they would have taken them as leverage. I loved you before I even met you and I loved your mother more than I loved myself, so I left, to save your lives.”
I look over at my grandmother, wondering how she feels about what I assume to be new information. “I think it’s very easy to say all of this now, when your child is damn near grown,” she snaps. Wow, she didn’t even buy it, and she’d invite the devil in for a hot meal if he needed it.
“It’s the truth. I’ve been out of that life for a few years now, but…your mom…Angela, she said it was too late. You were fifteen and doing so well. She said I’d fuck your life up by coming back.”
Why Mama!? You knew I wanted to k
now this side of my family and you turned him away when he was trying!
“Is that true?” I turn around to look at Dominic and he looks just as stunned. “Tell me!”
“I…I don’t know, Stassi.”
“I just want a chance to be in your life, Stassia. I know you don’t trust me and have probably heard a lot of terrible things about me growing up. But I’m not all bad. I made a lot of mistakes, but any mistakes I’ve made regarding you was to keep you safe. I should have come for you sooner, but…I thought I owed it to your mother to respect her wishes.”
“How did you find out she died?”
He clears his throat and looks off into the distance. “How? I…I had someone who kept tabs on you…to make sure you were safe. I haven’t in some time, but when your mother died…”
“You come here?” Dominic growls and steps in front of me. “What happened to respecting Angela’s wishes?”
“She’s practically eighteen now, she deserves the option to have a relationship with her father.”
“I’m her father.” He growls. “I taught her how to ride a bike and to drive. I’ve been there for her every second of the past seven years and she may not like it but I’ll continue to be there for her forever.”
I gasp quietly, not expecting that kind of reaction from the man I assumed only put up with me because he was married to my mother, not because of…me. Now that my mother is gone, I assumed he’d send me to live with my grandparents.
“Stassia is still seventeen, and in the eyes of the law, she’s still a minor, so it’s my job now to protect her from predators like you,” Dominic continues.
“I’m not a predator, you pretentious asshole, I’m her father.” I watch as this pissing match between my alleged father and stepfather unfolds. Both sides are getting heated, and I pray it doesn’t come to blows.