Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“I don’t want to hear it, Dad,” I tell him. “I don’t want you to sit there and dissect what he did or why he did it. He did it because that is who he is.” I put my hand to my stomach when it feels like a wave just went through it. “I was the stupid one who fell for it.”
“You weren’t stupid for falling in love,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “I fell in love with your mother when I was eighteen, and it was the best decision I ever made.”
“You have to say that only because I was the outcome of that.” I try to joke around.
“No, I don’t have to say that.” He gets up. “She was the love of my life,” he says softly, “and no one after her ever measured up to her.”
“Dad,” I say his name softly, and he shakes his head.
“I love my life, I love that I have you, and I love that I have your mother. I wouldn’t trade that for all the money in the world.” He turns to me. “Now, do you want to go and watch a movie with me?”
I nod. “I’m going to go change, and then I’ll meet you in the movie room,” he says, walking away, and I think about what he just said. I wonder if I will be like him and never get over Carter.
“Day by day,” I tell myself, going into the movie room and starting the old-fashioned popcorn maker that sits in the corner of the room. There are ten huge brown recliners that sit in two rows in front of a projection screen.
He comes in ten minutes later wearing sweats and a T-shirt. “What are we going to watch?”
“Well, we have a couple to choose from,” he says, going over to the DVDs that were delivered to him tonight. I follow him, and he flips through them, and I see the one of Carter’s. He tries to hide it, but I stop him.
“Let’s watch it,” I tell him. I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself, but maybe it’s like ripping the Band-Aid right off.
“We can watch something else,” he tells me, but I grab the DVD from him and walk over to the player. I put it in and meet my father by the second chair in the front. Sitting in it, I curl my feet under me. “If it gets too much . . .”
“Dad.” I roll my eyes. “Just press play,” I tell him, and he grabs the remote, pressing play and dimming the lights. The movie starts with the title of the film, and then his name flashes on the screen, and the wave in my stomach starts again. It’s been a week since I’ve seen him in person. I do check his Instagram every day, telling myself it’s just because of my job. His face fills the screen, and I stop and just look at him. His hair is pushed back, and you can see where his fingers ran through it, his eyes are crystal blue with the dark blue rim around the outer part. I watch him play his role to perfection. The movie isn’t done, not even close to it, but for an hour, I’m under his spell and feeling every single emotion he is feeling for his daughter.
“Oh my God,” I say when it comes to the end. “Dad.”
“I know,” he says. “I hate him for hurting you.” I shake my head. “But I have to give it to him, he is really going to make a name for himself with this movie.”
“I agree,” I tell him, getting up and walking out of the room with him. He turns off the projection screen. “I’m going to hit the hay. I’m exhausted. These days, I swear it’s a struggle to keep my eyes open after three o’clock.” I kiss his cheek. “Luckily, I can’t get fired.”
He shakes his head. “Good night, sweetheart.” I walk to my bedroom and get under the covers. Turning on my side, I stare at my phone and see no one has called me. I find myself checking my phone more often lately, my subconscious maybe hoping he’ll call. Or he’ll come by and explain why he did what he did. But nothing. I get nothing. I mean, is there really anything that he can say to explain why he did what he did? It’s pretty self-explanatory that I wasn’t enough for him. We weren’t enough for him. I was just his safe place to use me, keep his job, and improve his image. I close my eyes and fall fast asleep within minutes, another thing that comes easily these days. In my dreams, there is no pain, and in my dreams, there are no mistakes. It’s just me and him and his arms around me. I hear his voice, his laughter, and I feel him close to me. Then in the morning, I get to mourn him all over again.