Mum reaches for my leg and rests her hand on it. “Tell me about your day.”
I sigh, not wanting to share and bring us down, but she’ll want to know regardless. “It was okay, but then I found out business is slow at the bookstore and Allen is cutting shifts.”
“Yours?”
“Yes. I only have two shifts next week.”
“Maybe it’s time to look for another job.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I’m not excited about that idea, but I know I’m going to have to do it. Not wanting to talk about it anymore, I ask, “How’s your day been? How’s your pain?”
She lifts Meredith out of the bath. “Not too bad today.” When my mother says “not too bad” what she really means is “very bad.” She chases that lie with a smile and says, “I’ll get Meredith dressed and meet you in the kitchen.”
She heads in the direction of Meredith’s room and I go back to the kitchen. King and Cade are sitting at the kitchen table drinking their Milos and talking about fishing. That’s their thing, and I love watching King teach Cade all about it.
King’s eyes meet mine. “Grab your drink and come sit.” That’s code for “come talk.” He then says to Cade, “I need to talk to Zara, buddy. Do you wanna go play with your cars in your room? I’ll come and play when I’m finished.”
Cade’s eyes light up. “Yes!” Playing with his cars is his absolute favourite thing in the world, and having his daddy play with him ranks right up there, too. He takes off like a rocket, leaving me alone with King.
“It’s good to see you so relaxed,” I say as I slide onto a chair across from him at the table. “There should be more of it.”
“There would be if my daughter returned my calls.” The King level of intensity has found its way back to his eyes and his voice, and I feel bad for not calling him.
“I’m sorry. I should have taken your worry into consideration.”
“Yeah, you should have. Why were you avoiding me?”
I wrap my hands around my glass, feeling apprehensive about this talk. King doesn’t know all the events of that night or about my abortion, and I don’t want him to know. I don’t want anyone besides Mum and Holly to know. I just want to lock all that stuff away in the “never to be repeated or talked of” vault of memories.
Taking a deep breath, I answer his question with as much honesty as I can. “I didn’t feel good after seeing that psychologist. I don’t think she and I are a good fit. And I didn’t want to have to tell you I won’t be seeing her again.”
He stares at me silently, thoughtfully. “Fuck, Zara, you know you can give me your honesty at any time and I’ll accept it. I might not like it, but I’ll never discount it.”
“I know that, King, but what I also know is you’ll force me to find another psychologist and I don’t feel like I’m ready.”
“Because it’s too hard to think about and talk about?”
I swallow hard. Just talking about it like this is too hard, let alone talking about the actual events. “Yes.”
“That’s why you need to talk to someone.”
“I will, but just not yet. I need more time to process it myself.”
“I don’t think that’s the best choice. Not after what I saw the other day.”
“That hasn’t happened since. I’m okay. I’m working through it.”
He leans forward, eyes boring into mine. “How many times has it happened?”
It’s at times like this I wish King wasn’t such a good father. He pushes us to face stuff we don’t want to face, and right now I just want him to be like my real dad and let shit go. Let me get away with my own bullshit. But that’s not him and never will be. And I’ve learned that lying to him never works out in the end because he always finds a way to get the information he wants.
I try to maintain eye contact, but I can’t. I feel like I could cry any minute and I need to blink the tears into submission. I also need a moment away from his demanding gaze. Dropping my eyes, I look down into my lap and take that moment. When I look back up at him, I find compassion in his eyes. It hits me deep in my gut and my heart, and I let it sink in that he’s just looking out for me. Loving me. I swallow hard again and say quietly, “It’s happened a few times. More than a few times. Maybe like five times.”
“And you think that’s normal?” His voice is softer this time, the compassion in it matching that in his eyes.
I shake my head. Please don’t start crying. Not in front of King. “No.”
He’s silent again. It’s like I can see his mind working. Thinking. Figuring out how to help me handle this. “Do you think it would help if your mum went with you to the appointments? Even just to begin with. Or Holly?”