“Won’t it be weird?”
“It’s always a little weird. We can watch if you want, and if we can manage to get ourselves out of bed.”
We nap first, and then move to lie on the couch with my back to the back of the couch and Elizabeth in front of me. I feel better than I did earlier, so maybe that means I’ll be good to go by the time the upcoming road trip is here. My finger absentmindedly rubs her hip where the dove tattoo is. I have a feeling it’s there because of Roger.
Elizabeth places two blankets over us; her chills are worse than mine at the moment. She grabs my hand, places it on her stomach while hers rests on top of it, lacing her fingers with mine. “Can I ask you to do something for me?”
“I’d do anything you asked me to,” I answer honestly.
“If you don’t want to yet, just say so. I’ll leave it alone. If anyone knows that space is often needed and should be respected, it’s me.”
My fingers tighten because she’s about to ask of me something big. “Spit it out, Elizabeth.”
“Will you tell me about your dad? I can’t stop thinking about it now.”
I sigh and bury my nose into her hair. “There will be conditions. These conditions are nonnegotiable. You have to agree to them.”
“What a
re they?”
“Agree first.”
I don’t need to look to know she’s frowning. Her hesitation is enough of a sign. “Okay,” she quietly agrees.
“I don’t like talking about it, so tonight is your one shot. You can ask questions when I’m done, but I might not answer. After that, we’re not talking about it again unless I bring it up, and you have an opening. You’re not allowed to tell a soul about anything related to my father. That’s it. Easy conditions.”
She rolls over to face me. “I don’t think I’d necessarily call them easy, but they aren’t hard.” She press a quick kiss to my lips. “No rush; no pressure.”
Closing my eyes, I rest my forehead against hers. Where do I even start? Which part do I share with her first? Elizabeth wraps an arm around my waist and snuggles closer—a silent show of support. I open my eyes and start talking.
“He’s a recovering alcoholic. Well, he’s supposed to be. I don’t care if he’s sober or not, and I don’t ask to find out. He has issues with depression, so he’s on medication for that, which doesn’t combine well with alcohol. That was only one issue. I think there’s more going on, but he’s never been diagnosed with anything else. He was addicted to pain killers at one time, too. He was also a mean son of a bitch.” Elizabeth tenses and her eyes well with tears. Good thing I don’t plan to give details. She dips her head into my chest to cough.
“He pushed me in school, pushed me at home, pushed me with hockey. He complained about everything. Nothing I did was ever good enough and he never liked me. He was mostly nice whenever he talked about my mom and sometimes when he was sober, but that’s about it. Once I started making money, he started calling, asking for money. He’d want help with a place to stay, things like that. Somehow, he always guilts me into helping him and making me feel responsible for him. I do it to keep him away from me and partly because, even now, I feel like by saying no, that would be pushing him too far. So, the only thing I do is I try ignoring him when he calls, and money is automatically deposited into his account every month. That’s it.”
Tears fall, but I don’t bother wiping them away for her. “How mean?”
This is why I didn’t want to tell her. I knew that would end up being the focus, and if there is one thing I wish I could forget, it’s that. For some reason, Elizabeth reaches up to drag a finger from the top of my nose down to the tip.
“Never broke it playing hockey,” I answer quietly, hoping it’s too quiet for her to hear, but that would be impossible with her being so close.
The one arm she has around me squeezes tighter as she bursts into tears, pressing her face into my chest. Fuck. I don’t want her crying over what happened to me when I was a kid. It’s making my throat thicken and hurt worse when it’s already sore. I don’t want to think about it; I definitely don’t want her to think about it.
“Elizabeth, stop crying. I turned out okay, remember?”
“But it breaks my heart to know you went through it,” she cries.
I tilt my head back and cover my mouth with one hand as I cough. She hiccups as she looks at me when I’ve finished.
“Do you think it would’ve been different had your mom not died?”
“I don’t know. I try not to think about it because honestly, I think it would’ve been either her or both of us if she was still alive.” That pushes a few more tears out. “Please stop crying.”
“I hate him,” she blurts out.
“You and me both.” I kiss her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, and then her lips. “Last chance to ask questions.”
Elizabeth shakes her head. “I trust that you’ve told me enough. Thank you. Plus, I’m getting a headache and I can’t think of anything.”