Chapter Twenty-Three

Tessa It was time to go home, I couldn’t wait to catch up with Mom, and I was thinking about telling her about my new life at college. I didn’t know how she would take it. Would she be proud that her little girl had grown up? Or would she be disgusted about the whore that Carter accused me of being, even if he didn’t know it was me? He’d called polygamous relationships nothing but porn, nothing but an excuse to have loads of sex.

I rode the bus, and I waved as I saw Mom standing and motioning for me.

Welcome Home, Tessa!

She had a sign-waving it in front of me, and I felt proud of the fact that she’d gone to so much trouble until I saw him. The man standing behind her. I realized that I’d hold my little confession, because I was going to have the best week ever, not only with Mom but with Dad too.

I waved crazily to them as I got off the bus, like a kid going home after summer camp. Happy that camp was over, and I got to kiss the one boy that I had a crush on and even happier to back home with Dad. After he left, Mom had this sadness, one that she never admitted to. She made out that things were ok, but she worked overtime and was soon promoted to Office Manager. A job that she wanted before their divorce, but never went after it.

I was so happy to see them together; I didn’t care if they were getting back together or not. During the time that I’d been spending with the guys I’d forgotten to call home more often than I did and seeing them together just made my heart sing.

“Both of you together?” I said as I ran into Mom’s arms and then Dad’s.

“Yes, just because we don’t live in the same house anymore, doesn’t mean that we can’t be friends,” Dad said as he kissed me on the forehead. Something that he used to do when I was little, and it gave me comfort like it was doing right now.

“You look different, Tessa. Did you decide to wear the clothes that Grandma got you for college?” She didn’t wait for me to answer, as she continued observing me. “Then again, even your hair's different too. You cut it right? It’s as if I haven’t seen you for three years, not three months,” Mom noticed.

I felt proud about my new look. I didn’t think that it was so apparent that I made changes, I planned to dye my hair blond too during the summer. Something that Grandma said to me kept going through my mind, blonds have more fun. And I wasn’t a blond yet, but I was having more fun, besides, I didn’t want to go crazy, not all at once.

I smiled. “Yep, I wanted a change. You like?”

She said, “I love. You look different. Happy even.”

I didn’t answer her, but she did hit a note. I was happy, and my changes were a reflection of how I was feeling at the moment as if I were all grown up, and I’d been a seed this whole time, and now I felt like a flower all blossomed and blooming.

“What do you feel like doing this week?” Mom asked as Dad released me, and we walked toward the car.

I hadn’t thought about what I would do once I got home, apart from giving my pussy some much-needed rest and some healing. I intended to have salt baths every night and no masturbating. No fucking way.

“Whatever you like. This is your week. I intend to catch up with you both. Dad, you have to tell me about your time in Nigeria, and Mom needs to tell me about her new promotion.” I smiled as I looked out of the window and we started to drive home. Mom was in the driver seat, and I couldn’t wait to get indoors to see my room and the house, which no doubt would be the same.

“Nigeria is a long story one that we can catch up on during the week...” he paused and looked out of the window.

I wondered what was on his mind.

He chirped, “But your mom’s promotion. Now, that’s some big news.” This surprised me because whenever he talked about his trips, he didn’t hesitate to share them. There was a change in him, as if he was quieter; from his beard that I’d never seen before in my life. He was always clean-shaven whenever he came home, and especially when he was on TV, even if he was in worn-torn Afghanistan, he still managed to look presentable, but not now. He was wearing a T-shirt, and I didn’t even know that he owned one. Normally, he would wear a polo or even a shirt. Who was this man? Was he really Dad under all that hair?

“Well, I’m no longer Office Manager, but now Project Manager at the moment,” she proudly said, and I couldn’t believe how far she’d gone in a short space of time.

“Wow, so soon. That’s great, Mom.”

She shook her head as she turned a corner. “It wasn’t straight away, Tessa. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure that it would happen."

It made sense. I smiled and repeated, “That’s great, Mom. Well done, I’m so proud of you.”

She was making a name for herself, and I didn’t blame her. After all, Dad and her weren’t together anymore. She’d stayed at home while I was growing up, and now she was making the most of it. She was doing what she wanted to do, and I felt good knowing that not only was my dad successful, but my mom was too.

***

As soon as we got in after I’d looked around my room and saw the same walls that used to stare at me only just over a year ago. Somehow that time gap seemed so much bigger, considering when I left, I was in high school going to college, and now that I was in college, it felt like my second home, which felt weird because here was the only home that I knew all my life.

“So, do you feel like making bread and pies together?” Mom asked as she hung at my door. 

She smiled at me, and it said a thousand words. I knew what she was thinking. That I was in my room, and it was like the old days. I felt that seeing her and Dad together; I wanted to ask how come the two people that couldn’t stand to be in the same room together, were now sitting and talking like they were best of friends. 

Did I need to leave home, for them to become friends?

Or did something happen to Dad, and that was why he was here? 

There were so many questions in my head, but as night turned to day and day turned to night, I figured that the questions were better off staying in my head. I didn’t care, why he was here, or how come they were together again, even if they were just friends. It was nice, and it reminded me of a time before the divorce, and for some crazy reason, I’d spent the last few weeks working on losing my virginity and being a woman that it felt nice to be a kid again. 

We’d spent the evenings watching movies together, and talking, or playing board games. They were both happier than I’d seen them in a long time, and at times, I could have won, and the game could have ended, but I didn’t want our time together to end. Especially when it came to Scrabble, I’d dreamed of beating Dad time and time again. I had the one chance, the one time I could have won, but I didn’t. I did something better by letting Mom win. Dad insisted on us playing again just so that he could win. He decided that we must have a rematch, something that I refused to do, and Mom too. 

“I won, get over it!” she said to Dad, but then when she won she came up with the words, “I won, in your face! Two journalists in the house and I won!” It was good, seeing her so excited about winning and Dad so sore for loosing.

The day before Thanksgiving Mom had wanted Dad to put a Christmas tree up, but he told her a new one would have too much dirt and pollen, and a fake one would collect dust, so I went out in their car and found her a ceramic one, one of those tacky old ones with plastic lights, and brought it home to her. Dad could dust that with no problem. 

“There, one happy little Christmas tree,” I announced as I pulled it out of the paper bag, I’d carried it home in. 

“Oh, Tessa! It’s so…tacky!” Mom said with eyes filled with tears.

“I know, but isn’t it awesome? I can put a new set of LED lights in the bottom, and it will even light up.” 

“Baby, you are so thoughtful, thank you.” Mom hugged me as tight as she could manage and then turned to my dad. “How did I get so lucky to have you?” 

“I don’t know, but she’s one special girl, I know that. And so are you, so you deserve it.” 

“Thank you.” Mom kissed his cheek and then sat down on the couch, the tree, no higher than eighteen inches on the coffee table in front of her. She threw a red chenille blanket over her lap and smiled as she looked at the tree. “I love it.” 

“Good.” I was pleased she liked it. That’s all I wanted to make her happy. 

Now, the tree was lit up on the dining room table, and we all ate together, happy to be with each other as we looked at that awful ceramic Christmas tree. “Didn’t Gran have one of those?” 

Something about it niggled at my memory, and I finally remembered seeing one on a massive desk, my mom’s mother used to have in her kitchen.

“She did, I’m surprised you remember,” Mom said and looked at the tree with a special smile that told me how pleased she was. “It’s another reason I’m so happy you found it; my mom had one.” 

“Aw, I’m glad I did something good then.” I didn’t want her to be sad, but she didn’t look worried, just a little nostalgic. She’d lost her mom a few years ago, a jet plane crash that had been a massive tragedy as it took over two hundred lives. Then, I remembered that Dad’s mom, Grandma, had died in a hit and run accident too. It was as if both my grandma’s were killed, and both my granddad’s died of natural causes. Now, my parents were all I had seeing as they were both only children, and I intended to enjoy them this Thanksgiving, and I hoped that it would be extended to Christmas too, but I didn’t want to push my luck.

“You did, honey.” 

It was later after we’d cleaned up, and Mom and Dad had gone to their bedroom for a nap when I heard my phone buzz. 

I looked at the caller ID and realized that it was Carlos calling, “Hey, you okay, Tessa?”

I smiled. “Sure. I'm good. You okay?”

“Dad came. He spoke to me, actually said words, sentences. Entire sentences. I’m shocked.” 

“Oh, wow. Maybe you did wake him up?” I was pleased and couldn’t stop smiling, even if he couldn’t see me. 

“I hope so. Ana wanted to do all of the cooking, but I wouldn’t let her. Dad, well, he just talked and talked and talked.” 

“About what?” I wanted to keep him talking; he seemed so excited about it, I wanted him to enjoy the moment.

“About what he’d do after I earned my degree, how he’d help me get started, what we could do together if I wanted. All kinds of stuff. But mainly, he talked about how badly he’d treated me as a dad, how he hadn’t been there but would be from now on.” 

“I hope he will be,” I replied, and I meant it. Every child needs their dad. Unless they were a shitty dad, then not so much. 

“Me too, Tessa. I’m blown away, I am.” 

“I’m glad for you, Carlos, that’s so great.” 

“How was your day? I should have asked, sorry.” 

“Don’t be, that was big news. It was good. I found my mom a ceramic Christmas tree, like one her mom used to have, and she’s looked at it all day. I think it’s made her a little sad since Gran died in a plane crash a few years ago. But she was happy too, you know?” 

“Good, we’ve both had good days then. I’m glad. I have a mountain of dishes to wash, so I’m going to go for now, but I’ll be back later.” 

“Have fun with that." I laughed. 

All of my men had texted me throughout the day, it was a holiday, so I didn’t mind. I’d texted Kim and Cheryl too. Kim was on a yacht somewhere on the lake but still managed to have a connection. Cheryl was miserable at home but eager to get back to school. She hated being home, and I hated that for her. She missed the freedom she had at school. We’d be back soon enough.

Too soon, I realized, as the hours passed, and Mom and Dad continued to sleep. I was about to check on them when Dad came out. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned. 

“Nothing, just tired,” he told me to sit back down as he grabbed a glass of water. “Thanks for getting her that tree, by the way. I’d have never thought of that in a million years. It’s made her so happy.” 

“It was my pleasure, Dad. I’d do anything for her.” I hesitated, saying anything more because I’d been toying with asking him about his new Moses look, but I didn’t want to know if it was terrible news that I would be hearing or good news. I had a feeling that it would be bad news, something that I didn’t want to hear. I didn’t want the nice time that we were having to come to an end.

“I know that, and so does she, honey. You’re a good daughter.” He kissed the top of my head and then went back to the bedroom. 

“Dad?”

He rose his eyebrow, so I just spat out what was on my mind. I struggled with how to express exactly what I was thinking because I hadn’t organized it properly in my mind. It was questions that were rolling around in my head, and sometimes, thinking was my nemesis, the thing that sometimes drove me insane.

“How come you’ve got a beard? You've never grown one, you’ve always been clean-shaven from when I was so young.”

He smiled as he sat, facing me. “Vanity. It doesn’t seem so important anymore.”

I felt that he was talking in riddles, and part of me hated him for not coming out and answering my question properly.

“Uh?”

He laughed. “I’ve been all over the world, you know that.”

I nodded. 

“And I’ve seen so many things. Bad things. Things that I would hate for you to see in your lifetime, but if you want to follow in my footsteps; then I hope that you don’t want to be a special correspondent — the type of journalism that I’ve cursed myself into. But I’ve seen so many dark things, things so dark that…well put it this way. I’m taking a break. I’m proud of your mom for finding her foot in life and not worrying about her goals and aspirations. If anything mine's the complete opposite, I’m thinking of taking a real break, and you never know, I might even become a sports writer.”

I threw my hands up in the air. “Sports? Is that the only thing that people are willing to read these days?” 

He laughed. “It’s not about that. I’m sick of seeing blood, death, and God that humanity is lost. Your mom sensed that there was something wrong with me, and she offered for me to spend Thanksgiving with you. I thought that you would be pleased?”

I said, “Dad, you’re kidding me. This is the best Thanksgiving that I’ve had in forever. Dad, have you forgotten the divorce? Because I sure the hell haven’t. You and Mom couldn’t even be in the same room. Mom wanted you to stay, she wanted us to be a family, and you wanted to be a special correspondent. Nothing could stop you being the best in your field, even your own family.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“I don’t want you to feel guilty. I just want you to know that I’m happy that we’re all spending Thanksgiving together and hopefully Christmas too. I mean, I came home thinking that the best I would get from you would be a phone call. I didn’t expect us to be playing board games or having you cook. No way! This has been the best trip home, and I love seeing that Mom’s so happy and you too. Even with the beard. I’m going to have to get used to that.”

“I need to catch up on about eight years of sleep,” he said as he kissed me on the forehead. I wanted to cherish this talk, something that Dad and I had always done so quickly, but after the divorce, it was difficult. He felt guilty about leaving and was stressed about his career, and I just wanted to be his little girl. 

I wasn’t that anymore, but he was still my dad, and I watched him walk up to the guest room, thinking that he had aged so much since I’d last saw him. He was slower in his movements, and I wondered if he ever suffered some of the abuse that he had witnessed, but then I didn’t want to know. As Dad had just pointed out, sometimes ignorance was a bliss.

I stayed in the living room watching Netflix with the sound down and the subtitles on so the noise wouldn’t disturb Mom and Dad.

Carlos texted me, and we talked for an hour before I went to bed. I found an audiobook, turned the sound down low on my phone, and let the soothing voice carry me along. I was relieved that I’d had a quiet day, a day without sex, even if my brain craved it. I’d like to find out what sex with Carlos was like. I kept thinking about it. 

I’d seen the muscles of his body in his tight black sweater last Thursday and knew he was as fit as the other guys in my life. Sex with him would be fun, I thought. I figured that’s where he’d finally let some of that control of his slip. It would be intense, hot, sweaty sex, I just knew it. 

I hadn’t had sex in over a week now, which meant that my trip back home was coming to a dramatic end. My body wasn’t sore anymore. I decided that when I got back, I’d ask him to take me home on our next date. I’d have to discourage the other men so that I could handle having sex with another guy, even if we hadn’t seen each other in a week. They’d respect my wishes; I knew that. 

They’d have to, or that would be the end of it, anyway. 

That made me giggle softly, despite the audiobook that I’d forgotten to listen to by now. I tried to pay attention, but I couldn’t. All I could think about tonight was Carlos. I fell asleep, at last, and when I opened my eyes the next morning, the first thing I thought about was Carlos, my secret fantasy of his body and his touch resulted in making me come, but then as I woke up, I found myself frustrated again. I had to focus and stop worrying about being at college and focus on being here. But it was hard. 

I used the bathroom, then went out to find both of my parents at the breakfast table. “You’re okay?” 

I smiled. “Sure, I’m okay. I just thought…nevermind.” 

Dad laughed. “Teenagers. Or maybe it’s that article you’re writing. You never told me what it was about.”

Fuck! 

All of a sudden, I lost my appetite. “Dad, I need to go to the bathroom.”

“You’re going back to school Sunday evening?” Dad asked as he placed the pancakes in my face.

He knew that I didn’t want to talk about my article, and it was too early to confess in the morning and besides I didn’t feel comfortable about acknowledging about being the Carrie Bradshaw of CU which meant that there was no way I was ready to admit it to my parents, especially over breakfast. 

I sat back down, the thought of the pancakes going cold made me sit back down, I placed a couple of pancakes on my plate and Mom handed me the maple syrup. “Yeah, I’ll take the bus.” 

“I’ll drop you off,” Dad said and winked at me. 

“Thanks, Dad.” I knew he would, but I didn’t want him to. Then again, maybe I would confess to Dad what I was writing and see how he would react to it. Would he be disgusted, or would he be proud? He’d changed, he seemed more relaxed, and I wondered if our relationship could be even more reliable now. 

“My pleasure. Eat up.” 

We spent the rest of the day on the couch while Dad worked in his old office. Mom liked sewing programs, so we watched something about British sewers trying to win a contest. I was surprised, but it kept my attention, and I was unfortunate when my favorite sewer was booted from the show. I almost stopped watching because I didn’t like the other three sewers, but Mom laughed at my pout, so I stayed with her so that she could snicker at my bitter comments about the other women. 

“I can’t believe you’re so into this,” she said and looked at me with amusement. “You hate sewing. Remember, when I tried to teach you when you were thirteen?” 

“I sewed the webbing between my thumb and finger, Mom,” I protested and looked. I still had a scar from the line of stitching, faint now, but still there, on my left hand. 

“I didn’t know you’d keep pushing your hand under the needle, did I?” She snickered with amusement, and I frowned at her, shocked at her enjoyment of my pain. 

“You are evil, Mom.” I frowned with my left eyebrow lifted and sniffed. “Some mother you are.” 

“It was terrifying at the time, but I can laugh now, Tessa. Why didn’t you move your hand? You could see the needle was coming at you.” 

“I was frozen, Mom, I couldn’t move.” I relived that moment, the horror as the needle came closer, and my leg froze so I couldn’t move it off the peddle or move my hand away. “I just froze.” 

“My poor baby, I shouldn’t laugh, but it was funny, now that I think about it.” 

I finally laughed, because yeah, it was stupid of me not to move my hand away. She had a point. 

A couple of hours later, Dad found us in the living room, singing along to a singer that we’d only recently discovered. To say that neither of us could carry a tune in a bucket would be kind, but we were there on the couch, couch dancing, singing along with each other at the top of our lungs. 

He tried to sneak out and back in with his camera phone, but I saw him. Instead of stopping, though, I just grinned at him and sang louder. Mom leaned into me when she saw what Dad was doing and sang louder with me. We didn’t care, we were having fun together, and knew we had to take these moments when we could. 

“I think the neighbors might have sent the police around on you two, but I can’t be sure. I can’t hear anything now. I’m deaf.” It was a family joke that Mom and I couldn’t sing, and Dad’s deaf comment was one he’d often made. 

“You’re just jealous you can’t sing that high,” Mom told him.

I nodded in agreement. “Yep. Jealous, that’s it. You’re just jealous. Pure and simple.” 

“Oh, believe me, I’m not. I’d have to be castrated to sing like that. Maybe even castrated while singing.” 

We all laughed at that one. 

“You’ll miss it when I’m back at school,” I reminded him.

He nodded. “You’re right. We’ll both miss you.” 

“It won’t be long. I’ll be back for Christmas. Not long at all.” 

“I know. And we’ll both be here waiting for you.” Mom hugged me close when she made the promise.

I just hoped she was able to keep it. “I can’t wait,” I said and hugged her back. “Don’t make me cry, Mom. Dad still has the camera on.” 

“Oh, turn that off,” she protested, and he finally did. But not before he caught the entire moment. I just hoped we never had to watch it without her.