Caleb.
Ty waves his hand in front of my face. “You never lose focus. What’s going on, man?”
We’re at our condo. Mom decorated it for us. Black leather couches and gray-washed wood coffee and end tables. Industrial design style. No fuss, and what she deemed strong enough to withstand the abuse expected from men our age.
We’re on the couch. Sports Center drones on the television in the background. Ty might have asked me the same question a couple of times. I’m not paying attention. “Brain fade.”
“What’s with the thousand-yard stare?”
I should get out of my head and concentrate. We don’t spend much time together. His advice is solid. “There’s a girl in my math class. She’s a problem I’d like to solve.”
“Problem, as in another fan girl drooling on your textbook?”
“The opposite. I’m invisible.”
“Not possible.” He slaps his hand on the cushion. “A girl capable of ignoring your charm? We’re talking about the same statistical odds of discovering a unicorn in your backyard.” Ty’s eyes crinkle and a grin stretches across his face. “Want to tell me about her while we grab pizza across the street?”
I’m hungry, and Tony & Alba’s make excellent pizza. If we don’t head out to grab chow, Ty will hide out in his room. He hasn’t socialized since his parents threw him out.
When we first moved in, Mom made a deal with Ty for rent. They fought an epic battle. He argued to pay, and she agreed to a nominal amount. He balked. Mom kissed him on his forehead and said, “Let me do this for you, kiddo. I need to help.”
He folded after that. I left them alone, and he never told me what they talked about. Mom’s amazing. I’m lucky she’s nothing like Ty’s parents. We both are.
“Mom said she might stop by later tonight.”
“It’ll be good to see her.”
I glance at my phone. “Yeah, but we still have time to eat.”
I’ll get his take about fantasy girl, who wants nothing to do with anyone capable of having an erection. Thinking about her tightens the muscles in my belly. “Let me grab a shower first. I had to do another round of conditioning after calculus today and I stink.”
I walk toward my room. The doorbell rings. I glance at Ty. “If that’s Mom, let her know I’ll be out in ten.”
I’m almost to my bedroom when Dad’s voice hamstrings me. Fuck. I don’t want to see his face or listen to him talk. No way to push to voice mail when the caller is at your door. I won’t ignore him and force Ty to deal with Dad, so I change direction. Not Ty’s fight. It’s mine.
I meet them at the door. “Ty, head over and put our order in. I’ll be right behind you.”
Ty’s face has gone blank, devoid of expression. “Yeah, sure.” He opens the door wide. “Excuse me, Mr. St. John. I’ll get out of your way.”
I grab the door and wait until Ty’s footsteps hit the stairwell. I don’t invite Dad inside. He doesn’t deserve a minute of my fucking time or one word from me. He’ll want to spin what happened and make me forget. Not happening.
“May I come in?”
Not in my lifetime. “Nope.”
“I want to make sure you have everything you need for school. Check in with your mom. Offer my help—”
“We’re good. We don’t need anything from you. Ever again.” I start to close the door.
He slaps his hand on the wood to keep it open. His jaw clenches. “Don’t do this, Caleb.”
He acts as though I’m to blame. Fuck that and fuck him. I should keep my mouth shut, but I’m compelled to throw his actions back in his face. End this now. “Am I supposed to pretend it didn’t happen?”
“Son, I regret the stuff that happened over summer. The hurt I caused. Your mom moving out…”
Our family has blown apart because Dad had sex with my girlfriend. This man was once my hero. I wanted to be exactly like him. We spent countless hours together throwing the football and running routes.
“You regret…” Now he mourns the consequences of his actions? Acid burns deep in my stomach. He hurt Mom and me without a thought. Standing a yard away from him makes me want to puke. He needs to go. There’s nothing left to say, and I don’t want to listen to his excuses. “Why are you here?”
“Your mom served me with a petition for divorce today. I need to talk to her. Where is she?”
I move to shut the door again, but he pushes his way into the condo, knocking into my shoulder as he passes. Dad looks around like Mom routinely hides behind the couch.
He uses his “dad” voice. The one that establishes rules and doles out punishment. I almost respond to the biological imperative and lifelong conditioning. But we’ve turned a corner. Hit an impasse. His tone no longer forces my compliance.
“Mom doesn’t live here. If she hasn’t told you where she lives, she doesn’t want you to know.”
“I want to go to couples’ counseling with your mom and as a family, too. Whatever it takes to fix this and move forward.”
I ignore his pleading tone. I never thought I’d see this day. Last year on their twenty-first anniversary, they joked their relationship was old enough to drink and gamble. My hands tremble with adrenaline. I resist the urge to use my fists. I need him gone.
“Therapy won’t help. Do us all a favor and sign the papers.”
He takes a step closer to me. His face is inches from mine. “Tell me where to find your mother and go join Ty. She and I will meet you back here after you eat.”
Unbelievable. He’s living in a dream world. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Don’t block me. I need to talk sense into her. I don’t want a divorce.”
I move two steps away from him. Not backward in retreat. For space. He cheated on us. I want to scream, and the effort to hold it back makes my ears throb with pressure. “Funny way to show it by shoving your cock into my girlfriend’s mouth.”
He takes a step back. “There’s no reason for that kind of language. I made a mistake. I didn’t mean for that to happen with Dana. One minute we’re discussing my calendar, and the next… Son, you have no idea how sorry I am for disappointing you.”
“Disappointing me? You act like you forgot my birthday! You had sex with my girlfriend. What part of unforgivable do you not understand?”
He yells, “We didn’t have sex. I never touched her.” His voice is hoarse, and his face is colorless.
Dana sucked his dick, and he doesn’t believe he earned the participation trophy? The monumental lie crushes my chest like I’ve hit the upright at a full run without pads. This man taught me to own up to my mistakes. Now he denies fault? One more moral foundation destroyed for convenience. I push the words beyond the pain of another betrayal.
“Did you convince yourself she did all the work so you’re the victim?”
“Son. Don’t do this.” He rubs his chest. “Words leave scars. I taught you that.”
“And actions speak louder than words. You taught me that, too.” I’m seconds from beating my head against the wall. He looks disoriented, as though coming here was an act of desperation.
Dad says, “No matter what you think, I love you both more than anything in my life.”
His words grab my heart and squeeze it like a fist. A small part of me remains in denial. I long for a mulligan, a do-over. I want to erase what he did and be the family we were before the destruction. But that’s impossible. “Your words mean nothing. I grew up wanting to be just like you. You were my role model.”
He lifts his right hand, a signal to stop. “Knock it off. I understand you’re pissed, but I only have so much patience.”
“You still don’t get it. You betrayed me. Us.”
Dad closes the distance between us and reaches for me. “I’m sorry I compromised your trust, and I realize you still need time to heal.”
I veer sideways to avoid his touch. His words hit me like a bare-knuckle punch to my throat, and I spin back to close the distance between us. Get up in his grill. “Time to heal? You think that’s possible after what you did? You think I’ll forget you’re a dirty, fucking manwhore?”
He balls his hands into fists. The thought he might hit me for the first time in my life crosses my mind. Fine. Bring it, old man. The idea of punching him in the face feeds my need to hurt him back. I. Want. It. Bad.
He opens his fists and wipes his hands on his jeans. I take a shallow breath because I want to take the swing. But something deep inside me recognizes this is the man who raised me, and my knees weaken with relief we didn’t go there. Even though he hasn’t touched me, I feel like we’ve gone a couple of rounds. This conversation is toxic.
“Caleb, I’m not here to fight with you. I need to fix things with your mom.”
“Mom has the right to expect decency and respect from you. You lost. Scoreboard’s switched off.”
“Please.” His eyes go wet. Shiny. “Stop.”
Why can’t I rewind the evening and leave the condo twenty minutes earlier?
He inhales like he’s going to let me have it. Then he shakes his head as though he changed his mind.
I wipe my wrist across my mouth. “Get out of my sight. I’ll never forgive you.” The unthinkable becomes reality when I tell him: “You’re dead to me.”