Chapter 15 ~ Tell Me Lies

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                When I was younger, and my mother used to take me to the park, sometimes she’d spin me on the merry-go-round. The old metal would squawk as she pushed and pushed, building enough momentum until she could hop on to enjoy the ride with me. The forceful whirl would cause my tummy to clench in fear of being flung off. It was thrilling, yet also a blast. 

This moment with my father feels as out of control as that merry-go-round. Except, the fear pulsing in my neck isn’t from excitement. Instead, the anxiety has me reaching for the door handle if I need to tuck and roll from a moving vehicle.

I glance in the side mirror and spot the rental car Moses and Julian are in. The turn was so abrupt that Moses is having difficulty maneuvering around the vehicles in front of them. 

They can’t lose me.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“The Conservatory of Flowers. Your mom and I used to go there in high school.” He flashes me a smile. “We’d wander around and make out.”

“Gross.”

“Nah, it was great,” he says with a chuckle, and there is genuine happiness in his expression.

It makes my heart ache and bleaches the fear as I massage the flesh of my chest where a pulse knocks. I miss my dad. I miss how things used to be before life took a battering ram and blasted open the door on his dark secrets. Tears amass in my eyes, so I focus on anything else, like the trees swaying in the autumn breeze. 

My dad finds a parking spot on the street, and in the side mirror, the rental car eases into a space half a block down. We exit and head for the Conservatory on foot. The day is beautiful despite everything, as the sun filters through the trees and the rustling leaves percussion against the wind. It’s a soothing susurrus as we climb the cement steps leading us to the main event like a red carpet. 

Once inside the massive white greenhouse, I’m strangled by the humidity allowing the tropical plants to thrive. There aren’t many people around, but the ones that are, fan themselves while gazing at gigantic stems of Climbing Oleander and Bottlebrush Orchids.

For a while, we browse the garden and take turns reading the descriptions on the bronze plaques in front of the different plants. However, it feels like my dad and I are in a wild-west duel, standing on opposite ends, waiting for the other person to pull the trigger. The dust swirling between us as we glare with hands palpating our weapons are my dads secrets, and the fact I know he’s a damn liar.

We move onto the ponds where lilies float on the surface of the turbid green water, and that’s when I pull the trigger.

“How come you never got remarried after mom died?” I ask nonchalantly while taking photos of the pond with my phone.

“Just didn’t have the heart to, I guess.”

“What about now?” I snap another photo. His lie is strike number two.

“No, I think dating crazy women has me too scared to remarry,” he chuckles. “I sure dodged a bullet with Miranda.”

Now that pisses me off. It’s strike number three. So, I stuff my phone into my pocket and face him. 

“Did you, though?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He crooks his brows.

“You’re still seeing her.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Dad…” I inhale and grip the railing enclosing the pond. “I saw you. She was there at the cabin with you.”

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