Used

Ezra

I had gotten the phone call right before we left for the party. It was Olivia. My father's wife. In other words, my step mother. We weren't necessarily close; with me being the child of her husband's love affair. She avoided me if it was possible but in a public setting she was nice.

"Ezra, it's your father. He was in a serious hit and run."

I didn't say anything. There wasn't much to be said. There was silence on both ends of the phone.

"Ezra?"
"Yes."
"Did you hear me? Your father is-"
"Dead. Yes-yes I heard." I clenched my jaw as Olivia mentioned the funeral and the will reading. Her voice faded in and out until I abruptly hung up on her. I'd apologize later.

The night felt like a blur, like I was invisible. Nokiah tried her best to include me but eventually gave up when I became unresponsive. She blended in with the crowd, drinking and laughing. Anytime a guy made a move on her she would turn around and point to me with a bright drunken smile on her face.

No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't bring myself to drink alcohol. I kept my cup full of only water, making sure to never leave it out of my sight. I kept my eye on Nokiah's alcohol intake until it became clear that she had had too much.

I didn't like seeing her this way; loose, easy, slurring her words. I didn't have the energy to fight her when she yelled at me. I wanted to go home, to be alone with her; but not like this. She needed to sober up. I needed her.

I watched the drunken look leave her eyes when I told her. I didn't know how hard those three words were. I never thought I'd have to say them. In my mind my father was immortal.

"Do you-you-"
"No. I don't want to talk about it. I just want to leave. Let's go."
Her fingers slipped into mine and she let me lead her towards the door. It felt like there was a sea of people. The sweaty bodies full of alcohol ticked me. I could feel the anger boil in my blood. The only thing that kept me from hitting someone was Nokiah's hand in mine.

It felt significantly smaller than usual, soft; dainty. It was like she was sending me calming energy to me. She kept stealing looks at me, like I was something to be afraid of.

Once we reached the car we sat in silence. Nokiah kept her eyes on her hands, not wanting to press the matter. It was one of the things I liked about her. She respected my space even though I knew she wanted to ask questions.

It made me wish I had told her things about my father before this. Before he...died. He wasn't all bad, there was good in him.

"It was a hit and run. The funeral's in two days."
Nokiah brightened up at the sound of my voice. Her mouthed formed an "oh" shape and she nodded.

"Will you come?" I made eye contact with her finally. She smiled and placed a hand over mine.

"Of course. I'll be there for you. Anything you need." She reached up and ran her hand through my hair, the feeling was soothing. I closed my eyes, tears stinging them.

I choked back a sob. The anger in my chest began rising, I wanted to hit something or someone. I was failing. I promised I would make Dorian pay for what he did to Nokiah. I promised to make myself someone my father would be proud of. Now Dorian was still free and my father was dead.

"It's okay, my love." Nokiah whispered from my side. Her fingers continued to work in my hair.

"He was my dad...he was a good man." I could hear the tears in my voice. I didn't like crying, not in front of people. Nokiah was my safe space; my comfort. I could be myself with her without the fear of being judged.

She wanted me. All of me, the good, the bad, and the incredibly ugly. It wasn't fair that I had kept so much from her, she deserved to know the kind of person I was. Behind the facade. Behind silence.