Losing Grip

Chapter 26➷ I'm Too Old to Hold a Grudge

The next day, Dad met with my mother over lunch. And as normal of an activity as it seemed for people who used to be best friends, the way she left him heartbroken and alone made me wary of any contact between them.

When he came back, I anxiously watched all his moves, but he didn't give anything away. He didn't seem to share my frustration over her return and I didn't know how to interpret it.

I didn't want to ask about it either even though I yearned for explanations. I couldn't help but glance up at him from time to time as we ate dinner which made for a pretty awkward atmosphere. His eyes occasionally met mine and he shook his head, amused as if he knew.

"How are you doing, Avery?" he asked finally.

"Quite well. You?"

He seemed to notice the actual meaning behind my question but he did not acknowledge it.

"Good," he simply answered. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"No." Then I sighed and it came out. "Why are you so okay with Mom coming back? It's like just another day for you."

"How do you want me to react?" he asked, slowly.

"I don't know." I did know, but I couldn't tell him that. I wanted him to feel angry so that I could rationalize my feelings. I wanted him to feel just as resentful as I did, but he was too much like Riley to dwell on these negative feelings.

I knew exactly how she would react if she were here. I could hear her voice so clearly in my head, as if she really was in there, peeking over my shoulder, and hanging on every word I said.

"That's insane! She's really back. Aren't you curious why she came back?"

I would probably ignore her in response but as usual, that wouldn't stop her.

"Stop acting," she would add, squinting her eyes at my indifference. "You know you want to know." It was as if she were at the table with Dad and me, nodding at his comments and laughing at my reactions, and maintaining the harmony between us with her mere presence. "Do you think she wants to connect with us?"

Us. The word snapped me out of my fantasy because there was no more us. All that was left of us vanished with her like the words on the sticky notes we posted on her wood panel.

"I'm too old to hold a grudge," Dad said and the corner of his eyes wrinkled with an affectionate smile.

For the first time in a while, I noticed that he was indeed aging. Even though he was just about to turn 48, he seemed to be in his sixties. Wrinkles surrounded his permanently-exhausted eyes and his once-glorious hair was receding, reduced to disheveled graying strands.

"I don't want to spend the rest of my life blaming her for leaving. Besides, Becky and I had a good time chatting earlier."

The nickname awoke a bitter feeling in the pit of my stomach that I didn't know I still harbored.

"You know, she wants to talk to you," Dad said and his words sounded cautious like he knew he was navigating slippery roads.

I fiddled with the fork in my hand, desperate for any sort of distraction. I didn't want to see my mother again. I was too afraid she would be able to read pain on my face instead of hostility and grief instead of resentment.

As long as I stayed away from her, I could hold on to the spitefulness that anchored me to the ground and prevented me from floating away from emptiness.

"She's seventeen years too late," I replied and Dad nodded.

He didn't insist, just like I expected. I knew he understood my reluctance to see her, but just like Arson, he probably saw more pros than cons.