28. I don't care

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LUKAS

I didn't get dressed right away. I remained there, on the sofa, completely naked, contemplating on whether I should follow her or not. Last time we were in the shower together, it was crazy hot. But there's no reason to spoil what we just did.

I know what we just did. I didn't think about it while in the midst of it and it wasn't entirely intentional, but that wasn't like every other time.

I dropped my head back against the couch and exhaled loudly. I stayed away barely 2 days and it felt like a lot. But I needed the time on my own, to be sure she would not have a flashback of who I used to be, of who I do not want to be.

If I'm honest with myself, my high school self wasn't bad news solely because of how frivolous I was, how many girls I had sex with. That's the smallest thing. Despite the nickname they gave me, I wasn't dangerous, never have been – the rumors about me beating up people for looking at me sideways were lies.

At most, I beat up that little shit Jason when we were 13, and for a good reason. I may have gotten into a brawl or two, but nothing incredibly frightening as they made it look like. I was never dangerous, especially not for a woman, no. I would never ever lay a single hand on a woman, my mom taught me way better than that. But there's a lot behind the curtain, there's so much pain, so much grief I haven't given myself time to process. Learning about my father's little side piece brought it all back.

I stood up, and gathered Tara's clothes and mine, then went to put them into the washing machine. I don't want her to see that dark side. She would be scared. It's already so hard to breach through her barriers, I barely have one foot inside her restricted circle, if she is reminded of the person she saw in high school, we'll go back to square one.

I heaved a deep sigh as I started the washing machine's cycle. I don't want her to see me at my lowest either, though. I don't want her to see the little kid missing his mom.

When I felt silly tears prickling behind my eyes, I immediately headed to my bathroom, for a shower. How pathetic is it, for a man to cry like this? The last thing I want is for Tara to see that kind of vulnerability in me.

I try so hard not to think about my mom, it's a closed door that needs to remain that way. But then things like this sort of relationship or whatever it is between my father and her friend bring it all back.

I remember the times my mom would feel lonely because he never showed up. I remember her calling for him when she was almost gone and how hurt she was when he didn't come. He just didn't care about her the way he should have, the way she deserved, and for that, she died with a broken heart. I will never forgive him for that.

And now, I come to know that he's probably had a side piece all this time. Her best friend, no less. It opens a wound that had never actually healed to begin with. It turns resentment into hatred, and I feel conflicted because I know my mom wouldn't want that, but how can I not hate the man that made her last days on Earth so much worse? All he had to do was show up and he didn't. He never does.

According to my father, money is good enough, there's no need for real presence. His wife is sick? His answer is to get all the possible doctors that money can hire, yet never once go to an appointment, never hold her hand, comfort her. His son gets in trouble? His response is to throw his weight around, make sure no charge really sticks, appearing for a minute or two, then off again. He wasn't there when Angela died. He wasn't there when mom died. He wasn't there when I needed him the most.

Now he comes claiming a right over my life. You're my son, he says. As if that were enough of an excuse for him to meddle, enough of a reason for me to forgive the past. And now this thing with Danielle. If after eight years, he hasn't had the guts to even mention her, it's because he's not stupid, he knows I would never accept it. And how could I?

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