Limerence

64 | l e s s o n

I'VE BEEN IN THE SHOWER for twenty-minutes trying to rid myself of evidence. The hospital isn't far from our neighborhood. Dad will be able to tell that I was high just from looking at me, so I hope that an extensive shower is enough to wash away my guilt. Once I'm out, I stash my Juul in Chris' old room behind the dresser he didn't take when he moved out. With all that done, I sit in the kitchen at the marble-top island just as Dad's keys jingle in the front door. He steps inside in a heap of snow and layers of winter garb. "Jesus," he hisses and kicks his boots off on the entry mat. "It's about to be another blizzard out there."

"Hey, Dad." My throat is raspy and lifeless, so I clear it and try to sit higher than my spirits.

He doesn't respond, just eyes me with dark, impossible eyes. Is he disappointed? Disgusted? Does he hate my guts? I can't tell from his set jaw and blank canvas of an expression. Yet as he discards his coat and gloves, there's a certain stiffness to him.

Nausea twists in my stomach and I resist the urge to puke. I hate myself. I hate myself so much.

Pepper's russet eyes. Amber's lucid blue. The darkness in Mason's. Now my own father's hazel gaze. Each of them are filled with hatred and disgust.

They all hate me. I have no one.

I'm absolutely alone.

That's when reality breaks into my dystopia and I start to cry.

I don't mean to. Avoiding this action has been my sole desire these past two weeks. I don't deserve to feel sorry for myself, but the regret is too immense for my body to carry. It's the size of a mountain and my frame is shriveled and decrepit. I bow my head and cover my eyes as if that can conceal my shame and weakness. How can I show them how sorry I am?

Nothing prepares me for the warmth of my father's arms as he embraces me. It's a sensation that I never expected to feel again. I hiccup and continue to sob but lean into him because there's absolutely nothing left in this universe to lean on. Relief submerges me into its rivers at his voluntary connection with me. Despite what I told him, he can still bring it upon himself to comfort me.

Maybe he still loves me.

"I-I fucked up, Dad. I fucked up so bad."

"Tell me what happened." His deep voice attempts to soothe my pain and lend me the strength that I am no longer able to siphon for myself.

There's no hesitation. The story spills from my lips and taints the air as I tell him everything. How Mason broke up with Pepper because of his parents. I tell him about sleeping with Pepper afterward and convincing her to be more than friends. When I was afraid to lose Amber as an option and how stupid I was for trying to keep both girls at once. I tell him about the first time Pepper rejected me, but I still convinced her to be with me. How stupid I was not to notice the signs back then. It hurts as I recall how Amber chose to help me and be my friend despite how I using her. I tell him how Pepper told my multiple times that she didn't want to be with me, but I was so stubborn and blamed her misery on Mason. The story ends the night of the dance.