Joan

Chapter XLVIII

I don't know what to do, what to think, anything. Firstly, it's too late at night to be trying to swallow all of this. Secondly, although it's not the first time I've wanted to scream during this trip, it is the first time, in a long time, I've been this angry to the point of near tears.

Not only have I given away my ring, the one my dad entrusted me with, but now I've lost the advantage of the reed, the very thing I sacrificed my ring for. It's one giant fuck-you from the universe and I'm not feeling it.

But what's really digging at me is the biggest hurdle I've been avoiding this entire journey: the truth about my dad.

I'm not one who gets shaken easily, but since the moment I fell through the sky, everything about my parents has been shaky. I mean, look at it this way. Your parents are supposed to protect you from danger and hurt and stuff, and sometimes they lie a little to help prevent that, like lying about Santa being real or saying someone's on an extended vacation when they're actually in jail. But when they create a whole lie about their background and past, and yet at the same time preach to you about the importance of being truthful and forthright, it kinda flaws a person. I don't want to think about my dad like that, but what else am I supposed to think?

All those times of "Oh, Joan, don't do this because xyz" or here's a life lesson about morals and principles, they just seem so...hypocritical. And, God, I hate referencing Tymos, but he's right. How can I stand here and cherry pick the good from the bad when I've been told my whole life that your past doesn't define you yet it's part of who you are.

And on one hand, Tymos could still be playing games with me and making up these past events and lies about my dad, but there's just too much evidence to ignore now. From the way my parents never bring up his past, to how secretive and uneasy Elle and Olivos were about mentioning my dad, even to the- I'm forced to believe- genuine hurt and pain Tymos felt when reliving that scene about his sister's death, it's too overwhelming- and I'm dense, but not that dense.

Even though my parents have hidden all of this awfully well- a little too well- I can actually look back on one time, only once, when my dad gave a hint at a troubled past, but I, like the self-absorbed seven-year-old I was, didn't catch it. We were at the picnic table because I had done something stupid- it's hard to keep up with all my stupid shit so I don't remember what got me there, but I remember his words enough.

"You need to think about the impact you have now, Joan," He told me.

Of course, me being miss-live-in-the-moment just kinda shrugged it off, but he wasn't letting me get off that easy.

"You're going to regret the foolish things you do now. And you shouldn't live with regret."

"But why should I care?" I asked it in all earnestness (my sarcasm not yet honed enough at that age).

"Because regret tears you down, it's there the rest of your life and you're going to look back every single day and hate yourself for the things you've done."

I was a clueless child back then- even more so than now- and so he, at that point, had completely lost me. I don't remember what I did that day, but I didn't think it was enough for me to hate myself so I just casually replied with a shrug-