HIM
get to deal with that itchy stinging pain for a few days. I should know better, but my mind is not in the right place. I apply some soothing aloe vera gel to my red blotchy skin and wonder my way to my room. I gently ease a light t-shirt over my head and slip on some panties.I give Jason a call, and this time, he picks up on the first ring.
"Alicat!" he answers.
"Hey," I reply.
"What's up? How's it going? Are you back from the city?" he rambles.
I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge, scanning it for something quick and easy to eat.
"Yeah, I'm back. I just finished mowing my dad's yard," I say.
A little preoccupied trying to pull the miracle whip out of the back of the fridge while holding the phone with my shoulder and cheek as I balance the cheese, ham, and mustard in my other hand. It's quite a struggle, but I manage it just fine.
"How did it feel to be back in the city after two weeks of being home?" He strikes up a conversation.
"Interesting," I reply.
If only he knew the half of it. I'm sure he'd flip out and go looking for Brady. Thankfully, he changes the subject, although the change is just as, if not more upsetting.
"Next weekend is the fourth of July and-" Jason pauses right before finishing his sentence.
"It's your dad's birthday."
I put down the cheese, ham, and condiments I wrestled from the fridge. I walk over to the calendar hanging on the wall—Father's Day. Today is Father's Day. How could I have let this day, the first Father's Day, without my dad almost slip? Too caught up in my stupid drama, is how. God, I'm so fucking selfish. Even after he's dead, my life still trumps his.
"Ali?" Jason's voice rings in my ear.
"Yeah," I reply.
I release a few tears, disappointed in myself.
"Are you okay? I didn't mean to upset you at all," he says softly.
"No, you didn't. I'm fine, just very tired from the past few days," I lie.
Jason goes on to brag about how eventful of a weekend he had, as I go about making myself a sandwich. He mentions that he had the biggest turnout of people he's ever had at his house and that he's having another party this coming weekend-how I must be present. I drift off thinking about how shitty of a daughter I am.
My phone call with Jason ends, and I walk sluggishly into the living room with my sandwich in hand. I sit down on the couch, staring at the carpet. I take a small bite of my sandwich and chew almost in slow motion. I set my ham and cheese sandwich down on the armrest of the couch, as I lay down and curl myself up into a tiny ball. I rock back and forth, humming. I want to cry, but I just can't. I stare at nothing as every part of me becomes numb.
Chapter Seventy
My alarm chimes and I wake up looking around the dimmed light entering the living room at my dad's. The sun is just starting to rise, and the birds have begun their annoying morning chatters. I reset my alarm for forty-five minutes from now and curl back up in the blanket from the couch.
My alarm sounds again, which feels like five minutes later, and I want to hurl my phone across the room. I sit up on the couch, stretching my arms over my head, then rub the sleep from my eyes. I walk into the kitchen and toss a french vanilla cappuccino k-cup into the Keurig that I insisted my dad buy to keep up with the times. He made his coffee over the stove in an iron kettle. It was as thick as molasses and as dark as my soul.
I walk back into the living room as the water heats up. I sit back down and flick on the TV. I'm not in the mood or the right state of mind to go into the shop today. I don't think I could handle seeing Luke and have him ignore me. I check my phone, and there's still no message or call from him. It's a little after six, which is a little too early to call Maureen at the shop. She doesn't get there until around seven-thirty. I flip through the channels stopping on some stupid game show before I head back into the kitchen to finish up with my cappuccino. I stare out the dining room window as I wait for it to finish.
My phone buzzes. I rush to my phone, praying that it's a message from Luke.
Hey girl, how are you holding up? Have you heard from Luke yet?
A message from Ris reads.
We text back and forth for a good portion of the morning. I call Barrett and let him know that I will miss today's meetings as I am not set up yet. Then I give Maureen a call.
"Rob's Classic Restoration, Maureen speaking," she answers after the second ring.
"Good Morning, Maureen, it's Ali," I say kindly.
"Good Morning, Ali! Are you still in Milwaukee?" she asks in her sweet tone.
"No, I am back at my dad's, but not feeling well, so I won't be coming in today," I reply.
I can hear her fumbling through paperwork and chewing on something. It's probably just her usual morning muffin.
"Oh no, I hope you feel better. Please drink lots of fluids and rest, my dear," she mutters.
"Thank you so much! Have a great rest of your day," I mumble.
"You too, Ali," she says.
I almost hang up from our conversation before blurting out,
"Is Luke at the shop yet?" I ask in a shaky voice.
"No. He called in and took the entire week off," she answers.
He took the week off! Why would he take the week off? Is he that upset over finding out about what Brady did to me? He must be mad at me to not want to talk to me or even come