SKYLAR
I parked my Mustang in one of the three spots left in the school parking lot and tried to focus on the positives: Friday. Date night.
Because the negatives were piling up.
Daddy hadn’t come out of his room last night or this morning. Cody hadn’t sent me a text in two days or even talked to me with more than a few grunts. And Zoe was pushing me to go on another group date with Blake, her and Chugger.
I grabbed my backpack, did a quick makeup check and barely slid into my seat before the first period bell rang.
Ms. Yarnell gave me “the look” and defeat ripped through my shoulders.
Great.
I blew a piece hair out of my face and faced the three boys at my table.
The sight of Cody’s disheveled brown hair made my heart ache. The guy was strikingly handsome and didn’t even know it. A tight gray t-shirt pulled against his chest under an unzipped hoodie. His clothing choices were simple, a complete contrast to the complexity of his personality. Cody had become my obsession, my fascination and my misery all at the same time.
“Hey,” I said with a longing I couldn’t hide.
Cody studied some non-existent spot on the table. “Morning.”
His flat, aloof tone worsened my foul mood.
Blake scooted his chair closer to mine. “Blue is definitely your color. You sure I can’t talk you into coming with me tonight?” He, too, was beautiful, but the appeal ended there. And even with our new “friends” talk, I didn’t want to be alone with him.
“Nope. Fridays are off limits. Sorry.”
Ms. Yarnell began her lecture and our conversation ceased.
Blake’s hot breath brushed my neck. “Saturday, then?” he whispered.
His closeness made me want to cringe, and I wondered if he’d always been this annoying and why I didn’t see it before. “Maybe another weekend?”
His hand brushed mine. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
Great. As far as blow-off lines go, that was the most ineffective one ever.
When the lecture ended, Cody passed the discussion sheet to Blake. “Your turn.”
Blake slid the paper between us. “Why don’t you help me with this today since you struggled last time.”
Chugger snickered, but didn’t say anything.
I looked up at Cody, and the frustration and confusion I’d felt all morning crushed me further. If emptiness could be an expression, Cody had mastered the art.
“Do what you want,” he said, avoiding eye contact with me.
Heat inched up my neck and into my cheeks. He was dismissing me…again. And worse, he practically gave Blake a green light to move closer.
The minutes dragged on forever, but finally the bell rang. I bolted. Needing space. Needing my dad. Needing Cody to stop being so frustrating.
Zoe watched as I furiously shoved books into my locker. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” My world has exploded and no one cares.
She flinched. “Okay, fine. Sorry I asked.” With a slam of her own locker, Zoe walked away.
Remorse seeped in. I was spewing my bad mood over everyone.
I ducked into a corner and pulled out my phone. My father’s voicemail answered.
“Hi, Daddy, I just wanted to say good morning. I missed seeing you. I hope you are feeling better. I’ll be home around four-thirty, and we can plan our night together. Nothing big. We can just lay around if that’s all you’re up for.” I let my hand fall to my side and refused to consider a life without him. He’d win. He had to.
The empty halls matched the hollowness in my heart, bringing tears past my dam of denial. I ran down the hall to the bathroom, locked myself in a stall, and buried my head in my knees.
I kept it there until I could breathe.
*
I stood outside my father’s bedroom and knocked lightly. “Daddy? I’m home.”
A loud bang like something was dropped and hushed voices were the only response. I knocked again, harder this time. “Daddy, are you okay?” I checked the knob. Locked. I smacked the wood with both hands. “Daddy. Let me in! Let me in!” I screamed as panic clawed up my spine.
The door opened, and I stepped back. Aunt Josephine. She slowly closed the door behind her and stood there like a guard at Buckingham Palace. “Skylar, your father is very sick. He’s not going to be up for anything tonight.”
Adrenaline pumped though my bloodstream. I wanted to hurt her, which should have made me feel guilty, but didn’t. “You’re always doing this. You’re always trying to keep us apart.” I pushed forward, but she gripped my shoulders, halting me.
“I’m not doing this. The cancer is. And you have to accept that things will not be what they used to be.”
I detangled myself from her hold. “You don’t think I know that? My entire life is different! I just want to make sure he’s okay.” I was so angry her face faded out and then came back into focus. My breath was broken and loud like a bull released from its pen.
She must have noticed because for a moment, she hesitated. I thought she might move and let me see my father. But instead her voice turned firmer. “I’m sorry, Skylar, but he doesn’t want you to see him like this.”
I flexed my hands, then squeezed them, hiding the way they trembled. He wanted her. Not me. Trusted her. Not me. And I knew my aunt well enough to know she’d fall dead before letting me pass. I darted back to my room and slammed the door. Throwing myself on the bed, I let all the rage come out, with loud, ugly sobs. Shoulders shaking, I curled into a ball. I tried to pray, tried to understand the cruelty of this test God was putting me through. I found no clarity. No relief.
Tears soon gave way to exhaustion, and I fell asleep only to be startled awake two hours later by a new text.
Cody: You okay? You seemed upset all day.
Me: I’m surprised you noticed, with ignoring me and all.
My snootiness should have made me feel better, but it didn’t. I set down the phone and walked into the bathroom to clean up. The skin around my eyes was red and puffy. The only mascara not smudged on my pillow was smeared across my face. I splashed cold water until my skin was clear and then returned to my phone. I was too tired to play games tonight.
Cody: I’m sorry. It wasn’t you. My head’s a mess right now.
Me: Yeah. Mine too.
Cody: Maybe this will help.
Seconds later, a new song appeared in our conversation. I played it, letting the electric guitar and powerful lyrics offer an escape.
Cody: Forgive me?
I wanted to stay mad at Cody, but I just didn’t have the energy for it, especially when he sent me songs that tore into my heart like a bulldozer. The air began to thin, the heavy burden getting lighter. I’d grown up around music. It was part of my culture, as essential as water. My father had instilled in me a love for the classics and a respect for any artist who could make a guitar sing. Then again, my father was considered one of the greatest guitar players in the world.
Me: Yes. But only because you know good music.
Cody: Years of isolation will do that to you.
Me: You? I doubt that.
Cody: So, what are you and your dad doing tonight?
Me: Change of plans. No date.
I didn’t say how much typing those words hurt. How betrayed I felt by my father’s unwillingness to let me be a part of his suffering.
Cody: I can stand in for your dad. Meet me at Veteran’s Park? It’s two blocks from school.
Me: I’ve seen it. I’m not in a great mood, though.
Cody: I’ll bring food…
A heartbeat of hope. A night alone with Cody. A chance to see the real him. To understand him. I already knew my answer.
Me: Are you trying to bribe me? Do you think I’m really that easily swayed?
Yes. Yes, I am.
Cody: They are seriously great burgers.
Me: Well, in that case, how can I refuse? But, no onions. I draw the line there.
Cody: Why? Expecting a good night kiss?
A parade of butterflies hit my stomach; my fingers froze over the keys.
Cody: j/k. See you in ten.
Me: ok.
The screen on my phone went dark.
I was really doing this.
I slipped on jeans and grabbed my favorite t-shirt from the closet. My hands twitched with nervous energy while I quickly touched-up my face.
The hall was silent now. Hollow.
My fist hovered at my father’s bedroom door. I wanted to knock, but my hand dropped along with my heart, and I settled for scribbling him a note in the kitchen.
Part of me knew I shouldn’t be leaving. Not only was it totally against his rules, but also what if Guardzilla went home and he needed me?
But something equally strong pulled me to the front door. To a possibility that in the midst of madness, normalcy did exist.
Glancing up toward his room one more time, I whispered, “I miss you, Daddy,” and shut the door behind me.