Revive Me (13 page)

“Right, I’ll act like I believe your story.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Just don’t say anything to anyone about seeing me, okay?”

He saluted me. “Gotcha. Are we still hanging out today?”

“You know it.” I was tired as hell, but there was no was I bailing on him. “I’ll be here around noon. Think about what you want to do.” I waved goodbye to him smiling, and he turned his attention back to the TV. I walked out of the front door and ducked behind the bushes until a few neighbors went inside before getting in my truck.

“Your father wants to see you,” my mom said when I walked through the back door and into the kitchen. She was sitting at the table, a coffee cup in her hand, and a magazine settled in front of her. She didn’t ask where I’d been this time. She was sober, so she didn’t give two shits. She only did when she was drinking. Man, why do people always tell me their true emotions when they’re wasted? “And I don’t even want to know where your shirt is.”

I yawned, grabbing a glass, and filling it up with orange juice. “Too bad I don’t want to see him. I’m not visiting him, Ma.”

The grip on her coffee cup tightened. “It’s important.”

“It’s always important. He should’ve thought about how badly he wanted to see his family before he did what he did. I have no sympathy for him, and I never will.”

“He’s your father.”

“Sometimes morals are thicker than blood.”

“That’s not true. You don’t have to agree with what he did, but he’s your family, and you need to support him. This isn’t a question, Dawson. It’s a demand. You still live under my roof, and you need to obey my rules. You will go see him.”

I slammed my hand down on the table. “The hell I will.”

“Oh, you will. Be there, tomorrow morning at ten. Don’t be late, or I’ll have your things packed, and you can stay somewhere else.”

“You need to get over that prick,” I mumbled, leaving the kitchen, and kicking my door shut. I punched the back of it before sticking my fist in my mouth to keep me from saying what I really wanted to tell her. I couldn’t believe she wanted me to go see him. I despised him. He was nothing but a loser, why the fuck did she love him? If I went, I couldn’t fake loving him. I couldn’t fake being nice to him. And that’s what she expected me to do.

“
Call of Duty
?” Derrick asked, jumping on the couch and grabbing a controller. We’d played ball for a few hours and then got pizza after I’d picked him up. Tessa was still in bed, and I told him not to wake her up. She was going to feel like shit today.

“Maybe later, I’m going to talk to Tessa,” I answered, grabbing the to-go box and heading up the stairs.

He laughed. “Okay, you can go
talk
to her.”

I snapped my fingers at him and pointed at him. “Not funny.”

“Hey, I’m not dumb. I know what you people do in high school.”

I shook my head, and knocked on her closed bedroom door. “Come in.” I twisted the doorknob to find her lying down in bed, her feet facing the headboard, and her head at the end of the bed as she watched the TV on the dresser in front of her.

“Brought you some pizza,” I said, holding up the warm box in my hand.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching for the box, opening it up and taking a large bite. “I’m starving.”

I sat down on the edge of her bed. “So have you talked to douchebag?” I asked casually.

She wiped cheese from the side of her face. “And by douchebag you mean?”

“Don’t play with me, you know exactly who I’m talking about.”

She focused on eating her pizza. “He called me earlier.”

“And you answered?”

She took a bite, wiped her mouth, and sighed heavily. “Yes.”

“Why?” I asked in shock. There was no way she could forgive that asshole for how he’d acted and the way he’d talked to her. She needed more than a guy who drank himself into oblivion and grabbed other girls’ asses to taunt her. “Were you too drunk to remember what happened last night?”

“He was drinking, and it hurt his feelings when I left with you. He told me you threatened him and said if he keeps talking to me you’d kick his ass.” She lifted up, tucking her knees under her ass, and set the box on the floor. “You can’t do that, Dawson. Can you understand how me leaving like that would hurt his feelings?” My mouth hung open as I waited for her to realize what she’d just said. This wasn’t happening. She couldn’t actually feel sorry for this asshole and believe his bullshit excuses. “I’d get mad if he did the same to me.”

“First of all, I think him grabbing other girls’ asses and practically dry humping them in front of you is worse than you leaving with a goddamned sober driver. I also didn’t threaten him to stay away from you. I simply told him if he hurt you I’d kick his ass. Don’t let him use the whole “I was drunk” excuse to feel sorry for him. That’s not okay.”

“I don’t want to argue with you about this, okay? Please just stay out of it.”

“You’re making a mistake,” I insisted. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

She groaned and tilted her head back. “I’m so sick of you trying to tell me what the hell to do. Why don’t you let me make my own decisions for once?”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Nothing,” she said, looking straight at me. “I haven’t forgiven him. So let’s just stop talking about it.”

“Fine, have it your way,” I muttered, pushing myself up from her bed. “But don’t think I won’t say I told you so when this shit happens again.”

Her voice lowered. “Maybe I need to see for myself. Maybe I need to make my own decisions and let someone else help me with my problems.”

I smacked my chest. “And why the hell can’t that be me? We’re friends, Tessa. I’m your friend who’s there for you and you’re running away from me and into his arms.”

“You can’t help me because you are the one who made me this way!” she screeched.

I stumbled back. “What?”

Her lower lip began to quiver. “If you would’ve just let me do what I wanted that day, I wouldn’t be going through this.”

“What are you trying to say?” I asked, my stomach cramping. “Please tell me you’re not pissed at me because I wouldn’t let you go out and get yourself killed. You think I would let you walk into a death trap?”

She shrugged. “I think you should’ve let me decide what I wanted.”

I ran my hands over my face in frustration. “You want to be dead? Is that what you’re telling me?”

She looked away from me and at the comforter on her bed. “Most of the time, yeah. I wish I was with him.”

What the fuck?
I walked the few steps to her and leaned down so our faces were directly across from each other. “If you’re feeling like that, you need to talk to someone. Drinking and partying with that guy isn’t going to help. You need to talk to your parents, and you need to go talk to a therapist or something.”

Her light blues eyes narrowed my way and almost turned to ice. “Just because I say I feel that way doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it. I just don’t feel good right now, and at times, yes, I wish I was with him.” I moved to sit back down beside her, but she stopped me. “I’m not in the mood. I’m rambling because I don’t feel good. I think it’s normal to feel like you want to be with them at times, and I just miss him today.”

“Babe,” I said softly, slowly rubbing my hand over her arm, but she pulled back.

Her eyes slammed shut. “Please, just go. I’m not in the mood, and you promised Derrick you’d hang out with him.”

I wanted to stay with her. I wanted her to confide in me. She didn’t want that unless she had all of me, and I couldn’t give her that.

“Okay,” I said. “If you need me, call.”

She looked away from me, and it felt like I’d been punched in the gut. She was no longer Tessa, and I wasn’t sure who the new one was or what the stranger across from me was thinking.

We’d moved to Indiana to be closer to my father, but it was still a forty-five minute drive to get to him. He was in the middle of nowhere, and my mom had to be able to get back and forth to her job without paying a fortune in gas. I’d only visited him three times in the five years he’d been there, and my mom had forced each miserable occasion.

I drove across railroad tracks, and the large, brooding building came into view. Two tall guard towers were in the middle of a barbwire-fenced yard that led away from the long, brick building. “I hate this damn place,” I muttered to myself as I pulled into the eerie parking lot.

I slid my phone into my pocket, got out of my truck, and headed toward the entrance. My mom had threatened to kick me out over him before, but I wasn’t sure if she’d actually go through with it. Deep down, I was scared to find out. The thought of her doing it made me physically ill, not because I’d be homeless, but because that meant she chose him over me. That would hurt more than anything.

I walked through the front entrance, landing in a frigid room, and noticed the place was empty except for two guards standing to the side, and a correctional officer sitting behind a desk. I stalked to the front counter, and the woman looked up at me.

“Driver’s license,” she said quickly. I pulled it out from my wallet and handed it over to her as I signed my name on the sheet in front of me. “You’re here early,” she commented, punching her fingers across the keyboard to the computer in front of her. I always came early to avoid waiting on rotations. The earlier I got in, the quicker I’d get out. She handed me back my driver’s license. “We’ll call for you when we’re ready.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled, pulling out two quarters from my pocket, and turned around to the row of lockers perched against the wall. I opened one up, listened to my loose change, phone, and keys rattle as they hit the metal, and slammed it shut. Taking a seat in a cold, plastic chair, I shut my eyes and took in a deep breath. He wanted something. I was sure of it. I was only summoned when he needed something from me. And I hated doing anything for this selfish asshole. I stared straight ahead, reading the poster of approved items to bring in with you, as people began to trickle in.

“Thomas,” an officer called out, and I lifted myself out of the chair. I walked up to him, stopping at a taped line, as he read off more names from a list and a line formed behind me. I grabbed a large, plastic container, slid my belt out from my jeans, and tossed it inside. Sliding my shoes off, I dumped those in and watched it streamline on the conveyer belt through an x-ray machine. I moved my sock-covered feet through the metal detector, and a guard was waiting to pat me down.

“Good to go,” he said, and I grabbed my belt and shoes. I was led into a smaller room as the people behind me began to crowd in. The automatic doors shut as the guard gave another “all clear.” The door on the opposite side opened, and I walked into a large room packed with inmates sitting at small tables, waiting anxiously. I led the line, walking to a counter in the front of the room, and telling them my name. A woman scanned the sheet in front of her and pointed to him. I turned around, my muscles tightening, and he had the nerve to smile and wave. Fucking asshole.

Fluorescent lights hummed and flickered above me as I made my way to him. I took in the pungent smell of bleach and what smelled like sewer water as I took each dreaded step. I watched people greeting their loved ones, giving them hugs, and some tears being shed. I didn’t want anything like that with him.

“Nice of you to finally visit your old man,” he greeted, standing up and slapping me on the back in a half-way-hug kind of way. I didn’t hug him back. I just took a step back, pulled out a chair and sat down.

“I’ve been busy,” I said. It had been a year since I’d seen him, but his age was beginning to take a toll on him. He’d cut off his long beard, now having just a small goatee. His blonde hair was shorter, his hairline beginning to recede, and pulled into a small ponytail in the back. Wrinkles crisscrossed each other like cracks along his face.

He rubbed his calloused hands across his goatee. “Your mom said you’ve been going through some shit. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ve been going through it for four months,” I bit out. I wasn’t buying the sympathy bullshit.

“I understand. I’ve tried getting you to come see me, but your mom keeps saying you’re busy. I’m glad you finally came.”