Say When

T H I R T Y - T H R E E

Music filled the space and ministered to my tortured heart. A deep cut R&B playlist streamed through my laptop in my room as I cleaned and packed.

I was heading over to Yuri's to spend the weekend. Prom was in seven days, three days after that was graduation, and the day after that Yuri was off to Portland for two weeks to celebrate his graduation with his mom and her family. It was going to be hectic, to say the least, so we wanted to spend some low-key time together. Also, tonight was my first day back at work since--what we now refer to as-- "the assault". I was excited. I wanted to reclaim more of my life.

I wiped off the top of my dresser with an old rag pulling a collection of dust along as I did. I'd definitely neglected my room over the past few weeks. I continued wiping down surfaces and singing lightly to the music.

The three hours I spent in school earlier in the day was smooth. The teachers had pretty much thrown in the towel with teaching for the year. Most of our senior days were filled with gab sessions about what was next in our lives; teachers tended to get nostalgic, reflecting on when they were our age. On the precipice of adulthood. We listened and chewed on their advice while helping them clean out the classrooms. I was here for it. Loving the slow smooth pace.

Two quick knocks on my door drew my attention. I was surprised to see my Father in the doorway. It was way too early for him to be home. I furrowed my eyebrows at the sight of him.

"Hey." He offered gently.

"Hi." I gave back. He lingered awkwardly. Shoved his hands in his pockets. Removed them. Put them back in again. I did the same thing when I was nervous. My hands became foreign objects that had no home or direction. I sympathized. But I didn't make it easy for him. I stayed silent.

"I- I promoted Jason. He's the Shop Foreman now." He told me. Surprise spread across my face. Jason started at my Dad's welding shop a month after he opened it ten years ago and had been his right-hand man since. But my Dad never promoted him-- still accompanied him on every job, and worked on every project. Jason knew the business like the back of his hands but my Dad still cradled it like a baby in his. Until now.

"Why now?" I pressed him. He looked down the hallway, probably checking to see if my Mom was within earshot. She wasn't. Sharon had taken her to a dance festival downtown. This was my mother now. Out and about. Barely in need of a nurse but keeping her for the company and friendship.

He stepped into the room a bit.

"When I came home a few weeks ago and you weren't here...and your mother wasn't here..." He shook his head at the thought, "It was terrifying. I couldn't stop thinking that if I was here..." He didn't finish the sentence.

My heart broke a little for him. I put the rag down on my desk and turned toward him.

"You can't be here all the time," I assured him. I felt a bit of guilt that he thought the attack was a result of his absence when in reality it was a result of Jax's presence in my life.

"No, but I can be here more. Your mother and I have gone through things and...a lot of that came down on you. It shouldn't be like that. I should've done better." My father's voice was quiet but sure. I remembered the conversation I had with my mother at the hospital. How his influence sent her on a trajectory that neither of them saw coming. His guilt spread out to the walls of my room and surrounded me.

Before, I didn't understand. I didn't know how it felt to make decisions and then wish like hell you could take them back. But now I did and it felt awful to know that he'd lived with this feeling multiplied ten times over through the better part of the last two decades. I crossed the room to meet him.