Chapter 36

I don't recall coming to this place
but though I'm gone, I can still see

~Nathaniel's Lyric Journal

I woke up alone in my bed this morning.

I shifted my head to see indents across my bedsheets, the only piece of evidence that someone else besides me was in my room that night. I stifled a yawn and reached for my phone that had a few text messages from friends in New York and one from Elise.

Elise: i left in the middle of the night b/c I didnt want my dad to notice that I was gone. you fell asleep on me and you looked so peaceful I didnt want to wake u up. I left thru the backdoor so its not locked. i enjoyed seeing you last night. seeing u always make me happy.

A grin grew on my face.

Me: Same with you

She did not respond much okay throughout the day, until I got another text from her a couple of hours later.

Elise: Just to let you know that I'm okay. I just don't want to use my phone a lot and make him suspicious.

I smiled at her courteous text and responded.

Me: thank you. I appreciate it amor.

For the rest of the day was hanging out with Carlos and playing music. In the evening, Esteban and Alyssa started to text me since I haven't spoken to them much this summer. I haven't been able to speak to both of them recently- a fact that Esteban was not afraid to point out to me along with the fact that I didn't speak to essentially everyone from New York. I filled him in on what was going on with my life, omitting some of the personal details that I wasn't sure if I was ready to talk.

I was in the middle of texting them when I saw Dad enter the house.

"I'm home," Dad finally announced the minute he entered through the door. I peered up from my phone.

"Welcome home," I announced from the living room, watching him take off his shoes.

"Where's Carlos?" Dad asked putting his bag and laptop on the couch nearby. He bit back a yawn, and entered the kitchen.

Then I heard a soda can open, and I watched Dad returned to the living room, finishing most of the soda in a single go.

"In his room talking to friends from home," I responded vaguely. My father's eyebrow arched at the comment, but he didn't ask any further. He sat down on the couch between me and his stuff.

"Oh. We should meet up with him later today," he nodded to himself. I glanced down at my phone, pretending that I was responding to a text rather than acknowledging the painful tension between us. The tension was piercing like glass, pushing further into my mind until I had to shatter it.

"Where were you today, Dad?" I asked conversationally. I Looked at him straight in the eye. My father blinked at my sudden interest in his question before looking straight at me.

"Just working. There was a business meeting that went on for hours, so I came home a little late. Did you eat?" he asked, changing the subject. I deflated at the lie.

"Yeah. I did," I answered duly.

My dad smiled, patting my shoulder affectionately. He got up from the couch slowly, leaving his brief case and laptop unattended on the couch.

"I need to shower from the day, but let's catch up after," he called out to me. I opened my mouth to respond, but he already left the room before I could say anything. After a few moments, I heard a door slammed shut followed by the sound of water running.

I waited quietly for a few more minutes before I scooted next to the briefcase and laptop. I opened the brief case, pulling out folders and stacks of papers that were clipped together. I flickered through different memos and legal papers, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

I should have been glad that I didn't find anything bad, but the nagging feeling in my stomach didn't go away.

I knew I wasn't going to get better until I see this through.

For Mom.

I pushed the briefcase to my right, and reached for his laptop. When I opened the laptop, I was immediately greeted with the familiar photo on the beach with the password box that was apparent on the screen.

Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I groaned with frustration of being barred from being able to access his page. I used every name and number combination that my father normally use- each attempt proving futile. I groaned with frustration, looking at the picture of us all smiling.

We went to a nice restaurant for Mom's birthday while we were in Mexico before going on to the beach. My aunt insisted we should take a photo by the water. It was the last birthday Mom had before the cancer came in. I looked at Mom, smiling nostalgically at Mom's carefree smile.

Her birthday...

I typed in 06201969.

Rejected.

I groaned loudly and typed Anita06201969.

It worked.

Within a few seconds, his homepage flashed onto the screen. This time, there was another background picture with our family as the background. We were at a family friend's quinceñera, and a photo was taken of the five of us. Mom was smiling, looking at a camera with a fake smile plastered on her face. Her wig, which she wore while she was outside, made her hair look a little fake, but I could almost imagine her real hair.

On the bottom of the screen, Dad's Skype notification was blowing up. I cautiously clicked on it, and saw he had a notification from Gina.

Gina: I had a great time today. Are you coming over tonight?

I paused at her words, my fingers frozen on the keyboard. I stared at her words, letting every thought run through my mind fast.

Dad: I can't. I am going to hang with my kids tonight. I miss them.

She immediately responded after sending the message.

Gina: That is great! I'm happy for you.

Gina: You spoiled me with your presence anyways :)

No. No. No. No

This couldn't be happening. I needed to make sure this was what I was thinking. I slowly started to type.

Dad: Don't worry. I have been staying over with you for how long now? I'm sure you can last one night without me.

Every word that was typed at this point as painful, becoming more difficult as my eyes get blurry from shock and the anger that was coursing through my body.

Gina: True. You have been here since we moved here, so I understand! You have talked about this for over six months now so do it. Take your time babe.

My throat closed, and I slammed the laptop shut. Bile start to rise through my throat. I pushed the laptop away, and I ran my fingers through my hair. My breathing got faster, and I felt myself hyperventilating.

Mom died only four months ago.

This proved it. David was right. He was sleeping with her.

They were talking before Mom died.

"Oh my god," I whispered to myself. I heard a noise outside of me, and I looked up to see my father in my pajamas, watching me intensely with his laptop on my lap.

"Why do you have that?" he asked cautiously, eyeing the laptop. I held the laptop with a tighter grip that I was afraid of cracking it under my fingers. His face paled.

He realized I knew.

"Nathaniel," my father began, but I shot up. I dropped the laptop to the side. I needed to walk. I needed to pace out my thoughts. They were quickly rushing through my head. I heard Dad calling for me but it wasn't comprehending in my head.

All my memories of Mom suddenly came back.

"I need to go," I said, brushing Dad aside.

"Nathaniel! I'm calling for you. Can you give me the respect to respond?" Dad shouted behind me.

I froze on my tracks.

Respect?

I gritted my teeth so hard that they could've snapped from the pressure.

I turned around.

"Tell me it isn't true then," was all I said. My father's eyes widened at my soft words, his mouth growing tighter.

"What are you talking about?" he asked hoarsely.

I pointed to the laptop on the couch.

"I looked in your laptop," I shouted to him. He flinched from my shouting. I watched him shift uneasy side to side, his eyes flickering around everything except me. Guilt was etched in his features.

My breathing grew heavy, and I felt the familiar pulse by my temple.

"Why did you open my laptop?" my father asked with a new sense of annoyance. Like me, one of his eyes was twitching, and his mouth grew taunt. I clenched my fists, angry that he was the one getting irritated.

"Are you with Gina?" I finally asked for the first time. "I saw your car at Gina's house." 

I closed my eyes for a second, and opened them to my father. His eyes were wide and his mouth was open. He took a deep breath, and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. I watched, waiting- I could even say hoping- for him to deny it. To tell me that he was working or surprising us.

Instead he took a step towards me, and placed a hand on my arm.

"Nate..." he trailed off. Anger spiked through me, I pulled myself away.

"You had an affair," I spat out. My body ached.

I wondered whether she hurt for so long.

I wanted to know how long she knew about this.

I couldn't hear her say it.

I stood in front of my unfaithful Dad. He didn't say anything. His eyes looked like they were pain, but my heart only hardened, not feeling anything for him. My body was numb, unable to feel anything besides the deep pit in my stomach.

He stood there.

I wanted him to scream at me.

"She had cancer. She was dying, and all you could do is fuck other women-"

My father slapped me hard against the face, shutting my mouth shut. My check stung as the loud slapping noise echoed the room before falling into complete silence. I instinctively gripped my cheek, glaring at my father.

He looked surprised as I was since he never struck me. Ever. 

Until today.

"Don't use that language in front of me," my father said harshly.

Despite the tone, I still knew he was just as surprised.  I looked at my father and realized how much he aged since we moved here. There were more wrinkles around his eyes, and his smile lines got deeper. His hair was now beginning to streak with gray hair, and the bags under his eyes indicated that it has been a while since he had slept.

"Was that what Mom was fighting with you on the day she died?" I asked him hoarsely.

He looked at me in silence. Tears slipped down my cheeks, which I abruptly wiped away. I looked at my father and saw a pitiful man standing across from me.

"You...you killed her," I whispered harshly.

My father's face went pale at those words.

"I didn't give her the pills. I didn't ask for her to drown. I was scared," he whispered. I shook my head.

"She drowned herself knowing that you were having an affair," I snapped at him, trying to get through his head. I closed my eyes, and imagined my mother standing there. She had a sad look on her face, tracing her bald head and giving me a pitiful look. She was crying for someone. She wanted someone.

"There is more than that Nathaniel-" he said before I felt something touching my wrist. My eyes snapped open, and I saw my father trying to touch me. I ripped away from his hurtful touch, refusing to look at him in the eye.

I shouted, "I don't want to hear it. Gina probably convinced you to move here."

There was more silence.

"She told me about the job offer available here," he only said.

"Which she also happened to take," I duly noted, realizing the coincidence of both of them moving to Alabama around similar times.

I walked away from my father, ignoring his cries for me. My ears were ringing loudly. I couldn't take this. I couldn't take what was happening.

I didn't think this would happen to my family.

My father shouted behind me, "I couldn't stay in that house anymore. Your mother..." he stopped, and wiped his eyes furiously before he continued to speak. "Could you go into that bathtub and shower in it? Could you? Could you walk down the halls, knowing that you were walking in on her body in the bathtub?" With every word he said, my father's voice grew louder. I turned around, and saw him trailing behind me.

"You left me alone in this god forsaken place alone. To be with her. To find her like that. I was struggling so long. You can't walk into the bathroom- I was the one who found her," I screamed at him. "You're not the only one who struggled here. Where were you this whole time?"

He pointed a finger at me.

"You did your own thing. You didn't tell me a single thing. I tried to talk to you and you said you were busy. When I am here, you are most of the time not here. I come here, and you sit there like you don't have anything to say with me since we got here," he snapped back at me.

I didn't say anything, ignoring him to put on my running shoes.

"My mother died, I was alone in this house, and everything I knew was in New York while my own Dad has been gone in this house most of the time. Sorry if I wasn't exactly happy," I snapped at him. He watched me put on my shoes and tying my shoelaces. When I glanced at him periodically, his face was remorseful.

I tried not to look at his face, and focused on my shoes.

"Gina was there when Mom's cancer got rough at the end. It was the hardest time of my life."

Anger coursed through me for the billionth time today. My mind became bewildered at the idea of my father trying to compromise for my mother's death and his relationship with Gina.

I turned to him and snapped, "I don't think comforting someone involves sleeping with them."

He flinched at the truth, but did not respond. Before he could, I opened the door wider to run, but my father grabbed my shoulder hard, jerking me back.

Bile rose up my throat, and it feels like someone was sitting on my chest. It was suffocating.

"I waited for you, and this was what I got. Did you ever think about your kids? How would you feel if I told Carlos. Or Camila? That you cheated, and now she's dead?"

Before anything could happen, I sprinted out the door and started to run. The hot summer weather was pushing down hard against my back. The crisp air was unable to clear my lungs, even as I ran around the house to go back into the woods.

I just needed an escape.

I kept running through the forest, feeling a slight ache on my legs even though I have ran for so long. I kept running until I reached the familiar cliffside. It was mostly dirt and flat rocks, but I felt onto my knees, hands on my face, trying to process what was happening.

My parents were in love. My dad was the type to buy Mom flowers just because he felt like it. From the occasional outing to dates and gifts, it never once occurred to me that they were not in love.

Tears began to blur my vision.

This wasn't the Dad that held her hand while she cried over her diagnosis. This wasn't the Dad that stood by every failed treatment, and send her to specialists around the country. Dad was Mom's number one supporter, taking care of her throughout the rough nights and buying Spanish sweets for her because they were her favorite. He was the one who bought her family plane tickets so they could frequently visit her until the day she died.

This didn't make sense.

How could he do this?

Tears didn't stop streaming down my cheeks, and for the first time since I got here, I cried because I missed Mom.

Author's Note: Definitely going to rewrite this scene later on. Kind of not entirely satisfied with this scene.