Addicted to Him (3 page)

“It’s our senior year. I just don’t want to be tied down. I want to have some fun this summer.”

“Isn’t it going to be weird for you if he starts dating someone else?” she asks.

The question strikes my heart like a dagger even though I realize that it has no right to. I’ve kept Ethan a fellow prisoner for long enough, he deserves to be happy. “I just want him to be happy. Look after him for me, would you?”

She seems taken off-guard but nods then breaks into a gigantic smile. “Oh, I get it. You want to zip out to Colorado and create some whole new life for yourself. You can be anybody you want to be. I’m so jealous,” she says, collapsing into my pile of pillows.

I flip my hair and prance around the room on my tiptoes. “Yes, I think I shall be a princess of some faraway land that no one has ever heard of. Everyone there will think I’m fabulous and I’ll have my pick of smoking hot guys.”

We both bust into the giggles. Thankfully she can’t read my mind to know that I’m going to Colorado to escape guys, not hook up with a new one. Besides, it is probably going to be a full time job just dodging my dad and his wife.

“Give me a hug. This isn’t going to get any easier so I’m just going to say good-bye and bolt,” Whit says, sitting up and holding her arms out. I fall into them easily with no hesitation. I wish I could have hugged Ethan as freely these last several months.

“The summer always flies by, you know that,” I remind her, squeezing her convulsing body. I should probably try to squeeze out a few tears to compensate for her near hysterical state but I’m dry as the Sahara.

“I hope you can work things out with your dad. I know that has always bothered you.”

She’s right, it has. But I kind of doubt four months can erase a lifetime of hurt and anger. I was beyond desperate to get out of here and his house was my only option.

“Have fun this summer and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I tease, pulling out of our embrace. I usher her to my bedroom door, anxious to get on with packing, but I’m trying not to be insensitive. Sometimes I wish it bothered me how numb I’ve become to my feelings but it doesn’t.

She wipes her tears on the tail of her T-shirt, smearing her mascara in the process. “Why do I feel like I’m never going to see you again?” she says, her chin trembling.

“Like I could ever get lucky enough to escape this podunk town,” I say, shutting the door behind her, wishing she was right.

****

“Your mom says I’m taking you to the airport in the morning,” Phil says, barging in my room without knocking.

I slam my laptop shut and clutch it like a shield. “Whit is taking me,” I lie, not making eye contact.

“I’d rather take you myself,” he pushes.

“That’s okay.”

He shifts his weight from one leg to the other and I can tell he wants to argue but he doesn’t have the balls. It amazes me the imaginary lines he will cross and the ones he won’t. “I guess this is good-bye then,” he says, moving closer to the bed.

“Wade, get in here so I can teach you how to Skype,” I yell toward the hallway. My tornado of a little brother races in and lands on my bed, belly-flop style.

“I’m not the only one who is going to miss you around here, Cass,” Phil says, slinking toward the door. I don’t even respond but just start tickling Wade until his infectious laugh floods over me and washes all the invisible dirt away.

Chapter Two

It is still dark out when the cab pulls up in front of the house. I race toward it clutching my carry-on, filled with my laptop and the few clothes I brought, for dear life. I slide in the back and close the door as quiet as I can. The last thing I need is Chastity getting suspicious about me catching a cab when I’ve almost made a clean getaway.

“To the airport, please,” I demand, jamming on my invisible backseat gas pedal to urge him along. It isn’t working and I almost have heart failure waiting for him to adjust the setting on the A/C and turn the meter on. I keep my eyes peeled on the house, looking for any sign of life. The driver finally pulls away from the curb and I’m convinced that no one saw my escape.

I don’t relax until I’m past the security checkpoint at the airport. I find a seat with the best view and prepare to waste four hours. I left the house super early so that Phil wouldn’t realize I lied about Whit taking me to the airport. I’ve told so many lies in the last eighteen months I can barely remember the truth anymore. Thankfully my mother either isn’t too observant or just doesn’t want to know the truth.

I slip my ear buds in and disappear into the world of my current playlist. I try to block out how nervous I am to see my dad for the first time in five years. For the first few years after our last visit he faithfully kept up our bi-weekly phone calls, but after a while I could have had a more meaningful conversation with a telemarketer. After a while, I stopped answering and he stopped calling.

My favorite Mumford & Sons song comes on and Ethan’s face pops into my mind. I close my eyes and remember the first time he kissed me. It was pure magic. He was always so gentle and made me feel so safe. But the last several months I couldn’t stand to have him touch me, I almost outwardly convulsed at the very idea. Ethan deserves a girl who doesn’t bristle at his every touch. If only his kisses could have always felt like the first ones did. I wonder sometimes if I’ll ever be able to let anyone touch me like that again.

“Would passenger Cassidy Lawson please come to the ticket counter?” a female voice blares over the intercom, loud enough to hear even over my music.

My head jerks up at the mention of my name. Terrified, I start toward the desk and the woman calling my name. I knew it was too good to be true that I could escape this place for the entire summer. Somehow Chastity has figured everything out. I’m done.

“I’m Cassidy Lawson,” I tell the woman in the polyester airline uniform with the bun so severe she won’t ever need a facelift.

“How would you like to get to Denver a few hours early? We have one seat left on this flight,” she tells me kindly.

A flash of the plane going down and no one realizing I’m on it goes through my mind. It would take hours before anyone realized I was even missing. Dad would be upset but I don’t think Chastity would even care. She would probably be excited because she could sue the airline for a lot of money. Maybe the plane crash lands on a deserted island and I get to start my life all over again without anyone knowing who I am. Maybe I’m freaking losing it. The ticket agent is looking at me impatiently still waiting for my answer.

My phone vibrates in my pocket; I pull it out and check the screen to see Chastity’s cell phone number.

“Let’s go to Colorado,” I exclaim, hitting decline on my phone screen.

****

When the plane lands uneventfully in Denver, I realize that I have four hours to kill. As I walk down Concourse C a familiar scent hits my nostrils. I look ahead to see the restaurant, Timberline Steaks & Grille. Dad took me to this restaurant on my last visit while we waited for my flight to leave. He even convinced me to try a bison burger by telling me that Justin Timberlake, my biggest crush at the time, was the owner of the restaurant but the guy making the sign screwed up the name. It worked and I devoured an entire burger only to be left craving them for the last five years. Luckily, they are open 24/7 for weirdoes like me who want a bison burger at ten in the morning.

I duck inside and request a table for one. A waiter approaches before I’ve even slid in the booth, I suppose they are pretty used to people eating and running, and I rattle off my drink and burger order. After practically starving myself for the last eighteen months, I’m famished.

I slide into the worn leather booth and stow my carry-on next to me. I busy myself sipping on the iced tea that the waiter just presented to me.

I hold up my spoon to get a glance at my reflection and cringe. I thought by dying my naturally brown hair an awful artificial black, starving myself to turn the curves and bumps of my body into sharp angles, and dressing like a homeless person instead of a homecoming queen, that some of the unwanted advances would stop, but it hasn’t worked at all. I made myself ugly for no reason. And worst of all, Chastity never even questioned any of the drastic changes. The school guidance counselor pulled me in to ask if everything was all right, but my own mother never bothered to ask what was going on with me. Not that I’d tell her the truth but still.

My waiter places a bison burger and baked potato down in front of me pulling his hand back just in time to avoid losing a finger. I scarf it down so fast I’m not quite sure I even tasted it. I leave a twenty dollar bill, more than enough to cover the bill and tip, and make my way back out into the concourse.

I spend the next few hours perusing gift shops and getting myself worked into a tizzy about seeing my dad. Part of me is afraid that I will shun him and act like a total bitch while the other part is afraid that I will run into his arms and beg for him to save me, but he doesn’t want either one of those girls for a daughter. He isn’t used to parenting so I need to be the perfect combination of respectful, interesting, and low-maintenance so that they are sad to say good-bye but they don’t suspect anything is going on at home so they let me leave.

****

By the time I get to baggage claim, my father is pacing the floor like a wildcat and looks to be terrorizing an airport worker. I must have lost track of time because I recognize my original flight number on the now-empty baggage carousel.

“Dad,” I call out.

He turns around, looking remarkably similar to the last time I saw him five years ago except for the addition of a few gray hairs in his neatly-trimmed beard.

“Cassidy?” he asks, rushing toward me. I clutch my carry-on to my chest to avoid an awkward hug. I try not to notice the shock on his face as he realizes that it really is me. I guess I could have given him a heads-up about all the changes I’ve made to my appearance since the last picture he saw.

“Sorry, my tummy was a little upset from the flight,” I lie without skipping a beat. I used to actually feel guilty about my lies but now they are just second nature.

“You’re so grown up,” he wonders, taking me in.

Five years will do that to an adolescent, I think
.

“Where’s Lisa?” I ask, not because I particularly care, but I am hoping she will be a good buffer. Even on our best day, my dad and I have never been comfortable alone together.

“She wanted to give us some time alone. I thought maybe we could get some lunch before we go back to the house.”

There is no way I can handle alone time with him already. “That’s really nice, but I don’t trust my stomach,” I remind him.

“Of course, let’s get you home. Is this all you have for luggage?” he asks, taking in my one small bag while squeezing my arm. The gesture startles me and I jerk away slightly. He tries to hide his pain but I see it sear through him at record speed.

“I’m really glad to be here, Dad,” I say, trying to cushion the blow. Besides, it isn’t a total lie, I’m ecstatic to be away from my screwed up life in Missouri.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he says and I try to believe him. I won’t deny that I’ve got some resentment built up about him moving so far away from me, but I’m really going to try and hide it this summer. He leads the way out of the airport and out to his monstrous SUV that looks brand new. Chastity is always bitching about how little child support he pays, I bet she would be foaming at the mouth if she realized he was driving this. I consider snapping a picture with my cell phone and sending it to her just to get under her skin, but that would just give her an excuse to drag Dad back to court.

Dad stows my bag in the back while I climb into the passenger seat. He navigates us out of the airport and toward the suburb where he lives.

I’m always amazed at the amount of traffic out here. The four lanes of west bound traffic are filled even though it is mid-afternoon on a Tuesday. The cars weave in and out of lanes like a choreographed dance. It is so different from the two lane highways back home where the biggest traffic jam is usually caused by farm equipment.

“I guess I should have asked you to drive,” Dad comments, stealing a glance at me.

“No way,” I say, laughing. “I’d have this thing wrecked in a heartbeat.”

“Nah, you’ll get used to it,” he says confidently. “You can’t be stuck in the house all summer. Lisa and I work close together so we are going to carpool so that you can have this.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, amazed. Chastity never shares her car with me unless she has some mundane task that needs done and she doesn’t feel like doing it. Nobody is allowed to touch Phil’s truck. I can’t believe that I’m going to practically have my own car for the entire summer. “Wow, thanks, Dad.”

“I just want you to be happy here,” he says, zipping onto an off ramp.

I want to tell him that I’m not quite sure I can be happy anywhere but I don’t want to ruin his sweet gesture.

The last time I visited my dad he lived in a one bedroom condo. I was stuck sleeping on a pull out couch the entire visit. Not to mention being sequestered inside the entire time because he couldn’t take any time off and he was petrified of me being kidnapped. It was not a very eventful summer, although, in retrospect, he tried to make up for it on the weekends when he was off.

Dad glides through a treeless subdivision full of nice two-story houses that look remarkably similar. I will probably need to write his address on my hand every time I leave just to make sure I can find which house is his.

He slows down in front of a hand-painted mailbox, pulls it open, and hands me a wad of catalogs and envelopes. I can’t take my eyes off the curlicue painted name surrounded by brightly colored flowers. If Lisa is the one responsible for this mailbox then I can’t imagine a female more different from my mother. My mother’s idea of crafty is watching an HGTV marathon in between naps.

The house is a beige two-story with cranberry-colored shutters and matching front door. A wreath made of weathered baseballs hangs on the front door reminding me of Dad’s undying devotion to the Boston Red Sox.