Chapter Ten
I couldn’t believe it. My mind was clearly playing tricks on me.
I woke up the next morning to the sweet smell of breakfast wafting up the stairs to beckon me out of bed. I rolled off the mattress, dragging blankets with me until they fell to floor near my bedroom door.
I followed the aroma.
It felt like a dream—and in a dream, I couldn’t bring myself to care how frumpy my clothes were or how smushed and unkempt my hair had gotten overnight. All I cared about was that glorious smell coming from the kitchen.
The sun was already peeking through the windows, so it was clearly late enough in the day that Dad should’ve been at work. Thankfully, he’d kept his job, and I’d sworn I’d heard him leave earlier that morning. But maybe he’d come back to make me breakfast before school.
Which would suck, considering I had no plan to go to school today.
“Whoa, I like the bunnies.” Jasper nodded to my pants when I staggered into the kitchen. I looked over my shoulder, down the hall, and then turned in a full circle.
What was going on?
Why was he standing in my kitchen, first thing in the morning, commenting on the fluffy little rabbit pattern on my pajamas?
“What are you doing here?” I was careful to keep my voice low.
“You don’t have to whisper. He’s not here. He left over an hour ago.”
“How did you get in?”
“Spare key under the doormat. That’s probably not the safest hiding spot, Al.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded.
“I know, I know. Before you give me the speech: yes, I broke in, and yes, I know it’s a crime. I’ll save you the trouble of calling the police and turn myself in when we’re done. But first, have breakfast.”
“You’re so weird,” I said, because if there was one thing I truly believed, it was that.
If any other person had broken in unannounced for any reason, I would’ve been horrified. But strangely enough, I kinda liked how daring he was. Jasper was the furthest thing from the bad-boy type, and yet he had the tiniest streak of rebellion in him that kept me high up on my tiptoes.
“Okay, walk me through this,” I said, stepping over to the counter to inhale the sweetness of the muffins. “What part of ‘I’ll let you know when he leaves for work’ did you misinterpret as ‘come over first thing in the morning and make breakfast before I’m even out of bed.’”
“Are you mad?”
“Not even a little. Just confused.”
“I wanted to talk to you,” he admitted. “Before we get into all the party planning and decorations, I wanted to check in. I didn’t get a chance to ask yesterday, but I wanted to see where your head’s at.”
“Meaning?”
“You were locked in your bedroom for days.”
“I wasn’t locked in,” I said. “I just . . . wasn’t allowed out.”
“How are you doing, though?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
“I feel like you won’t believe me if I say I’m fine.”
“I will,” he promised.
“Then I’m fine,” I said. “Honest.”
“I was worried about you.”
“I know.”
“Mel tried to talk me down.”
“Sounds about right.”
“But Roz . . . she said some things.”
“Oh god,” I said. “Take it with a grain of salt. That girl has a flair for the dramatic.”
“So . . . she was wrong? Your dad isn’t a tyrannical douchebag who wouldn’t know how to be a decent father if a parenting book smacked him square in the face?”
I laughed. “Yup, that sounds like Roz.”
I tossed Jasper one of the muffins and nodded over to the table. I sat down, and he took the chair right next to mine.
“Can I be honest?” he asked, and I nodded. “She scared me.”
“Why?”
“Because you told me on Friday night that you do your best to hide what really goes on over here.”
“I do.”
“Which led me to believe that you’re ashamed of something—things you don’t want your friends to know. But Roz seemed to know a lot, and it made me wonder how much worse things could possibly be.” He leaned a little closer, and I picked at the paper around the bottom of the muffin to avoid looking back up at him. “I saw the way he treated you when I was standing right there, so what happens behind close doors? Does he hurt you, Ally?”
“What? No, never,” I said, my head snapping up. “It’s not like that at all.”
“Is it alcohol? Drugs?”
“God, no, Jasper. You’re way off. I thought you said Roz explained.”
“She said some things, explained . . . to an extent, I guess. She said the rest was up to you to share if and when you wanted to share.”
“So what did she say?” I asked. “Besides the whole tyrannical douchebag thing?”
He twisted his lips. “He’s been in and out of work for the last few years.”
I nodded. “That’s true.”
“He can’t hold down a steady job because he’s always late or chooses not to go in at all. You can find him passed out in his chair at any given time of day. He’s extremely possessive—keeps a very tight leash on you.”
I nodded. “All true.”
“And I didn’t need Roz to tell me that he’s not pulling his weight around here,” he said, turning his eyes around the kitchen. “When’s the last time you’ve had a meal in this house?”
“Last night.” I looked over to the empty carry-out containers in the trash. And every day that I was grounded in my room. Strangely enough, I think it was Dad’s guilt that’d kept me fed since Friday night, even if every meal arrived by delivery. Takeout was better than starving; food was food.
But Jasper didn’t have to say what he was thinking. He’d probably spent enough time in the kitchen that morning to know that there wasn’t a trace of food in the refrigerator or cabinets, which meant he’d concluded on his own that meals were few and far between in our household.
“I don’t want to say that I don’t believe you,” he said, shaking his head. “But it sounds a lot to me like someone with a substance abuse problem.”
“Well, I don’t want to say you don’t know what you’re talking about, but . . . you don’t.” I pushed back from the table. “Thanks for breakfast, Jasper, but I think you should—”
“Don’t. Please don’t ask me to leave. I’m only trying to help.”
“You can’t help. It’s not that easy. There’s no quick fix for depression.”
“Depression?” he asked, sitting straighter.
“I don’t blame him for how bad things are, so neither can you or anyone else. This wasn’t his choice. Living hurts. Breathing hurts. He’s a prisoner in his own body, and he’s doing the best he can. He doesn’t know any other way.”
Jasper sunk back in his chair, listening.
“My mother died three years ago,” I said. “It was just one of those freak accidents, you know? She wasn’t sick. It wasn’t a long time coming. It wasn’t anything like that. It’s just . . . one day she was here, and the next day . . . gone.”
“What happened?”
“We were camping at Cedar Lake.”
Jasper’s eyes narrowed, focusing on me as I shifted to reclaim my seat.
I didn’t know how to tell this story.
I hadn’t talked about Mom since Lucy left. Roz and Mel always steered clear of the subject, and I could only assume it was because neither of them ever knew what to say. Carter had never asked about the circumstances—not to me, anyway. Maybe my friends had filled her in along the way. Dad wasn’t someone I could ever confide in, but now I had Jasper, and I didn’t know how to find the right words to tell him what I wanted him to know. I trusted him with these emotions—these feelings I’d tried to suppress for so long.
“Mom and Dad took us camping every summer,” I said. “Dad and I lov
ed the hiking. Lucy, my sister . . . she hated everything about those trips. But Mom always enjoyed the lake, and one morning—our last morning there—she’d gotten up before any of us. We were still sleeping in our tent, and she went for a swim.
“She never left a note, so we didn’t know where to find her when we woke up. The best we could assume was that she’d planned on being back before we noticed she was gone. But hours went by, and . . . nothing. No word from her. Her cellphone was left at the campsite. She, her bathing suit, and towel were gone, so we searched the lake—in it and all around it.”
Jasper shifted in his chair, and I knew in that moment he was remembering the highly publicized drowning. No one from Cedar Lake or the national park area would forget that event for many years to come. Mom’s death had been all over the news on the day they recovered her body from the lake . . . and for many days afterward.
It was a tragedy no one would soon forget.
“She was a certified lifeguard and swim coach in college,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s just one of those things you think will never happen. Over and over you just ask yourself why? How could this happen to her?”
Jasper pulled his chair closer to mine, running his hand along my back as I looked down to the table.
“Ally, I’m sorry. That . . . just . . . ”
“It sucks.”
“Yeah, it does,” he said, quietly.
“I never thought Dad would bounce back from losing her, but somehow he did. Or at least he bounced back as far as you can in a situation like that. But Lucy took it harder. School was tough for her. She failed every class. She stopped going altogether, and boys were the only thing that could fill the void she felt. Within a year of losing Mom, she was seventeen and pregnant.
“I was fifteen when she left. Dad pushed her away, and I can’t say that I blame her for running. She had to be scared out of her mind, and he only fueled her fear with his anger. She took off with her boyfriend, dead set on having the perfect future that he swore she’d just thrown away.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen or spoken to her in two years, and I almost prefer it that way. She has this inborn ability to set Dad off, and more pain is the last thing that man needs.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Every day. But my loyalty lies with Dad. If she can’t be around without hurting him, she’s better off staying wherever she is. But he doesn’t see it that way. He’d give anything to undo it all, and he falls asleep every night in that chair, waiting for a daughter who’s never coming home.”
“He’s never forgiven himself?”
“I’m not sure he ever will,” I said. “With me, he sees an opportunity to do things differently this time. A fresh start. Another chance. I’m all he has left.”
“But he’s holding on tighter than any parent should,” Jasper said. “There’s more than one way to push a person away.”
“As far as he’s concerned, he’s doing the best he can to make sure I have a better future than the one my sister made for herself.”
“Do you want out?”
“No. I’m not looking for an escape. I’m just hoping for him to find peace, and he’ll never get that if I hurt him the way he’s been hurt before. That’s why I felt so guilty after Friday night. I love him. I respect him. I remember who he is beneath that pain and heartache, and that’s the man I’m holding on to. I can’t give up on him. I have to stay. I want to stay because he’s still in there . . . somewhere. He’s trying now.”
Jasper nodded. “You’re a wonderful daughter, Ally. He has to know how lucky he is to have you.”
After everything we’d gone through together, despite the worst situations we’d endured, Dad and I had always stuck together—through it all. Though it was a nice sentiment, I knew that “luck” had nothing to do with it. It was love. Our love for one another had kept us moving forward.
“I’m sorry we always seem to land on the most depressing subjects,” I said.
“Life’s not always rainbows and butterflies.”
“It’s not all so bad, though.” I studied the fine features of his face.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Every now and then life gives you a break—a little ray of sunshine in the darkest days. I’m grateful for that.”
Jasper smirked. “Me too.”
I couldn’t help but match his smile. “So what do you say we focus on something happier now? We have lots of planning to take care of. You still wanna help?”
He didn’t readily respond. He didn’t even act as though he’d registered my question. Instead, he stared at me, and the faintest smile played on his lips.
I don’t know how it’d all happened so fast, but here I was, irrevocably enthralled with the idea of a lifetime built on moments like this. Sharing. Compassion. Warmth. Love. I wanted it all.
Jasper had managed to make it so easy for me to open up about the things I’d repressed for so long. And I’d come out of our conversations feeling stronger, happier, capable of taking on the world.
But what was he feeling? I could sense it in the way he looked at me that Jasper cared; I could see it in every move he made, especially since Friday night. And after the wager he’d proposed at the diner yesterday, I couldn’t help but believe he’d developed some kind of romantic feelings for me, too. But I wondered if he felt as strongly as I felt.
Was it possible that Jasper liked me as much as I liked him?
“Yes, I do.”
“What?” I asked, breathlessly. “You do what?”
“You asked if I still wanted to help. I do.”
“Oh, right, yeah,” I nodded. “Then . . . let’s get started.”