Baby Daddies - Tara Brown Page 0,79
My father has now also lost it.
“Yeah, well maybe me and Jenny just won’t come to your house anymore. It fucking sucks here anyway!”
Footsteps stomp down the hall to the room next to mine. Josh rustles shit loudly before he slams his door with more footsteps. I manage to force myself up from the floor as he rips open the door and barks at me, “We’re leaving. You can puke on the plane!”
There’s no arguing with him but I can’t help. I miserably watch him stuff mine and Lori’s things into bags, violently.
Judith is crying somewhere in the background. My father is silent. I have no idea where Lori is. Josh grabs all the bags and storms from the room.
It takes a lot of strength to follow but I make it. I push through. This is not the worst pain I’ve been in. Not even close.
At the front door, I find Lori coming from the bathroom. He has that look you get when your friends’ parents fight in front of you. Like you want to laugh but you’re also scared and uncomfortable. He opens the door for me and grabs my heels from the floor where I left them last night.
I’m so confused on what to do. What is the right thing? I want to patch things with my dad before I leave, but I can’t digest that him and Judith were having sex even before my mom died.
And worst of all, the realization of what was happening is making many moments of the year Mom died click into place.
It was so obvious.
The fact I missed it is mind-boggling.
I genuinely had to pretend not to see and now that the truth is thrown in my face, there’s no avoiding the facts.
My dad was cheating on my dying mom.
Josh starts the SUV and waits for us. He’s vibrating with anger as Lori walks to the driver’s door and opens it, pulling my brother out and hugging him. Josh doesn’t fight it. He hugs back and takes loud breaths as if he’s saying things without saying them or fighting tears.
“I’ll drive,” Lori says and pats my brother on the back. I climb into the back seat, silent, too horrified to speak.
We leave and it’s the worst feeling in the world. Adding the morning sickness is a special kind of hell. But at least there is nothing left in me to throw up.
Lori doesn’t drive the way he normally would, he’s careful and slow all the way to the airport. It doesn’t help with the insane nausea and dizziness, but I appreciate the effort.
None of us says anything until we reach Lori’s jet.
I’m sitting and staring out the window, vacant and distant, when Josh finally speaks, “You didn’t know, did you?”
I shake my head, unable to speak.
“Well, I guess this makes us zero for two as families and this baby go,” Lori tries to be funny but I know he’s hurting too.
“What am I? Chopped liver?” Josh scowls which makes me want to laugh. He sees my attempt at a smile and beams. “They had it coming, right?”
“You feel awful, don’t you?” I ask.
“Horrible. I just want to turn around and go back and make up. This is why I avoid saying anything. It’s either I say every single thing I’m thinking, or I pretend everything’s fine. I have no happy medium.” He sits back in the seat and sighs. “The worst part is I will be the one apologizing. Judith will play the victim like always.”
“You and me both,” I lament, aware of who will be the bad guys in this production of Hamlet.
“You guys are wasting your breath if you apologize.” Lori scoffs. “Judith is never going to accept either of you. She’s threatened by your awesomeness and has low self-esteem.”
“What are we supposed to do, stop seeing our dad?” I ask.
“I would maintain the distance you already have. That’s a toxic relationship and your dad’s a big boy. He made his choice. He chose Judith over you guys and your mom. And every time you’re there and she’s shitting on you or mocking you, and he says nothing, he’s choosing her again. Your dad’s smart enough to know what’s up.” His words sting but the validity of the sentence can’t be denied. Josh doesn’t even try to argue.
“You’re fairly wise for—”
“If you bring up my age—”
“I was gonna say a billionaire, I swear.” Josh chuckles at Lori’s feisty expression.
We laugh as the plane takes off but the humor is short-lived.