I Knew You Were Trouble - Cassie Mae Page 0,42
thing.
His picture fills my screen, and I groan and press the green answer button. “Hey, Dad.”
“Did you think about what I asked?” he says with no preamble.
“About the mortgage?” I ask, even though I know damn well that’s what he’s talking about. We’re getting closer and closer to Christmas, and Demi’s at home for winter break, and I’m sure they’re struggling with how to feed her three times a day or buy more pills.
“I’d like to know what to plan for, PJ.” My dad is the only one to call me PJ, and for that reason, I never tell anyone that nickname. He usually uses it to patronize me.
Exhaustion pulls me under, but I at least have some strength to bite my tongue. Another shift though, and I would’ve just asked him who the parent is here.
“Dad… do you have anything for Demi for Christmas?”
“What kind of question is that?” Frost edges his voice, getting colder by the second. “A roof over her head is gift enough.”
But you’re not providing that either… “So no.”
“She’s old enough to get it.”
“She’s ten.”
“So were you.”
Yeah, and I remember going to school come January wondering if I’d slept through the holiday. No presents, I get. Mom and Dad have always struggled, with Dad hopping from job to job and spending most of his income on his “medicine.” But there was no tree or singing or dinner or any attempt at all to indicate a holiday had come and gone.
At ten, with my buds celebrating and playing with their toys, I started asking if we didn’t believe in Christmas anymore. Dad sat me down and said that there were more important things than presents. Like water and cable. If given the chance, I think I would’ve liked to be a kid just a little longer.
Demi’s the baby, and I worried about how fast she’d have to grow up once Mad and I left the house. Ten is still too early for me to accept, and I’m not going to let it happen to her.
“I’m planning a Christmas for Demi,” I tell him. “Got a tree already.”
“You spent money on a tree?”
“Yes.”
“So you have enough to spot me for the month.” Relief starts to replace the bite in his tone. I better stop him before he gets too happy.
“Dad… I have enough to provide Demi a good Christmas. I was gonna ask her to spend the night on Christmas Eve at my place. Mad and I will make sure she has a good breakfast and a few gifts.”
A buzz runs through the phone, and I pull the screen away to see if he’s still on the line.
“Dad?”
“Why would you take her for Christmas?” he spits out.
“You just said you didn’t have anything for her.” Frustration runs under my tired skin, waking it up. I push my hair back and grip it, trying to iron out my temper. “I’ve been saving up for it.”
“And my mortgage?”
“That’s not my responsibility,” I blurt, and the ingrained guilt he planted in me long ago starts growing in my chest. “But I will try to help. I can’t pay for it all.”
“You have enough for pointless presents, but not enough to keep a roof over her head?” He lets out a humorless laugh. “I thought I taught you priorities, PJ.”
I grit my teeth so hard I can hear them rub against each other. I sit up straight, resting my elbows on my knees. He’s one to talk about priorities. His pills and booze have always been up there at the top, and it’s exactly why he’s out of work again.
“Demi’s happiness is my priority.” It is my only priority right now. “Bailing you out over and over again isn’t helping anyone.”
“Bailing me out?” His voice rises, and I brace myself for the wrath. “Boy, I provided for you your whole life. Now when I need your help, you turn your back.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t helping, Dad.”
“You should be grateful. Happy even.”
The guilt weaves around my organs, squeezing the life out of me. Thorns from its branches pierce my stomach, my heart, my brain, and I put my head in my palms, wheezing for breath. He’s so blind to how much he relied on me and my sister. He’s so out of this world, preferring to live in a haze, unable to process just how resentful I am for my upbringing.
I never got to finish high school. My senior year, he practically forced me to work more hours, get a bigger