Hate, actually ✔

29

"I could recognize him by
touch alone, by smell;
I would know him blind
by the way his breaths came
and his feet struck the earth.
I would know him in death,
at the end of the world."

- The song of Achilles,
Madeline Miller

●●●

I am really starting to appreciate life, even though sometimes it's written in a hand writing that I can't quite make out.

A week has passed and life has been slow. Slow but nice. Leonardo officially asked me to be his girlfriend over dinner at some Italian restaurant two nights ago.

It was ironic how the paparazzi outside were clueless about how the 'married couple' they were following around finally decided to stop hating each other and -  somehow - like eachother enough to be in a relationship now.

At present, I'm in the book den with Leo. I'm cuddled into his side with my legs sprawled across his lap as he reads me one of his favourite books. It's about a guy who travels to France to start his life over, but once he's there he discovers just how much he loves the small town he grew up in and his group of friends that he left behind.

The story reminds me of Lauren and Steve, except there's no way I can return to them. I ponder on how, despite everything, I'm very lucky that they existed in my lifetime.

I steal a glance at Leonardo as he reads. I could listen to his voice forever. He had multiple meetings today but he noticed that I wasn't feeling my best so he decided to stay home and read to me. The latter is because later on, we're going to visit Lauren and Steve at the graveyard and the thought makes me emotional.

When people care enough, they make time for you. It isn't until I experienced being in a relationship with Kai and then being in a relationship with Leo that I realized that. This doesn't make Kai a bad person, it just makes me someone who is aware of what it is they want exactly.

Leonardo loves his job, everybody knows that, but the fact that he doesn't mind taking time off just to be with me makes me feel really prioritised and... Loved. Sometimes you don't realize how great the little things are until you've been deprived of them.

Just as I'm about to reach out and touch Leo's hair because I'm obsessed with him, my phone starts ringing. It's an unknown number.

Leo stretches his long limbs. "Are you going to answer it?"

I nod. "Yeah but this is creepy. I'll put it on loud speaker so the phone aliens can get us both."

Of course he rolls his eyes to this.

I press 'answer' on my phone.

"Hello?" I say into the receiver.

"Hello, princess? It's dad..."

My heart is beating a mile a minute. It really is my dad. It's genuinely my dad. We haven't spoken since I was twelve years old when I told him I never want to see him again unless he's sober enough to be a father.

Leo gives me an 'are you ok?' look and I nod. He knows all about my father.

"Sadie honey, I'd love to see you please. It's been too long," my father says.

I clear my throat. "Wh- why? Why now? Where did you find my number?"

"Your mother gave it to me, we had a long talk over lunch yesterday. I'm sober now, really sober. I went to rehab like you asked me to."

I fight the urge to be emotional. "Sober?"

"Yes garbanzo bean, I'm sober now. How does lunch sound tomorrow? I'm just trying be your dad again, I messed up."

This is weird. I haven't heard my dad's unmistakable Jersey accent and his deep, raspy voice in so long.

Leo takes my hand in his. "I'll go with you," he whispers and I immediately nod.

To my dad I say, "I'll meet up with you tomorrow but I'm coming with my b- my husband, actually. I haven't seen you in forever and I think its a good idea if I bring someone."

"Husband?" He asks, "Sadie you're nineteen, how the fuck are you married? Oh my goodness, this is my worst nightmare. I've missed everything."

"Yeah I'm married..." I say awkwardly. "You'll get to meet him tomorrow."

"Great. I'll be at The Jetty near our old place if you remember. Is 11 AM okay?"

"Eleven's alright. Bye dad."

"Bye honey," he says before the line goes dead.

Leo moves my hair from my face. "You sure you want to go?"

I shrug a shoulder. "I think so, yeah. It sounds like something our therapist would suggest anyway, for clarity or whatever."

He doesn't say anything back, he just gently pulls me into his chest and he holds me to him. That's what I love about Leonardo. He allows me to feel my feelings without the pressure of having to dissect them through conversation. He understands me.

Today made me realize one thing, though. I don't hate my father. I really don't. When I found out that it was him on the other end of the line, I expected to feel varying degrees of animosity towards him, but no such feelings erupted. I actually felt sorry for him.

When I was much younger, I had no clue about how hard it must be for drug addicts to even reach the point of wanting help. The older I got, the more I learnt. I learnt about relapses, I learnt about withdrawals and everything in between.

I remember crying all the time when my dad would come home with those crazy eyes of his. The eyes of a drugged up individual. I would get so scared and it reached a point where I didn't even know what he looked like in his sober state anymore. I had this irrational fear that he would just die one day, right before my eyes. I resented him for making me feel that way. As a child who had no idea what was going on with him, I thought my father had grown mad.

Whenever he was home, I got the same type of chills you get from a haunted house. The scariest thoughts would seep into my head: What if he's crazy enough to murder mom, to murder me?

I desperately wanted him out of our lives and my mother couldn't cope with me being afraid of my own father. That was the straw that broke camel's back - she filed for divorce.

Now that my father is sober, I don't know how to act. I grew up thinking he was crazy, I even developed a habit of calling him a psychopath (which, to date, I'm still fighting hard to stop doing).

All of this means I don't really know who my father is. I guess I'm going to find out all over again. At twenty.