Oliver Ausman Lives Again

twelve

"I'd like to stick around, if it's okay with you guys. You could say I'm emotionally invested," she says. My gaze flicks to the rearview and Charlie meets my eyes, giving a small and undeniably smug smile. 

"Oh, well-- Okay, cool." I nod, hoping I seem casual and not like I'm forcing back a grin. "Fine with me."

It's strange how I can feel part of my worries dissipate now that our parting ways has been pushed back, at least for a few hours. Still, I'm anxious about everything else. One thing I will say for fear, though, is that it's a lot better than nothing. For the first time in a long time, I'm feeling. It's like all the emotions I missed out on in the past year have shown up in the last twenty-four hours.

"I guess that means it's time to go find my dad."

"Nervous?" Kat asks like she already knows the answer.

"To say the least." I nod, letting out a breath. There are so many things that could go wrong. "I mean, what if he's mad? And I don't even know what I'm gonna say to him. I keep wondering if I should even do this-- I mean, I'm about to interrupt his whole life, you know?"

She shakes her head and is about to speak, but Charlie beats her to it. "I would want to know," he says, voice filled with a maturity that always manages to surprise me when he uses it.

"Exactly," Kat agrees. Everything about her is warmer somehow, like she's flipped a switch to comfort me, adopting gentle eyes and a softer voice. "And even if by some chance he doesn't, and even if he does get mad, he deserves to know."

I stay silent, letting the words sink in. They're right; even if this is the worst news Isaac's ever heard, it's the truth. It's his truth, our truth. I wasn't happy about it at first either, but more than anything I was upset that for eighteen years, no one told me. If I don't do this, I'll be just like Mom and Peter.

Before I can respond, my phone rings from its place on the center console. The still traffic means I can look, but I immediately wish I hadn't been able to-- "Mom" is displayed on the screen in thick white letters, the blank contact image lacking any kind of encouraging personality. My chest feels heavier in an instant, nerves poking at my insides and stinging behind my rib cage. 

The standard ringtone lets out its second ring, but I'm still just staring, locked in place. 

"Are you gonna answer?" Kat asks. I meet her eyes, but quickly face forward, watching the cars in front of me, which may as well be parked.

Another ring.

"I can't. I'm driving."

"Oliver," she says my name in a way that calls me out for the bullshit excuse, but I can hear a hint of laughter behind the three syllables. It doesn't do much to make me feel any less like puking, though, especially as the fourth ring plays.

"Seriously, I can't. It's-- I'm severely underprepared for that conversation."

"It'll only make you feel worse if you don't answer. You won't be able to stop thinking about it, and she'll probably--" Kat stops as the latest ring is cut short.

"Hello?" Charlie says. My eyes go wide, head snapping to look at the space where my phone no longer rests. I turn in my seat to look at Charlie, who just gives me a shrug and a purse of his lips, as if he doesn't understand what the big deal is. 

"Oh my God," I mumble, turning back around and resting my forehead on top of the steering wheel. I can just barely hear my mother's tension-filled voice as she thanks God that Charlie's alright, proceeding to ask a question I can't make out.