"He doesn't look a thing like Jesus, but he talks like a gentleman, like you imagine when you were young."
When You Were Young- The Killers
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I walk past my fathers office, he's deep in the computer, humming along a Frank Sinatra song that I cannot place. His reading glasses are on, as he clicks away with some files. A steaming hot coffee is next to him, almost completely black, making me cringe because I need a lot of creamer with my coffee.
I don't know what made me stare at me for more then five seconds, but it caught his attention through at his computer screen. He turns around swiftly, I could tell that he wants to scold me about not coming home last night, but he stops at the sight of me with his own eyes through his framed glasses. "Good morning." He half grumbles.
"Morning."
"How are you?" He asks awkwardly.
"Fine."
He nods, taking another sip to his coffee.
"How are you?"
"Fine."
I nod my head, and turn on my heel down to my bedroom. "Dawn?" He calls to me. I close my eyes in exhaustion. I walk backwards towards his office.
"Yes."
"Look, I know for the past couple years hasn't been great between us. And I know that it's been difficult to have an actual conversation without me being home from business trips and school, but I just want you to know that I do love you, and I hope that you still love me."
I'm lost from the words of my father, considering we don't talk much, and when we do it's two to three words. "Of course I love you. You are my dad."
"I don't want you to love me just because we are related. I know I hurt you in the past, and for that I will always hold that apart of one of my biggest regrets as a human being, I want us to grow as a family. Like we use too. I want to watch old Christmas movies, and pick out the Christmas tree like we use to." A sad smile crosses his thinnish lips at the memory.
If I'm being honest, I would have thought he would have forgotten those times together when I was younger because he was drunk half the time, but it warms my heart that he remembers those things.
"I do too." I don't know what I'm saying is true, but I do know that the more he brings up more old memories, the more I want it to be true.
"Alright." He smiles genuinely this time, no sadness in his voice or smile.
I start walking away again, feeling like dad and I are making an actual effort. I walk back again at the entrance of his office, he turns back again towards the door.
"And dad?" He raises his eyebrows for me to talk. "I love you."
He smiles at me again. "I love you too."
I was happy about the progression of me and dad's relationship, but I was still deeply upset about the departure between Jake and I. He wasn't even angry at me, as he tried to perceive to me. He was upset deeply, and I'm pretty much spat in his face. I always seem to ruin everything between us, and I'm sick and tired of my mistakes. All day I nervously cleaned the house, even trying to help my mom cook side dishes, but sadly she kicked me out. Saying I'd burn the house down. So that left me in my room pacing back and fourth for hours.
I took an hour long shower, but half the time I stood in the shower staring at the wet wall in front of me. I didn't want to wash what happened the night before, but the water scorches down my body, it made me just continue the scene of what happened early this morning. I used a flat iron to make my hair straight, adding a little curls along with it. I never usually do anything too special with my hair, but I needed to keep busy or I'd continue to just think about the mistakes I made with Jake.
I looked over my closet ten times, trying to find an outfit. I almost wanted to just put on sweats to show Jake that I was wrong about the whole attire, and that I really don't care what he wears. But somehow all my sweats were not where I left them last, and what I wore last night smells of sex. "Mom!" I yell out, only my head sticking out of the room.
"What?!" She yells back.
"Where's my sweats at!?"
"There in the wash! You're welcome!" She yells sarcastically back. The one time she washes for me, she washes something I don't want. I roll my eyes, and subtly slam the door.
I chose a simple causal dress, the least dressy of all of them. It was a short sleeve that served no curves for me, and could almost be a long t-shirt without the pleats at the bottom. I filled in my brows, and put some foundation powder, concealer and mascara, adding a touch of bronzer so I didn't look like a complete ghost. And usually I just stick with brows and mascara, but I needed to keep busy if I didn't want to blow up Jake's phone.
He started at eleven, and he told me he gets off at five. Right when five o'clock hits, I call his phone. It rings and rings, but no answer. Maybe I should wait a few minutes, for which I do. I call again, no answer; by the third time I call it goes straight to voicemail and I know he's ignoring me.
Me: I understand why you are upset with me, but ignoring me is not the mature way to do things. I messed up, and you deserve an apology in person.
After I sent that text, I still get no answer. My mom enters my room without a knock or a caution. "What time did you tell him to come over?"
"Six thirty." I fib quickly.
She glances down at her watch, "That gives me enough time to make dessert." She says with no enthusiasm.
"Is the turkey almost ready?"
"In about fifteen minutes or so." She sighs. She's beyond tired, and I don't know what to say to comfort her. She walks solemnly out of my bedroom. A couple minutes row by, and I hear her stirring away her famous not so famous chocolate cake.
My phone rings, causing me nearing to jump.
Jake: I'll be there in 10.
I suck in a breath when the message flashes across the screen.
It was still clear that he was upset with me from his discreet of words. I was getting increasingly nervous.
Ten minutes was an hour in Jake's book. It barely just turned seven when my mom looks at me disappointedly in the living room. I sat down to the seat closes to the door, so I can open it when he arrived. After the third call I gave to his phone in the last ten minutes, I gave up entirely.
"Dawn?"
I look up to her. I know she's beyond annoyed, so am I; but what am I to do in this situation.
She shrugs to me, with a sigh, "The food will get cold."
"We will not start without him." I snap at her, "Besides this was dad's idea anyways, and he's still working in his office." Right when I say these words, my dad starts walking down the steps.
"Is the food ready?" He asks.
Fûck.
As if on another que, the door receives a knock on the door. I sigh in annoyance but also relief. "I'll get it." I say rushingly, ignoring the wince that fell to my lips from the still dull ache between my legs.
Before my mother could protest, I swing the door open revealing Jake.
Expecting him to still be in his work clothes, was not what I see. He wore black tight jeans that had holes in them, and a black faded T-shirt slightly stained with coffee stain on it.
My eyes said it all. He completely felt smug about it. I don't know for what reason except I was livid at the sight I saw from him. Which didn't make sense because only about an hour ago I was going to go about wearing sweats for him, but just the thought that he was doing this on purpose makes my skin boil.
He steps toward, leaning down to kiss my temple. "Hey." He says nonchalantly. He side steps, entering the warming house from the blissful night. "Hello Mr. And Mrs. Rivers." Jake greets my parents as I slam the door shut a little too roughly. I turn to the sight of him shaking hands with both of them. My dad grim as ever, his eyes scanning up and down Jake's tattoos that he didn't notice before because Jake wore a sweater the day they met and my mom fakes a smile.
"Please. Call me Marsha. I know we got off the wrong foot, but I want a fresh start. Hm?"
"Of course." He fake smiles to them.
"Come on. Let's eat before the food gets cold." My mom laughs. Leading the way to the dining hall.
I stay back for a moment awaiting for the explosion to happen.
Even though my dad has changed since his drinking days, he's always been conservative. Which my mom somehow found appealing in the beginning because she thought that being private and prudish was much than people having PDA and wearing thongs around as shorts. Her opinion has changed. Or at least that's what she told Sharon.
I walk into the room. My parents on one side, and Jake on the other. Jake's already serving himself some turkey, peas, mash potatoes, and canned corn once I sit next to him.
My mom looks pleased, maybe because of the enthusiasm placed with him to eat. Dad... well that's another story.
Usually we say grace, and then proceed to eat. I guess will just flip it, I proceed to help myself with food. Mom follows, and so does dad.
Dad's glare deepens in the bitter silence when Jake finishes serving himself, and starts eating the food. Jake gave no mind to it, and even moaned out from the taste of food. I wouldn't say my mom was the best cook, so I believe he was acting. But then again, he hasn't had a proper dinner in awhile.
"We say grace in this house." My dad mutters. Jake hums questioning, probing my dad to repeat himself louder. "We say grace in this house." His voice colder.
Jake's turkey in his mouth slows down, and his gulp even slower. He sets down his fork and knife. Wiping his hands on his thighs. "Sorry." He grumbles.
"Marsha lead the prayer." Dad reaches across the table for my hand.
My hand connects to my dad's and Jake's. While Jake's other hand reaches for my mom's.
He's much more nervous then when we first came here. Maybe angry. I can't tell, but the shaken hand that trembles through mine.
Once my mother finishes, my hand disconnects with my dad, but Jake's stays locked between mine. As angry and confused I am, I don't dare try to move our hands. Stealing a glance for his left eye. Wary at it's best.
For the first five minutes of the meal was pure silence, broken simply from the chaos my parents were going to impose.
"So. Jake." My dad smiles grimly down at his plate, looking back at Jake. Jake's hand squeezes in my hand. "What do your parents do for a living?"
The hand squeezes harder, causing me to catch a sharp breath.
He coughs in his hand, apologizing for the delay. "They passed away."
My mom coughs up her peas, taking her napkin to spit in it.
"Oh." Dad's eyes gloom over. "I'm sorry."
Anger rises within for some reason, and I don't know why.
"How did they die?"
I bite my tongue the hardest I can. How could they ask such an off putting question. How dare him. How dare her? "You don't have to talk about it Jake." I quickly say, trying to connect our eyes, but his eyes are still down on his touched food. His fork falls to the side of the table.
"Dawn, you don't have to be so defensive. Your father means no harm." My mom says.
"And I'm telling you, it's none of your business." My voice becoming tougher.
"Well let the man speak will you." My dad gestures to Jake who hasn't moved a muscle.
He releases a breath, "They overdosed on drugs."
My dad's solemn expression falls to expressionless. I can't even focus on anything, but that the fact all I can see is red.
"You didn't have to tell them." I seethe to Jake.
He shrugs, picking at his mash potatoes.
"I'm sorry to hear that." My mother is first to speak of the two.
It's a few minutes a silence before my father speaks, "Do you take drugs?" He says while taking a bite of his food.
"How dare you ask such a question!" I stand from the table, my fingers pressing hard into the wooden table.
"It's a simple question." My father raises his voice the slightest.
Jake pulls me down to sit, making me glare back at him.
"I... I do, but not illegal ones. Prescription." He half lies. He takes pills for his eyes, some prescription, some not so much.
"Why do you need them?" My dad continues to criticizes him. "Don't you think you can handle your mental state with therapy and not the damn pill." My dad tries to laugh out his harsh insult.
Something twists in my gut, and I'm about to open my mouth, but Jake beats me to it. "You don't know me, you don't know what I've seen or gone through. So I don't know why you think it's okay to assume therapy should be good enough." Jake's calm facade fades into the glaring bastard I fell in love with.
"I'm just saying-"
"No! You do not just get to say! Especially knowing what you have done to your daughter." My dad's quiet at this point. "Yeah, you don't think I don't fucking know, right!?" He laughs bitterly, slamming his fork down on his plate. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"
"I have redeemed myself, not that it's any of your business!"
"Well good for you!"
"Please stop!" My mom shouts. "Can we please have a normal dinner, or at least semi." Her eyes are red rimmed, and her hands are shaky. I can tell she might be having flashbacks of her and dad arguing back in the day just by her empty eyes alone.
Both the men quiet down, but their glares hold. "And for goodness sakes, Jake, can you please take off your sunglasses. We're inside." My mother huffs.
He doesn't move a muscle, his head down at his food.
"Did you hear what she said?" My dad roughly asks.
He still does not move.
"He does not have to." I finally find my voice.
"We're inside, Dawn." My dad says sternly, which hits another nerve on Jake.
"Of all the things you've done to her, you still think you can father her!" He stand up from his seat, pointing at my dad.
"I will always be her father, and you will just be a punk who just wants her for her body." My dad stand up on the other side. "Now take off those fucking glasses."
"No!"
"Then get the fuck out of my house." My dad points to the door. "You've disrespected me, my wife and you will with my daughter, if you haven't already."
Jake moves from the table, and I follow him.
"Where do you think you're going." My dad tries to reach out to touch me.
"Don't you dare touch her." Jake barks, turning on his heel back at him.
"She's my daughter!" He counters.
Everything is happening so fast; too fast.
"You act like you know her, you don't know a damn thing about her. You get what you want and then you will drop her!" Dad spits more venom, hitting insecurities within me.
"I LOVE HER, WHY WOULD I EVER LEAVE HER!" The air drops within my lungs when Jake spits the most lovely words to my ears. What I have been wanting to hear for ages, and now I'm lost within my own brain.
My father's skin has lighten five shades, as he looks between us. "You may think you love her, but she will never really love you. She would never truly love you."
"You don't know what I want." My voice is heard, but it's foreign. I've never heard my voice so high and shrill. "I don't just love him, dad." My eyes prickle with emotion, falling down my cheeks. "I'm in love with him."
My dad chokes a breath out, looking down at the floor. "You are too young to know what love is." He says less confidently.
My mom cackles from her seat. Sipping her wine obnoxiously. I almost forgot she was here. "Shut up Ted. Our daughter of age seventeen knows more love then either of us put together and we're old." Her eyes sting of tears.
My hand hurts, and that's only because Jake squeezes it even harder. I know it was a lot for him to confess his love for me, or maybe it was all for show for my dad. Maybe he's anxious because I said I was in love with him. So many mixed thoughts swam through my brain. He pulls me towards my front door.
"Dawn, if you leave out that front door-"
"Let her go." My mom says.
And so the night whisks me away, along with Jake pulling me to his car.
A/N: Lowkey kind of an important chapter, considering this scene continued to play and replay in my head before all this was even a thought. I love this aspect of the parents hating the guy, and the guy being like bitchh I know I got problems, but I love her lol. Anyways, sorry I'm late once again 😬, but hope you enjoy... also roughly edited.😬😬