"I'm here to pick up my kid," my dad replied with a lot more ice in his voice than I was used to hearing. This was my dad when he was livid but couldn't express it freely, lest someone called child services.
I was a dead woman walking.
"Oh yeah?" Dean's old man angled his body towards dad. "Why don't you pick up your kid and fuck all the way off to your beach, then?"
"Dad!" Dean barked. The man only glanced at us once before focusing his attention on my dad again. By this point the crowd had begun to zero in on the altercation and gather all around us. "Stop, please."
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. His dad whirled around and in two long strides reached his son. He grabbed the collar of Dean's coat and brought him close to his face. With difficulty, I might add, because Dean stood ramrod stiff like a giant made out of solid rock. I was just off behind him and could see the side of the older man's face contort with so much anger that I was sure he was going to strike Dean right there, in front of the whole town.
I realized that I was not the only one who didn't get along with her dad. I'd convinced myself somehow that everybody else had a great relationship with their dad but me. And yet.
And yet, my dad loved me. In his weird, detached way. He was going to kill me tonight, sure, but I knew the outcome the second I decided to join a boy's hockey team without telling him. His anger was justified.
This, the sheer fury I saw in this man's face as he looked at his son — his perfect son who had won a gold medal for his country and his town this summer, this was not normal. There was no way this was provoked.
My hand reached for the sleeve of Dean's coat and I pulled at it. That was all my numb body could achieve at that point. I was shocked then when suddenly the older man jerked backward, the motion revealing the culprit behind it to be my dad. Someone gasped. I figured I better get ready for a fight to break out as my dad and Dean's stared each other down.
I had to stop this before it escalated. This wasn't like a hockey game.
"Dad, let's just go home, okay?" I said.
Both men looked at me. I must have looked sufficiently scared that the fight seemed to leech off of them. Dean's dad said something to mine. It was so low that I couldn't hear, but whatever it was fogged my dad's face up, and it wasn't just because everybody's breath was coming out in a puff.
"Let's go, Dean," the man said with a cutting voice.
I looked up at the captain of my team. My friend. The town's golden boy. His eyes betrayed nothing. They were dark and closed off, not at all that vulnerable Caribbean blue I'd grown used to. The only thing that gave away the turmoil inside of him was the ticking muscle in his jaw. He was grinding his teeth so hard it was a wonder he didn't snap them off.
"Are you going to be okay?" I whispered.
He looked at me, but it seemed to take him a second to realize who I was. He swallowed thickly and nodded before following his father.
The crowd started dispersing as they left. I looked around us for the first time and saw the pitying glances, the upturned lips and noses. They'd all seen what had just happened. None of them had intervened. I didn't know if it was because they all hated my dad, or if it was because they'd seen a performance like this from Dean's father before, or both. I caught Pace's eyes and he shook his head as if to say that now was not the moment to talk. And we would. I needed to understand what the hell had just happened.
But after my dad killed me, I guessed.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked by me, saying, "Let's go."
I picked up my bag, which I'd dropped on top of the brown slush on the street. We walked in silence and the more our steps accumulated in the snow, one after the other, the more shallow I begun to breathe. He was going to make me wait for the blowup until we got to the hotel, most likely behind closed doors. The only real regret I had was that I couldn't say a few last words to my brother, whom I loved very much. Something along the lines of this is all your fault for letting my dad and I live together. He and dad couldn't have possibly expected that this would all turn out okay, hockey team or not. St. Andrews school for boys or not.
Once we walked into the hotel the old man who had the night shift sent a nod my way.
"I heard you were pretty tough in tonight's game."
Dad and he looked at me, pointedly but for different ways.
"Thank you," I said. "Have a good night."
"You too, kid. Don't forget to ice yourself."
I sighed, wondering what was up with everybody in this town and icing. Wasn't it already cold enough?
I shook my head. Canadians.
Meanwhile dad bid the man a good night as well and steered me toward my room. He waited until I produced the key from my duffel bag and followed after me. I dumped the bag and my coat on the floor and sat on the bed. He took a deep breath and I cringed, ready for the inevitably high volume that was going to come out of his mouth.
Instead just a sigh came out. He dragged his hand down his face, pulling at the skin until it almost looked like it was melting off his jaw. I just stared at him with eyes wide open. I was not going to say a single peep. I'd let him scream bloody murder at me, pretend I was contrite and then carry on tomorrow morning. That was how we usually operated. He couldn't deal with me for extended periods of time and neither could I. I'd bet he was counting the days until I left for whichever college he wanted to see me off to, just so that he wouldn't have to give me one of these speeches again.
"I'm cutting off the internet from your cellphone," he announced. His voice was tired, just like the rest of him. "I'll let you keep it because I need to be able to call or text you, but you won't have any data any longer."
I broke the rule I'd just set for myself of staying silent. "But-"
He raised the palm of his hand and continued. "I don't want you see you hanging out with that kid anymore."
I shot up to my feet. "He's my friend!"
"Well, his father's not my friend, or yours, or his own son's, for that matter." He took a deep breath and exhaled it through his mouth. "That was Peter Hyde, the president of the local union. I'm trying to negotiate the layoff of a further 53 workers and he's having none of it. We've almost come to blows about three times already."
I snapped my jaw shut and fell back on the bed, crumpling under the news like a wet tissue. I felt my face scrunch up and my vision blur.
"You can't keep doing this to me," I told him, hoping that I cut him through the bone. "You can't keep tearing away at any root I make anywhere."
I could tell that it succeeded with the way he flinched. Good. I was out for blood.
"You brought me to a small town in the middle of nowhere where everybody hates you. And guess what?" I asked, hating that my words faltered as I tried to hold back the sudden onslaught of tears and resentment that was corroding me from the inside. And it was all because of him. "I made friends on my own. I found people who were willing to accept me despite you being my dad, and now you want to cut me off from what little happiness I was able to find?"
"Damn it, Carlota. What happens when they find out you're actually a girl?"
It sank in my like an ice cube down my throat. I blinked back the tears and looked at the worry lines in my dad's face.
"Are you asking because you're worried for me... or for what people will think of you?" I asked him.
An eternity seemed to pass before he was able to reply.
"For both of us."
I knew it was the sane answer. He was going to be in trouble for lying to everybody. His business associates might even start wondering what else he was lying about. And yet I thought that this one time he'd give me what I wanted, that he'd tell me that it was because he was worried for me.
That was our problem. We were both too alike, each one focused on ourselves.
"Anyway," he said, looking anywhere but at me at this point. "I was looking for you earlier to tell you some news. The house is finally ready and we'll finally be able to move in this weekend. I didn't find you in your room to tell you and Fred over at the front told me you were playing tonight. Imagine my surprise."
I refused to engage at this point. I stared to a point of the door off to his right.
He continued, as though nothing was amiss. As though we weren't both trembling with barely contained anger or as though my disappointment was not radiating off of me in heat waves.
"I had to find out through a stranger what my own daughter was up to."
I snorted. "Son, remember?"
There was a beat of silence before he said, "I tolerated your boxing because I thought some self defense would be good for you. But what good is hockey for you?"
I folded my arms, still focused on that point at the door.
"Camaraderie? Support? Something I'm sorely lacking, you see."
"You're going to get hurt, Carlota." I heard his sigh and it flew over my head. "I just saw the boys you were with. They're a lot bigger than you and they're boys. And boys can't be trusted. I won't allow you to keep playing that reckless sport."
I acknowledged him then, with a half smile. "They say keep your enemies closer, which coincidentally is the reason why you and I are in the same town."
That made him clench his jaws.
"Yo soy tu padre. You will not speak to me this way," he screamed with so much vehemence that the veins in his neck bulged. "And you will do as I say!"
There was the angry tone I'd been expecting all along, finally. It gave me some satisfaction that I finally drew it out of him. Unfortunately this was as much feeling as my dad ever showed me and God, how I wished there was something better out there.
I wished I had a father who loved me openly and freely.
I wished my mother hadn't died.
Tears were streaming unbidden down my face at this point. I turned my face up in defiance and through gritted teeth I threw him a vicious threat, "If you think you'll be happy by forcing me to do what you want, you have another thing coming."
mkay folks, the villain's been revealed. and it's NOT your first guess.
who is your SECOND guess? hit me with your theories, though i'll confirm nothing and will just sit in my quiet corner with a cup of tea.