“Yeah, well, she didn’t smile much.”
Dad looks at me. “What are you talking about? She smiled all the time.”
I shake my head. “No, she didn’t, Dad. Those pictures? They’re outliers. Those are fake smiles from broken kids. If I remember correctly, not long after that photo was snapped, you and Mom got wasted. I had to walk a mile down the road and call your friend Tom Maynard for a ride. When we got home, Chloe wouldn’t stop crying because she left her favorite doll in Tom’s car. Mom backhanded her, and do you know what you did?”
He swallows, but doesn’t make a move.
“You told her to quit being a pussy. And when she still wouldn’t quit crying, you locked her in a closet and left her there—told her if
she came out you’d whip her ass until it was black and blue.”
“I—” He looks down at the picture in his trembling hand.
“I waited until you passed out on the couch, and then I let Chloe out and held her while she cried. When her tears dried up, I gave her a bath, fed her dinner, and put her to bed.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I’m thankful for the momentary reprieve. I pull my cell out and see a text from Chloe.
Got any plans today?
At Dad’s now. I have a training session at The Barn at noon, and then I’m free.
Want to help me move a few things to Rose’s place?
Sure. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Leave the heavy lifting to me.
When I slip the phone back in my pocket and look up, Dad is still staring at the photo.
“I don’t know why you’re doing this, Dad. Why now? Why drag all of this out?”
He blinks and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
We stare at each other for several long seconds, and then he clears his throat.
“I’m sorry I told you to get outta my house the other day.”
I want to correct him, tell him that technically it’s my house, but I’m better off keeping my mouth shut. I’ve fought with him enough over the years, and I’m tired of it.
“Don’t worry about it.”
I turn to the cabinets to make sure there isn’t anything he needs. I’ve done a pretty good job of keeping him stocked, and I think we’re good for at least another week or so.
“I’ll stop by in the next few days and fix that leaky faucet.”
“Okay,” he mumbles, picking up another picture. “Linc?”
“Yeah.”
“Your mom didn’t want kids. When she got pregnant with you, I tried to convince her it was going to be okay, and for the first few months, it was. She seemed happy. But then Chloe came along. My sweet baby girl.” His eyes mist as he brushes a thumb over the picture. “I’m not sure if it was the stress of caring for two kids or if it was Chloe herself. Chloe was a difficult baby—always crying. She had colic, and I swear the girl cried from five o’clock in the morning until five o’clock at night. I would come home from work, and your mom would hand me Chloe, shove you into my arms, and she’d be out the door.”
Dad takes a deep breath, and I stand frozen. He hasn’t talked about Mom once since she walked out on us, and as much as I don’t want to hear what he has to say, I can’t get myself to walk away. For some reason, this moment feels important—the conversation long overdue.
With a heavy sigh, I walk across the room and clear a spot on the couch so I can sit down. “Where would she go.”
“The bar. Every single night, like clockwork, she would walk out when I walked in, and I wouldn’t see her again until she stumbled in sometime around two in the morning. She always reeked of beer and men’s cologne. But I loved her. I thought she was just going through a hard time and needed an outlet, so I let her have it. But it only got worse. She would stay out later and later until she quit coming home all together. I’d go days without seeing her. Eventually I lost my job. Your mom and I, we would fight, endlessly. I started to resent her, and eventually I, too, turned to the bottle.”
He looks up, tears in his eyes, and frowns. “That was my first mistake. If I could go back and change anything, it would be that night. I’m sorry for a lot of things in my life, but that moment is top on my list.”
I look down at my hands hanging loose between my knees, unsure how to respond. I know how the rest of the story goes, because I remember that night. That night my entire life changed.