Rare Blend (Red Mountain #1)

34. Marisa

CHAPTER 34

Marisa

HIS HANDSHAKE WAS LIMP

“ S he’s not coming,” Ethan repeats.

I heard him the first time, but I didn’t respond. My mom isn’t coming.

“Oh,” is all I manage to get out.

I should be feeling more.

More upset?

More emotional?

I feel none of those things. I feel nothing. A dark pit of nothingness.

“That’s why she kept calling,” he adds hesitantly.

“Well.” A forced smile pulls at my lips as I sigh, my blinking eyes betraying what I can’t hide with a smile. The sting of tears tickles my nose, so I take a deep breath and force them back. “Did she say why?”

He twists his watch nervously. When his eyes cut to mine, they’re filled with sadness. He feels sorry for me. I look away, hating it.

“She didn’t really say. She said she would call you to talk about it when you’re feeling better.”

I shrug, throwing the covers off myself, the bed suddenly feeling suffocating. “I’m sure she had her reasons.”

A shower. That’s what I need. I’m all goopy and snotty and clammy. I think a nice, hot shower would do wonders for me right now.

“Marisa,” Ethan starts. “What are you doing?”

I grab a towel from my closet. “I’m going to shower.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

A bitter laugh jumps out of me. “No. I’m good.”

He stands at the entry to the bathroom, blocking me from getting through. “Are you okay? You seem…”

His words die, but he holds his eyes to mine.

I offer him a brief, strained smirk. “I’m fine. I’d be even better if you moved.”

His jaw tightens, lips drawing into a thin line as he stares at me for a few beats before stepping aside.

“You don’t have to act tough around me. If you’re upset about it, then be upset. Let it out.”

My spine stiffens, annoyance working its way through me. “I really wish you’d drop it.”

“I would if you weren’t acting like a fucking mannequin.”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” I bite. And then take a breath, trying to reel in my irritation. “Thank you for the soup and the medicine, but I’d like you to leave. I just want to be alone.”

He nods, shoulders dropped and resigned, before quietly walking out. It’s not until I hear the click of the door that my lip starts to tremble.

It’s silly.

Stupid, honestly.

I don’t even like Thanksgiving. The food is bland and boring.

I step into the shower, my skin rising with goosebumps even as the hot water pours over me. My body is vibrating, shaking to the point that I feel like I’m swaying back and forth. It must be the flu, I’m probably still running a low grade fever. A loud choking noise blares over the sound of the water beating down on the tiles and I jump back slightly, trying to identify the source. It happens again, and I realize it’s me. I’m the one choking.

Gasping.

My vision blurs under the fall of water. My chest heaves, shoulders dropping as the tension in my neck snaps like a rubber band. I break down, tears streaming heavily and mixing with the hot water.

My mom isn’t coming.

Maybe I shampoo my hair, I’m not sure.

My mom isn’t coming.

Maybe I wash my body, I’m not sure.

My mom isn’t coming.

I let my skin turn wrinkled and pruny, standing under the water until it runs cold and forces me out.

As I’m wrapping the tie of my robe around my waist and knotting it, there’s a knock on the front door.

It’s probably Ethan coming to check on me.

I answer the door, ready to explain myself.

Except it’s not Ethan.

“Dad?” I freeze for a second and then push the collar of my fluffy robe against my neck. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?” he asks, already walking in.

I let the door fall open wider as he walks through and into the living room.

“What’s going on?” Normally my dad would text or call before popping by. He’s not really a random drop in kind of person.

“I ran into Ethan a few minutes ago.” He takes a seat on the couch. “He told me about your mom.”

Instead of answering, I stay quiet and close the door, keeping my head down.

“I’m sorry, sweets. I wish there was something I could do to change the situation.”

I fuss with the tie on my robe. “Why are you apologizing? It’s not like you’re the one who promised you would come. The one who bought a plane ticket and even showed me a screenshot of the purchase. The one who hasn’t been home to visit me in over three years.”

He sighs, rubbing his face. “Your mom is?—”

“Don’t. If you’re going to talk badly about her. Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.”

He shifts his head, regarding me patiently. “Will you let me finish?”

I take a seat on the couch, curling my legs under me, and give him a nod.

“Your mom is a free spirit.” He looks at me, asking for silent permission to proceed.

I give it to him with arched brows.

“I ever tell you how we met?”

I shake my head, biting down on my tongue. I’m not sure I want to know, but I do at the same time.

“She worked at this hole-in-the-wall ice cream shop right off campus. I would drop in there between my afternoon classes every Thursday. And every time, I would try to talk to her. Joke around, flirt. But she wasn’t having it. Her accent was a lot thicker back then, and I thought it was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.”

I cringe, giggling. He chuckles, his eyes looking into the distance, as if he’s remembering it. It’s bittersweet hearing the origin of their story, knowing that the ending isn’t a happy one.

“Anyway,” he continues. “I kept going, and then one day she was like, ‘Are you going to ask me out or what?’ So I did. And we fell in love. When we found out about you, we were excited, but we were also terrified because we weren’t ready. I think we both projected a lot of our fears onto you. We wanted you to be everything we never could be. With me, that meant academics. I wanted you to have your pick of colleges, of career options. I wanted you to achieve all of your dreams. With your mom, she wanted you to be that free, young woman that she had to suppress while raising you. Her family…well, they weren’t very kind. They were extremely religious, and she felt trapped in her upbringing. When she eventually found her way to the states, she was excited for some freedom. Neither one of us, but especially her, were quite ready to be parents. But she’s been a good mom to you, and she loves you. You know she does.”

“I know,” I say quietly. “It just sucks.”

“And I’m sorry for being so hard on you. For making you feel like you weren’t good enough. I hated watching you settle for that job. Settle for that guy. You wanted to be a writer and when that dream changed for you, I guess I had a hard time letting it go.”

My eyes look at his, glassy as they stare at me.

“You are more than enough. You’re everything.”

The dam breaks. I’m still unstable from crying in the shower, and now I’m crying again. My dad scoops me up in his arms and holds me while I cry.

Still cradling me, he clears his throat. “You know, I bought the Herald because of you.”

My body stills, and I pull back, meeting his eyes. “What?”

“Sweets, I worked in publishing for twenty years. You think I don’t know that newspapers are a dying media.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’d already ruined things with you and then an old buddy told me about a newspaper in a tourist down being for sale. He only mentioned it in passing, but it piqued my interest because I was ready to start slowing down. I don’t know…I thought maybe you’d want to come along with me. Obviously, our relationship was too broken for that conversation, but I still held out hope that one day I’d get to see you become a journalist. I know it’s not New York or some fancy magazine, but it’s something.”

A heavy knot weighs in my throat, only adding to the emotional overhaul today has been. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His shoulders lift with a sigh. “I was going to. You and I had plans to get dinner before I moved and I had it all prepared, but then you showed up with that piece of shit and stars in your eyes, and I knew I lost you. I also knew he was a twerp not good enough for my little girl.”

I let out a watery snort. “You could tell in just one meeting?”

His lips contort. “Sweets, a man knows. His handshake was limp and he looked at you like a prize, like a pretty thing to have on his arm, not like a man in love. But you weren’t a kid anymore and I couldn’t tell you all of that. I could only hope that you’d figure it out, which you did.”

As I wipe my damp cheeks, my mind is reeling. “I wish you had told me sooner about the Herald …and about Brandon, too.”

He exhales a small smile. “I know you’re heading back to Seattle and that job is an amazing opportunity, but just know you’ll always have a place at the Herald , and you’ll always have a place with me. I may not have been the greatest dad, but I love you very much and you’re never going to stop being my little girl.”

I’m not sure how long we sit, catching up on years’ worth of conversations. An hour. Maybe more.

Eventually, we both pull it together. He tells me about Caleb’s football game. How Sadie showed up with a boyfriend she’s been hiding from Jenn and they had a big blowup.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I met with my financial guy and we worked out a better deal for your loan. Payments are now a much more manageable $350 a month.”

“Thank you for handling that,” I tell him, still a embarrassed I got myself in that mess.

He waves it off. “If you don’t make a bad money decision in your twenties, then you’ll make one in your thirties, and that’s worse.”

The conversation shifts, and he invites me to Jenn’s family’s Thanksgiving, repeating several times they would welcome me with open arms, that they’re really nice people. I tell him I’ll think about it.

“Goodnight, sweets. Feel better and get some rest.” He kisses my forehead and leaves.

Once my dad is gone, I continue to think about what he said about settling. Was I settling becoming a technical writer instead of continuing to pursue journalism? At the time, it felt like the more responsible decision. It’s not as if dreams pay the bills, but now I’m questioning what I even want at this point. My job at the Herald is only supposed to be temporary. Everything about Red Mountain is supposed to be temporary.

Later on that night, I contemplate texting Ethan but decide against it. I think what I actually need is space. A day. Maybe two.