Sweetest Venom
Page 29
“Yes, Daddy. I will never ever forget this day.”
“I won’t either.”
But I knew by the sorrow in his voice that my dream was coming to an end, and it was breaking my young heart, fear choking me and making it hard to breathe.
“My beautiful girl. I’m sorry for not being able to be the dad you deserve.”
“But you are, Daddy. You’re the best daddy in the world,” I said and hugged him. I didn’t realize that I was crying until I saw a wet mark on his shirt.
“You’re the light that stops me from drowning in the darkness that I live in.” He paused. “Whatever happens, know that I love you, my little Blaire. And that if I’m proud of one thing in my life, it is of calling you my daughter. Don’t ever forget that.”
But eventually things went back to the same old, and his little Blaire did forget.
“Here you go,” I hear Lawrence say, bringing me back to the present. As he places the tray full of steaming and heaven-smelling food on the table, he must notice that something is bothering me because he asks, “What’s the matter?”
I paste a fake smile on my face and reach for a hot dog. “Oh, you know—the same old. Don’t want to talk about it. Let’s eat. You’re probably starving and so am I.” The words spill out one right after the other, without giving him a chance for a rebuttal. And he knows it, but Lawrence chooses to give me the space that I need by not probing any further.
Once we’re done eating, I get up and walk to the closest garbage can, disposing of the napkins and leftover food. I stand still, close my eyes, and lift my face toward the sky, absorbing the heat from a fleeting ray of sunlight. The air has turned bitterly cold, but I don’t want to leave just yet. Breathing deeply, I enjoy the salty smell of the water and the call of the seagulls nearby. As the chilly wind picks up speed, blowing my hair in all directions, my senses come alive. I sense Lawrence standing behind me before the warmth of his suit jacket enfolds me. His hands rub the length of my arms, warming me as he pulls me toward him. I lean my back on his chest and slowly open my eyes. Each blink brings the cloudy sky, the stormy ocean, and the seemingly endless horizon into focus.
And it’s peaceful.
And it’s magical.
And maybe it’s the security of Lawrence’s arms around me, or maybe it’s Lawrence’s quiet strength seeping into my bloodstream, but somehow I find myself opening and sharing my deepest secrets with him. I tell him about my childhood, the Ferris wheel ride with my dad, of my mom packing her shit and leaving me behind. I tell him of Paige Callahan and her father, Matthew. I tell Lawrence how Matthew used to fuck me in a dirty motel in exchange for pretty gifts and money, and how after he was done with me, he’d go back to his big house on the fancy side of town and pretend to be the exemplary father and the pillar of the community.
When I’m done, I feel unburdened and, oddly enough, unashamed. This is the difference between Ronan and Lawrence. Ronan held me on a pedestal. He saw in me the person he desired me to be—someone worthy of him. And I was too afraid to shatter that illusion. I wanted to believe it myself for however long we were together so I would be worthy of him. If I had told him about my past—of who I really am—he would have run for the hills, and I was too selfish to do so. I wanted him too much. But you can only live a lie for so long before it smothers you, poisoning every word, every touch, and every kiss. Lawrence, on the other hand, holds no illusions of me. He knows me for who I am, and it’s freeing. So freeing.
“Before you say anything, I just want you to know that it’s all in the past. It doesn’t bother me anymore.”
“I won’t either.”
But I knew by the sorrow in his voice that my dream was coming to an end, and it was breaking my young heart, fear choking me and making it hard to breathe.
“My beautiful girl. I’m sorry for not being able to be the dad you deserve.”
“But you are, Daddy. You’re the best daddy in the world,” I said and hugged him. I didn’t realize that I was crying until I saw a wet mark on his shirt.
“You’re the light that stops me from drowning in the darkness that I live in.” He paused. “Whatever happens, know that I love you, my little Blaire. And that if I’m proud of one thing in my life, it is of calling you my daughter. Don’t ever forget that.”
But eventually things went back to the same old, and his little Blaire did forget.
“Here you go,” I hear Lawrence say, bringing me back to the present. As he places the tray full of steaming and heaven-smelling food on the table, he must notice that something is bothering me because he asks, “What’s the matter?”
I paste a fake smile on my face and reach for a hot dog. “Oh, you know—the same old. Don’t want to talk about it. Let’s eat. You’re probably starving and so am I.” The words spill out one right after the other, without giving him a chance for a rebuttal. And he knows it, but Lawrence chooses to give me the space that I need by not probing any further.
Once we’re done eating, I get up and walk to the closest garbage can, disposing of the napkins and leftover food. I stand still, close my eyes, and lift my face toward the sky, absorbing the heat from a fleeting ray of sunlight. The air has turned bitterly cold, but I don’t want to leave just yet. Breathing deeply, I enjoy the salty smell of the water and the call of the seagulls nearby. As the chilly wind picks up speed, blowing my hair in all directions, my senses come alive. I sense Lawrence standing behind me before the warmth of his suit jacket enfolds me. His hands rub the length of my arms, warming me as he pulls me toward him. I lean my back on his chest and slowly open my eyes. Each blink brings the cloudy sky, the stormy ocean, and the seemingly endless horizon into focus.
And it’s peaceful.
And it’s magical.
And maybe it’s the security of Lawrence’s arms around me, or maybe it’s Lawrence’s quiet strength seeping into my bloodstream, but somehow I find myself opening and sharing my deepest secrets with him. I tell him about my childhood, the Ferris wheel ride with my dad, of my mom packing her shit and leaving me behind. I tell him of Paige Callahan and her father, Matthew. I tell Lawrence how Matthew used to fuck me in a dirty motel in exchange for pretty gifts and money, and how after he was done with me, he’d go back to his big house on the fancy side of town and pretend to be the exemplary father and the pillar of the community.
When I’m done, I feel unburdened and, oddly enough, unashamed. This is the difference between Ronan and Lawrence. Ronan held me on a pedestal. He saw in me the person he desired me to be—someone worthy of him. And I was too afraid to shatter that illusion. I wanted to believe it myself for however long we were together so I would be worthy of him. If I had told him about my past—of who I really am—he would have run for the hills, and I was too selfish to do so. I wanted him too much. But you can only live a lie for so long before it smothers you, poisoning every word, every touch, and every kiss. Lawrence, on the other hand, holds no illusions of me. He knows me for who I am, and it’s freeing. So freeing.
“Before you say anything, I just want you to know that it’s all in the past. It doesn’t bother me anymore.”
