“You’re okay?” he asks. My first reflex is to say yes, to lie. I haven’t been okay for so long, I forgot what it is to be okay. But lately, I’ve been craving normality, whatever it is. Oliver has made me want an ordinary life. A life where you can come home to someone and share your burdens. A life where arms are ready for you when you’re about to fall. A life where someone holds your hand on roller coasters.
“No,” I answer, “but I will be.”
Dereck nods, and we walk together toward his car. We stay quiet for a while, not having anything to say to each other until he breaks the silence.
“I remember when you were a kid, you know. He was so proud of you. So proud to have you and to see you race like him, go-karting like him. You had his reflex, his way of doing things. I just hope you’re careful. If your father’s death taught us anything, it’s not to take your skill for granted. There was no reason for him to die that day. He slowed down when he shouldn’t have, and we lost him, or maybe that’s what he wanted.”
“What do you mean by that’s what he wanted?” No one has ever talked to me about my father’s death. I checked newspaper clips at the library and researched it online, but neither my mother or Andre did.
“I might be delusional, Tessa, but I always found that his death made no sense.”
“Does death ever make sense?” I say, focusing on the road and trying not to think about King. He’s been less in my thoughts these past few days, and if I’ve felt guilty about it a little bit, I also feel lighter. “You know, when my fiancé died, I left. I told everyone it was to heal, but it was more because that’s what I was taught to do. When someone dies, you leave and you come back when everything is better. At least, I waited after the funeral. When dad died, Mother took me right away, and I couldn’t even say goodbye. I didn’t know he was dead until we were already in Belgium.” I wait a few seconds, watching him and then decide to ask what has been on the forefront of my mind since the meeting with the guys.
“Have you ever met my mother?” After all, if he worked with my father and met me as a kid, he should know her. He flinches but keeps his eyes on the road.
“Yes I know her. We’ve met a couple of times when she dropped you off.”
Maybe it’s the tone of his voice or the fact that his hands are entirely still on the steering wheel, but I’m not buying it.
“So, you don’t know how they met?” I try, turning my whole body toward him.
“If I remember well, she was a groupie. They had a one-night stand. She came back saying she was pregnant. He believed it was his. You were born. End of story.” We fall in an awkward silence. His tone didn’t leave room for more questioning, and I’m a little tired of the bullshit I keep hearing about my parents. Something smells fishy, but I won’t get any answers from Dereck.
Once at home, I throw myself into Google. There might be something somewhere about Andre, and my parents, but I can’t find it.
It’s as if the life of Garett Fitzpatrick has been reduced to the bare minimum.
Wikipedia doesn’t give me shit except for the guilt of using them without ever paying.
Google has hundreds of images of him with the same girls hanging on his arms. The search for articles doesn’t give me shit either.
As for Andre, it looks like I fell into Disney Channel.
He’s polished and perfect with his thousand-dollar smile.
Whoever that Dex Crawford guy is, he’s a pro, and he’s also not easy to find.
Feeling my frustration growing, I try to call Oliver to ask him where he found the trail that my parents and Andre knew each other since childhood, but he doesn’t answer.
Of course not. It would be too easy.
Pushing my computer aside, I walk to the bathroom and start running a bath. Music blaring, I undress, and get into the bathtub. I try to push aside everything I’ve learned the past few days and relax. Something Dr. Saman said I should do.
Relax, let go, allow all the suppressed feelings and anguish to take over and let my mind wander where it wants, without overthinking or controlling anything, without thinking about the reasons why my parents lied and how my father died.
Closing my eyes, I immerse myself in the water and hold my breath until I can’t hold it anymore. With a gasp, I come up for some air and smile.
That’s how I felt after the first time I spoke about King with Dr. Saman—gasping for air. Slowly, I do it again and enjoy coming back for breath. But this time, when I open my eyes, Oliver is there, pulling on his hair, his green eyes filled with worry.
“For fuck’s sake, Tessa! You call me, don’t leave a message and when I call back, you don’t answer.” Without saying a word, I stand and get out of the tub. Walking toward him with all my determination in the sway of my hips, I see his anger falter when he realizes my intentions.
“Tessa, you made me rush here, worried sick, I had to break-in, I’m not going to forget it all because you’re naked in front of me and dripping wet,”
I smirk. “But it would help. You were worried?” He nods, his distress still exuding from his body. Getting on my toes, I kiss the corner of his mouth.
“You were not answering, but I didn’t worry, Green-eyes. I was annoyed, but I never thought something happened to you.”
