“Nothing she hasn’t said before. You know it’s not true, so do Bob and I. That’s all I care about. She can’t beat me, so she needs to make up reasons why she loses other than her lack of dedication and hard work. You know this as well as I do and most everyone else. It’s just her cronies who still buy into her bullshit.”
“That’s not the worst part. It’s—” she cuts herself off, her inability to hurt anyone’s feelings clearly showing. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Just spit it out. It can’t be worse than what I heard this morning already.”
“What?”
“Nothing important. Now stop stalling and tell me already.” I know whatever comes next will be upsetting, otherwise Dakota would have told me already. She’s the only one who’ll always give it to me straight, but she can’t bear to hurt anyone’s feelings, which is how I know this will hurt.
I brace for impact.
“She keeps reminding everyone of how you killed that boy seven years ago.”
I close my eyes, the memory of that awful night invading my mind. I have to remind myself the boy isn’t dead, he’s alive and well, playing football and brining home straight As.
“Jesus, how is she still preaching that bullshit. Everyone knows he didn’t die.”
Her sigh is instant. “I just wish they all knew you weren’t the one driving as well.”
She keeps urging me to tell the truth of what happened that night, but there’s no point. They wouldn’t believe me anyway, and I’ve got no one but myself to blame. “You know there’s no point. They’ll believe what they will. I did it to myself. All I care about is that you know the truth, he and his mom know the truth, and they forgave me for my part in it.”
“One day you need to stand up for yourself and—”
“I can’t force people to like me, Dakota.”
“But you could let them see the real you for a change.”
“I’m not sure I can fix what I spent years damaging. I doubt they’d believe me anyway and would probably just accuse me of trying to fool them because I want something.” I think of Kade’s words this morning. “They don’t trust me, with good reason, you know—”
“You could at least try,” Dakota interrupts me, like always, trying to convince me I should let my guard down with people, to make them see me. “Once they see you’re genuine they’ll come around, I’m sure.”
“Maybe so. But I don’t need their approval, that’s the one thing therapy taught me. And anyway, I’ve got you and Bob, and Whisky. You’re all I need.”
Her huff of annoyance is right on cue. We’ve had this conversation one too many times not to know the outcome. She’ll insist I should try, while I try to make her understand I’m perfectly happy whether people like me or not. I’m also deliberately ignoring the fact that I’m still craving my father’s approval, but I keep telling myself that’s somehow different.
Not in the mood to delve further into this again, I steer her back to what we started out talking about. “Look, just ignore Destiny. She’ll always be a nuisance who gets off on treating others like inferiors. She’ll never change. Just concentrate on winning so you can come to the Olympics with me.”
Her laugh is soft and so quiet I barely hear her. “I’ll do my best. And you’re right. I’ll ignore her, but I needed you to know she’s talking about you to anyone who’ll listen—telling lies—and trying to turn everyone against you.”
“Babe, she’s always done this, and it’s never changed anything. Remember, we just compete, and ignore her and her lies. It’s not like I didn’t give them all a reason when I was younger. Let it go, babe.”
“I really wish you’d try to fight it, but I understand. I’ll let it go.”
“Thank you.”
“Okay, now tell me what it’s like to be back in Montana with your dad?”
I expected her to ask, but the question still catches me off guard, thinking she’d forget about it with her talk about Destiny. I take a deep breath to steady myself, trying to control the hurt that’s coursing through my body from the reminder what the people here think about me, including my father. “It’s fine. Not as weird as I expected it to be. Everyone is… nice enough, I guess.”
“What are you not telling me?” It’s her turn to press me on the truth. We’ve always been like this, able to tell when the other is lying or holding something back.
Taking a moment to gather my thoughts, I lie back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. She’ll be upset on my behalf when I tell her, she’s never understood how people can’t forgive and move on, especially family. Her family is the typical, wholesome family who still love each other and supports you no matter what you do. She never understood my dysfunctional family dynamics and why I never tried to fix them. She’s never had to experience the pain of a parent discarding you destroy something inside of you, something you can never get back. She’ll luckily never understand what that’s like.
“Let’s just say they all share Destiny’s opinion of me.” I’m not sure how else to tell her they think I’m a spoiled brat who’s been handed everything in life instead of working for it.
“What?” I can hear the outrage in her tone, her disbelief that family would even entertain anything but positive thoughts. “What did they say to you?”
“Nothing. But I overheard them talking about me.” Sadness and hurt are filling every cell in my body when I think about my father sharing their opinion of me filters through my voice.
“Wayne think this too?
