She shook her head. “No. Just to get ready. Which I assume means packing. Maybe.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Clinton, it’s not that simple.”
“What’s not that simple? Come on. Dad said something and I deserve to know what it is.”
“I know. I know. Just… please. Just give me a second.”
Don’t explode like him. “He wants me to be some sort of rental tenant in this house, doesn’t me?”
“No.”
“He wants me to go live with Roy? Or Rae?”
“No, that’s not it. He’s just—”
“He’s just what? Tell me, Cecilia. What am I supposed to do here? He’s sold the house. You’re going with him. Am I supposed to come, too?”
And when her eyes teared up, I fell back into my chair.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
She sniffled. “I’m sorry. I tried reasoning with him. I’m still going to try and reason with him. Just give me some time, okay? He’s still very angry.”
“He doesn’t want me coming with you guys?”
I slammed out of my chair. My fists balled up at my sides. I felt myself spiraling out of control as Cecilia yelped in shock. The kitchen table came off its fucking feet. It fell to the ground, raking across the marble of the kitchen floor. I felt my mind exploding. I felt my heart combusting. It felt like the pain and anger in my body was ripping me apart, limb for limb.
I had no words to describe the hurt coursing through my system.
“He said you’re eighteen and you can figure it out. But I’m going to talk to him.
You’re his son. You're my son, Clint. And I’m going to do whatever it takes to talk some sense into him. To get him to back out of selling this house. Even if he puts it in my name. Even if he washes his hands of it that way. I’m not going to let him do this to you, Clint.”
I heard her voice, but it seemed so far away. I felt her hand on my arm, but it barely rooted me to reality. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. She eased me back into the kitchen chair. I sniffled as I stared at the wall, my chest jumping in anger. In hatred.
In defeat.
“He wants you to go with him, but not me.”
Cecilia crouched down beside me. “Clint, look at me.”
“Just say it. Just—just so I can hear it.”
“Look. At. Me.”
I slowly turned my eyes down to hers. She cupped her hands around my knee, steadying herself as her own tears flooded her face. I wiped mine away on my shirt, wishing and willing this life to be over. Hoping and praying I’d wake up from this fucking nightmare I’d been plunged into.
“I’m going to talk some sense into him. I’ve got weeks to do it. And I’m going to research legal avenues. See what I can do about fighting this. It isn’t over. Okay? Can you hear me, Clint?”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “I just want to hear you say it.”
“Say what?”
“Say, ‘Your father wants me to come with him, but not you.’”
“I’m not saying that.”