“How do you know he’s not seeing anyone? Just because you haven’t caught him with anyone in any of your stalking missions doesn’t mean anything. And, it’s not that simple.” My eyes fill with tears. What could have been. No. What should have been, eats me up every day.
“Natalie, make it simple.” Her voice is low. “He’s the only person who can help you through this. It’s time to move on.”
I wipe a tear off my cheek with the back of my hand. “I’ve got to go.” I click off the phone before she can say anything else.
“Natalie? Is that you?” My father’s voice calls from the adjoining room.
Welcome to my life of misery. It keeps getting better. “Yes, Dad?”
“Get in here. I need my urinal.”
Oh, for the love of Christ. He can still get up. “Coming.” When I make it to his bedroom, he’s grumbling, but I can’t make out the words.
My eyes narrow slightly. Don’t flip him off or act like a childish bitch. Be nice. “What can I help you with?”
“You’re as useless as you always were. Will you ever be able to do anything, right?” He glares. “I said, get my urinal.”
I gasp and the tears I’ve held back return in earnest. Fuck. I’m not crying over him. I’m not an eighteen-year-old girl. “I got here as quickly as I could.” I march over to the dresser and snatch up the plastic container.
When I reach his side, I shove it toward him. “Here.”
“What were you doing in there?” He jerks his head toward the living room. “I heard you whispering. Got some cocksucker in the other room?”
“No. No one is here.”
“Good. You aren’t inviting anyone here. I’m not dead. When I’m dead, you can have a big ass party. Until then, this is my place, and I don’t want no company.”
I swallow. I wouldn’t invite anyone here if I had to. “Yes, sir.”
His nose wrinkles into a sneer. “You see that worthless piece of shit you used to moon around like a pathetic puppy dog? Letting him crawl into your panties and violate you. You were always such a fucking whore. Just like your mother.” Spit gathers in the corners of his mouth as he issues out insults like a machine gun does bullets.
What in the fuck am I doing here? No. He’s dying. He deserves some respect. Respect? That might be going a little too far. No one should die alone. Right? “It looks like you have everything you need. I’ll leave you here.”
“You can’t leave.” His eyes are bloodshot as he sits up in the middle of the mattress. When did he get so weak? It’s like he’s wasting away.
“Why shouldn’t I leave?” Am I really hoping he’s going to say something to convince me I should stay here?
“Because you’re my daughter. You have an obligation to take care of me.”
Do I have an obligation to take care of him? A part of me feels I should, and the rest of me wants to run for the hills.
His eyes narrow into little slits. “Where are you going? Out to whore around?”
Fuck you. “I’m thirty-three years old, single, and haven’t had sex in a year.” More like five years, but that sounds too pathetic to even say out loud. “That doesn’t qualify me as a whore.”
“It does if you have dirty thoughts all the time.” His lip curls. “Do you touch yourself when – “
“Shut up.” I spin on my heel and swallow vomit. Why would he be different? He’s the biggest asshole in the world. I yank my purse up by the strap and stomp through the living room.
“Run, little girl.”
Jackass. The second I’m on the front step, I drag in large gulp of fresh air to clear the scent of rot that surrounds my father. Everything he touches turns to shit. I’m just one of the many.
Chapter Six
Trey
After opening the stainless-steel refrigerator, I grab a bottle of lager. The glass bottle clinks against the one next to it, and the remaining one wobbles sideways a half of an inch and then returns to its upward position.