desertion

90

LYDIA

The next morning, I woke up to Buck shaking my shoulder gently. I groaned, burying my face in my pillow.

"Lydia," Buck said softly, but the disappointment in his tone was clear.

I didn't want to deal with it—not him, not the conversation, not anything. "I don't want to talk about it," I mumbled into the pillow.

Buck sighed before tugging me up so I was sitting upright. I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the headboard, avoiding his gaze. "What's going on with you?" He asked, his voice firm but not unkind.

I shrugged, my arms crossing over my chest. "I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Buck sat down on the edge of my bed, his expression unrelenting. "That's not an excuse, Lydia."

"I didn't say it was," I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. "I'm not happy with myself either, Buck. Trust me."

He frowned but didn't argue. Instead, he asked, "Why do you think I'm here?"

"Because Dad called you," I said flatly, finally looking at him.

Buck nodded, his eyes softening. "Yeah, he did. He's worried, Lydia. And so am I."

I looked away, picking at a loose thread on my blanket. "I'm going to apologize. I just don't think it'll help. It didn't last time."

"Because apologizing isn't enough," Buck said gently. "You two need to talk about it."

"I know." I admitted quietly. "But I don't want to argue with him again."

"Then don't argue," Buck said simply. "Speak calmly. Tell him how you feel. He can't fix things if he doesn't know what's going on."

I hugged my knees to my chest, resting my chin on top. "I just want to go back to work," I whispered. "Ever since I was told I couldn't, things between me and him have gotten worse. They've become constant."

"It's not constant," Buck said with a small shake of his head. "Parents and kids argue, Lydia. That's life."

I lifted my head, narrowing my eyes at him. "Not like this. Other parents and kids don't raise their voices like we did. Other kids don't say the things I did."

"You'd be surprised," Buck said softly, his gaze steady.

I sighed, leaning my forehead against my knees. "Would it help if you were there when I talked to him?"

"I don't know, Lyds. But if you want me there, I'll be there," Buck said.

I hesitated before nodding. "I don't want to talk to him while Chris is in the house... in case it turns into an argument again."

"You don't have to worry about that," Buck said. "Chris is with Carla at the park."

Another sigh escaped me as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. "Let's get this over with," I said quietly.

Buck followed me to the living room, where Dad was sitting in one of the armchairs, flipping through channels. He looked up when we walked in, his expression guarded.

I sank onto the couch, my hands twisting nervously in my lap, while Buck and Dad sat in armchairs on either side of me.

The silence stretched uncomfortably until Dad spoke. "You wanted to talk?"

I nodded, my throat dry. "Yeah. I... I just..." I trailed off, unsure how to start.

Dad leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "Go ahead, Lyds. Just say whatever's on your mind."

I swallowed hard, feeling Buck's reassuring presence beside me even though he didn't say anything. "I'm sorry," I began, my voice shaking. "For what I said. I shouldn't have said that your best isn't good enough. It was rude and untrue."

Dad's eyes softened, but he didn't interrupt.

"I've just been so angry," I continued, my voice cracking. "Angry at myself, mostly. I feel like... like I'm not enough. Like I'm the problem. And I don't know how to fix it."

"Lydia..." Dad started, but I shook my head.

"Let me finish," I said quietly. "You weren't there for so much of my life when you were enlisted, and I know it wasn't your fault. But living with Grandma and Grandpa..." I hesitated, tears welling in my eyes. "It wasn't easy. Even when Chris wasn't born and you were still enlisted, I felt invisible all the time. And when I wasn't invisible, I felt like a burden."

Dad's expression twisted with guilt, but I kept going.

"That's when the eating disorder started," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I thought if I could be smaller, quieter, easier, then maybe I wouldn't feel like such a problem."

"Lydia..." Dad's voice was thick with emotion now.

"I tried to get better," I said quickly, the words tumbling out. "But then the suicidal thoughts started. I never told anyone because I didn't want to disappoint you."

Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I looked up to see Dad's eyes glistening too.

"You could never disappoint me," he said firmly.

"I feel like I already have," I whispered.

"You haven't," Dad said, his voice breaking. "Lydia, I'm so sorry. I should've been there for you. I didn't know..."

"I didn't want you to know," I said, wiping my eyes. "But now, I feel like everything's spiraling again, and I don't know how to stop it."

Buck finally spoke, his voice steady. "You stop it by talking to him, Lyds. By leaning on the people who care instead of trying to do everything alone."

Dad nodded, reaching across the coffee table to take my hand. "We'll figure it out, Lydia. I promise."

For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe again.