All of Me

eighteen • father

• • •

The drive home from the beach is maybe only three minutes but it feels like an eternity that I'm sitting in the passenger seat next to Tad, who won't say a word. I don't know what's going on and my throat is frozen, constricting around any words I could form. I've gone totally numb, rooted to the seat, but my mind is flying.

It's about Dad. It has to be. Unless something has happened to Kris. But Tad wouldn't have said that Mom's ok if something had happened to Kris because she would be absolutely inconsolable, and if it was something good then Tad wouldn't be so shaken. I know Kris is ok. I know Mom is ok. I know Tad looks upset.

It has to be about Dad.

I just don't know what, and Tad won't say anything. I asked when we got in the car but he just told me that it's not his place to say, and he squeezed my hand. It felt strange. Not bad. Just different. He has never done that before. He and Mom may be dating now but he and I have never spent much time together. I guess that'll change now.

I glance across at him as we get closer to home and he looks so distraught, and all of Mom's hope over the past two years hits me. Maybe Dad's alive. Maybe my life is about to be thrown upside down again. My eyes linger on Tad. His knuckles are white, fingers tight around the steering wheel, his eyes wet. Maybe he's just lost his girlfriend to her husband.

The thought makes me sick. Not the thought that Dad's alive – I'd give anything for him to be alive, to have my father and my family back – but the fact that if he is, nothing can ever be normal again. He's been gone so long. We've moved on, and it has been so painful. I can't think of much worse than Dad showing up again only to be a stranger in his own family.

I really think I'm about to throw up and I have to clamp my hand over my mouth and focus on breathing in and out when we reach out street. Tad slows. I see my house. I see an unfamiliar car parked next to mine in the driveway and I can't breathe. My lungs have turned to concrete.

When Tad comes to a stop, I can't move. He puts his hand on my knee and gives me a smile, but it's not in his eyes.

"You need to go in," he says, his voice softer than before.

My eyes are fixed on the black car that doesn't belong. Tad reaches across to unbuckle my seatbelt for me. Gray leans forward, poking his head between the two seats. His face is so close to mine that I can feel his breath on my cold shoulder. I'm still in my swimsuit, the tight straps digging into my flesh, and my skin prickles.

I can't go in like this, wet and dripping and barely dressed. My shorts are in here somewhere, but I don't know where and I can't bring myself to look, but then they're in my lap, dropped there by Gray. He can read my mind, I swear.

"Want me to come in with you?" he asks, his voice low and warm and reassuring.

"No," Tad says before I can reply. My throat is too thick to respond, my mouth too dry. It feels as though my tongue has been replaced with cotton. "Storie needs to go in and we need to go home, Gray."

He doesn't argue. He just nods and gets out and opens my door for me, and he gives me a hand when I can't get my legs to cooperate. He knows as much as I do, and I bet he knows how much of a mess my head is right now, so he just gives me a damp hug and a smile.

"I'll be right next door," he says, tipping his head at his own house. I nod and he squeezes my hand and lets go. Tad gives me a strained smile and then puts his hand on Gray's shoulder, and they go to their house. I have to go inside. Mom's in there. She probably asked Tad to get me.