Save Me

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

My father once told me that he didn't need to teach me to take care of myself because he could tell that I would always be able to.

During a conversation at the dinner table, me seated across from my father with my mother seated beside him, she would risk glances between us as we carried the weight of the conversation. My mother was always more observant than involved, and since she and my father got on so well, she was in agreement with most things he did.

We were messing around, talking about me trying out for the football team in middle school since I knew so much about it from sitting beside my father during Sunday night's NFL games and knew every player and their stats from the 49ers. He told me I should just go for it and try out for the team, screw gender roles -to which my mother gave him a pointed glance and he looked away guiltily. I laughed it off, thinking he was truly joking since the idea of a twelve year old girl playing football with guys twice my size wasn't appealing.

I told him my fears of being crushed or picked on by the boys, briefly living on the idea of being on all all boys football team. My father listened to my pretend fears since I wasn't truly invested in the idea, and a solemn look appeared on his face.

"Athena," he started, his voice serious to me, but all talk to my mother. "There's a reason I taught you how to carry a ball and not tackle an opponent. You can handle yourself, not just with boys, but with anybody. If you truly want to play football, then we'll make it happen."

I was joking throughout the conversation, but the seriousness in my father's words made me question if I really wanted to prove my strength, maybe not then, but someday. Used to my father's ability to turn a conversation from joking to serious to a lecture on a life lesson, my mother rolled her eyes and carried out a new conversation on school work.

If my father could see me now, he'd be devastated. Heartbroken. Destroyed.

He raised me to be strong and take care of my own, not just from boys who wanted to kiss me as quickly as they forgot my name or from girls who couldn't keep the judgement out of their expression. He wanted me to stand up for myself to anyone, even family, despite my unwillingness to call Luke just that.

I stare at the back of his Mercedes parked in front of me in the driveway, wondering if my father died not knowing who his daughter truly is. He was so sure that I was strong and powerful and courageous, but faced with the slightest inconvenience and I was no longer -if ever- any of those things. I'm a coward, I'm weak and I'm a failure.

There's a sizeable dent in Luke's back bumper, in the corner beneath the taillight like he ran into something while backing up. More and more signs keep appearing, flashing vibrantly that Danger Lies Ahead and This Road Has No Outlet, but somehow I'm the only one who sees it.

Or maybe I'm just the only one who cares.

I hate admitting that I care about someone as evil and vile as Luke, but I can't forget the time I thought I was no longer an only child. After the devastating loss of my father, I wanted to look at my mother's new marriage as a hopeful sign that things could get better. Bill was overall friendly and kind, although he preferred to avoid me at all costs. Luke was distant, but not completely cold directly after the wedding, leading me to believe that we both just needed some time to heal before we could become a family.

I like to think that if my father's death wasn't so raw and traumatizing, that Luke wouldn't have had such an impact on me. He saw me as the perfect victim; a baby deer lost with fresh wounds that needed tender love and care. I saw a bear, intimidating at first, but protective of its own kind. We were both so sick mentally and emotionally and found release in each others presence that maybe part of this is my fault. Maybe I've been the Mama bear all along and Luke was the sick deer that needed help.