Oliver Ausman Lives Again

thirty one

I slam the door shut behind me and stomp down the porch steps, tears blurring my vision. My feet kick up dirt as I head down the path, storming away from the house. I'm not trying to be so harsh, I just can't help it. My body has a mind of its own, controlled by how much the past ten minutes hurt.

My stomach lurches at the knowledge that I'm going to have to explain everything to everyone-- my tears, why I'm back so soon, what happened. I don't want to talk about it, ever. All I want is to be home, in bed, and to stay there for the next month. I want to pretend this whole thing never happened. 

As I round the bend and pass the tall bushes that line the walk to Isaac's porch, I notice that only Kat is waiting for me, leaning against the Firebird and biting her nails, expression blank as she stares out at the woods surrounding the property. Peter's rental car is gone, as are him and Charlie.

She hears my footsteps and perks up, turning to me, face instantly falling into worry. "Oliver?" 

Kat pushes off of the car, but hesitates there. She's looking at me like she's trying to understand what's wrong, like she's searching for some external explanation, hoping the obvious reasons aren't the right ones. 

Tears are still falling from my eyes, so persistent that I know it'd be useless to try to stop them or hide them. I'm too embarrassed to get closer to her, so I just stop walking and shake my head, shrugging, hoping my actions display the words I can't say. It wasn't what I thought it would be. It wasn't what I wanted.

Kat hurries over and guides me against her by my shoulders, wrapping me in a hug that only makes me cry harder. I bury my face against her neck, wishing I could stop sobbing, stop making a fool of myself. One of her hands rubs my back, slow and steady, attempting to soothe me. 

Isaac didn't even hug me, I realize. A father, seeing his child for the first time: no hug, no happy tears, no excitement. He didn't follow me out. He didn't even try to stop me.

"Oliver, what happened?" Kat asks, her voice soft next to my ear, filled with concern.

I take in a shuddering breath. "He knew. He knew, he knew, he always knew I was his kid." The words are so whiney, so stuffy and choked up that I don't even sound like myself. 

I pull away from the hug and Kat steps back, still looking at me with worried eyes. I wipe at my face with my sleeves. My sleeves, which cover my arms, which means Isaac didn't see my scars, and never will. Just another thing I imagined him caring about. 

It gives me another wave of that damn-it-all-to-hell sadness. This whole thing was a waste of time and I just want it to be over. Fuck Isaac and fuck this stupid trip. What the hell was I expecting? For me to tell him the truth and for him to welcome me into his life with open arms? Yeah right. 

I finish cleaning my face and take a second to steady my breathing. It's over. I screwed up, I came here, and there's nothing I can do about it now.