Page 142 of Untying the Knot
“I was one second late. I was finishing a call.”
“With that boyfriend of yours who is just like your father.”
“No, he’s not,” I say.
“Oh, no? Then where is he? Playing baseball? Your father’s work came first too, you know. I was pushed to the back. So were you. A man’s job will always come first. Always. Best you realize that now before you’re in too deep with the man.”
“Are you ready?” Nichole calls out, approaching with a stern look on her face.
I glance over my shoulder and nod. But before I leave, I say, “I don’t believe you about Dad. There is no way he had a second family.”
She points to the right. “See those two men over there? Those are his sons. And the woman next to them, that’s Miranda, his mistress. Don’t believe me, just go ask.”
I look over and see three people standing together, waiting for their last goodbyes.
“What is she talking about?” Nichole asks.
And I don’t know what it is, maybe the pain slicing through me, or the need to clear the air, but I find myself walking over to them with purposeful strides. And as I draw closer and closer, I realize the men I’m walking toward have a very distinct look about them . . . those bushy eyebrows, the blue eyes, the tall, lanky stature.
My strides slow down, and when I’m a few feet away, I whisper, “Is it true?”
The men exchange glances, and before they can answer, the woman steps up. “You must be Myla.”
Hands shaking, voice about to break, I ask, “And who the hell are you?”
Their expressions are sympathetic as the woman steps even closer. “I’m going to assume your mom just told you about us.”
“No.” I shake my head. “No, it’s not fucking true. Tell me you’re not my dad’s other family.”
“I’m sorry, Myla,” Miranda says. “It wasn’t . . . it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“Holy . . . fuck,” I say as I move away from them, gripping my head in total confusion.
“Myla, please, let us talk.”
“No . . . no.” I continue to shake my head and then look up at the woman. I point and mutter, “Fuck you. Do you . . . do you realize what you did to me? What my dad did to me? Who youbothleft me with? I grew up with a monster because you couldn’t understand the fact that my dad was a married man. That he couldn’t understand that he had a daughter who desperately needed him.” I shake my head again. “No. There will be no talking. I want nothing to do with you. Fuck you, all of you.”
And then I turn on my heel and head right into Nichole’s arms.
“Want me to take you home?”
“Yes, get me the hell out of here.”
* * *
“You know I love you, right?”Nichole asks as she brushes my hair away from my face.
When we got back to our shared townhome, she took me up to my room and let me cry on her lap until I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was morning, and I still hadn’t moved.
“I know,” I whisper, my throat feeling tight, hoarse from all the crying. “You might be the only one in my life who does.”
“Have you spoken to Ryot?”
I shake my head. “No. And I don’t want to.”
“Why?” she asks.
“Because . . . what’s the point? My mom was right. He’s going to put baseball first. Every time. I can’t compete with that.”
