Page 53 of The Lucky One
Six years ago...
Papa kept saying I should come over every weekend, but I told him I only wanted to go every other week. Staying in his big house was kinda cool compared to our tiny apartment, but it felt super lonely. At Mama’s, Richard always took us on adventures. Like a month ago, we went to a lake and paddled a canoe. And the other week, he took us out for dinner and then to the movies. He treated Mama, Lucas and me so well, way better than Papa ever did. I guess I liked him, even though he had this gray hair that made him look a bit like my grandpa.
When I headed downstairs to let Papa know I was hungry, he yelled, “Fuck!” and threw some papers on the ground. I flinched, wanting to run back upstairs, but he had already seen me. There were a bunch of empty bottles on the dining table and a burning cigarette in the overflowing ashtray. Now he smoked all over the house, and I always smelled like it when I got back home.
“What’s wrong, Papa?” I asked, but he just glared at me with his nostrils all wide. “Your mother is out of her mind,” he said.
I bit my lip. Mama never said bad stuff about him. “I don’t think so,” I said. Pitus trotted over and rubbed his head against my hand. I leaned down and hugged him.
“I gave up my job because they moved to Berlin to spend more time with you,” Papa reminded me, like he did every time I visited. “I might have to sell the house to give your mother what she wants because I can’t afford it anymore. And you only come every other weekend. You spend more time with this Richard than me. How do you expect me to stay calm in all of this?” He grabbed a bottle that wasn’t empty yet and chugged it down.
I buried my nose in my dog’s fur. It was all my fault. “I’m sorry, Papa.” I didn’t want to cry but tears came out anyway.
One night I had overheard Mama talking to Richard. She was working so much, she barely had time for us anymore. Papa wasn’t paying any child support and she was only asking for the minimum.
But even the minimum was too much for my papa. Did he even love me?
Now...
After dinner, Jon and I hung out with Lauren, who eventually fell asleep—or so Tim thought. The truth was, she was invited to her first party and begged Jon to drive her over and pick her up at midnight. Jon tried to talk her out of it but eventually agreed: she would find a way to go anyway. After all, she shared the rule-breaker gene with him. Lauren blew him a kiss over the couch and Jon acted as if it had flown too far, chasing after it through the living room. I loved how he was with his sister. It reminded me of how Lucas treated me.
Now we were in Jon’s room, keeping the basement door open, of course. I’d been following every one of Gena’s rules, but it was getting harder and harder. Jon was shirtless, and I was only in my bra and leggings. We had been kissing intensely, losing control for a second before mutually deciding on a break. Lying with my head on his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat and breathing in his smoky scent, I wanted to savor every moment with him. We submerged ourselves in our black books, writing, reading and exchanging smiles with our eyes in between.
“Do you want to go to prom?” I asked without any preamble.
Jon looked up from his notebook. In the dim light of the basement, his face was partially obscured by shadows. “You’re already thinking about that crap?”
I frowned, absentmindedly tracing patterns on his chest. “It’s not crap! It’s a celebration of your graduation, the beginning of a new chapter.”
Jon barked out a laugh. “For most people it’s just a special enough occasion to finally fuck.”
“Jon!” I protested. He had the wrong idea about prom. “Seriously, I want to go.”
He sighed, sucking in his lip, then tilted his head. “Fine, if I manage to graduate and get tickets, maybe we’ll go.”
A broad smile came to my lips. “Will I get a promposal?”
“Hypothetically speaking, if I got those tickets, would you really want me to answer that and spoil a possible surprise?” A glimmer of mischief played in the faint smirk on his lips.
I considered this for a moment, twirling a strand of my hair. I hated surprises but I knew Jon loved making them, which was more important. “You’re right. Don’t tell me.”
He nodded and lifted up his book again.
“Can I ask you something else?”
He put the book down with a groan. “You and all your questions.” But there was still a playful glint in his expression.
“You knew that about me before we started dating,” I said, nudging his chest and giggling.
“Fine, you can ask a question, but it depends on which one.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Hey, if you asked me to give you a kidney, I don’t—” He paused, his gaze wandering around the room before settling on me. “Actually, no. I would give you a kidney.”
“Such a romantic.” I kissed the top of his nose. Brushing a curl out of his face, I dipped one toe into a delicate topic like it was cold water. “I bet Danielle would love to give you a haircut...”
“She’d probably love to get close to me with scissors.” Jon scowled, his fingers running small circles over my back.