Page 125 of The Fast Lane
Mom gasped and clutched my hand.
Dad slumped. “I didn’t mean?—”
“We can say we tried, and it didn’t work out. I’d like to stay for the wedding, and then you don’t ever have to see me again.” Abe stalked toward the door. I stood, trying to get my mouth to open to tell him to stop, but I couldn’t seem to make my throat work.
“Run away again,” Dad bit out. “That solved nothing eleven years ago, and it won’t solve anything now.”
“Dammit, Dad.” Abe whipped around. “What do you want me to do? If I stay, you’re upset. If I leave, you’re upset. There’s no good choice for me.” He pointed to the bed. “Mom is crying. I don’t want to make Mom cry, I don’t want to run away. Last time, I left because it was the only thing I could do.”
The two of them stared each other down, a strange mix of yearning and anger rolling off them in waves. Mack was right, they were too much alike. Abe was a younger version of Dad. I hoped for, no, I needed these two to find common ground. I wanted Abe back in our lives, but they couldn’t keep circling each other like wounded animals, lashing out to hide their soft underbellies.
I licked my very dry lips. While that accident didn’t start all this, it had played a part in widening this rift between them. I had to do this. I said a prayer and then I spoke.
“It’s not Abe’s fault.”
Abe scowled. “Ali, stay out of thi?—”
“No.” I slashed a hand through the air in frustration. “No. I’m not going to anymore. Cal wanted so badly for Abe to be here, for our family to be together, and you are both so stubborn that you can’t figure out how to admit when you’re wrong.”
“Alicia, honey,” Mom said. “You know getting upset can trigger…”
“…a seizure? Yeah, yeah, I know. Oh, God, do I know it. You never let me forget. I’ve lived with epilepsy for over a decade and guess what, I’m doing just fine. I’m trying so hard to live my life but…” I forced myself to take a calming breath. “You’d think the hardest part of dealing with it is that I never know when I’ll have another one. But that’s not it. You know what keeps me awake at night? Feeling guilty because I have so many people worried about me.”
I swiped at my cheeks, annoyed I’d started crying without realizing it.
“I want to live my life. I can’t keep hiding out in my apartment or answering your calls twice a day. I can’t keep worrying that you’re worrying.” I straightened. “I am not broken.”
Mom’s head jerked in surprise. “Of course you aren’t broken.”
“Then stop treating me like I am.” Before she could answer, and since I was on a roll, I turned on my heels and faced my father. “Did you know Abe has dyslexia?”
Abe grunted. “Ali.”
“Shut it. Stop trying to be an enigma and talk to your parents.”
“Is that true?” Mom asked.
He nodded once. “I found out when I took some business classes in community college.”
“That’s why school was so hard for him,” I said. “That’s why he struggled. It wasn’t because he was lazy or not trying hard enough.”
Dad flinched at that. Good. Maybe something would get into that head of his. But I wasn’t done yet.
“And the car accident?” Say it, Ramos. You can do this. “It wasn’t Abe’s fault.”
“Yes, it was.” Abe’s eyes drilled into my head; I ignored him.
“No, it wasn’t. I was driving the car. I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but I begged him to let me.”
A wave of exhaustion hit me, and it had nothing to do with lack of sleep. It was as though my body had been using so much energy holding this in for years and had finally found relief. “I was so angry at everything. The seizures, giving up almost all my independence, you and Dad with all the rules.”
“The rules were to keep you safe.”
“I couldn’t drive or spend the night at friends’ houses or go swimming without it being a big ordeal. I had to have someone come with me when I checked the mail at the end of the driveway.”
Mom winced. “We didn’t know when you’d have another one.”
“I understand. As an adult, I get it. But I hated it. All the decisions were out of my hands. It made me so angry. So, yeah, I begged Abe to let me drive the car and he did.”