6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You by Kelly Siskind

Author:Kelly Siskind [Siskind, Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CD Books
Published: 2023-05-02T16:00:00+00:00

An hour later, I’m at the top of Hood Rock, wearing the warmer vest and cargo pants I keep handy in my truck. I rig my anchor and rope for a self-belay. Once it’s all set, I return to the bottom, hook myself up with my belay, and focus on my breathing.

Slowly, I start to climb.

I don’t know why I can deal with heights, but not cramped spaces. I don’t know how my father can work so hard to forgive himself, but not to know or understand me. Did I fabricate our relationship in my head? Did he actually find our time together tiresome and not fun? Is there something inherently wrong with me that makes me unlovable? Maggie refused to acknowledge me in high school. Mizhir and my high school buddies didn’t keep in touch at college. My father distanced himself at the end of our time together and doesn’t miss our bond.

Inadequacy. That’s the feeling propelling me up this rock face. Unworthiness.

Acquaintance to many, close friend to none.

Toes. Fingers. Grip. Pull.

I move up the climb, pausing to take the slack out of my rope, using leverage and handholds to propel me. Gradually, the cool rock chills the heat rushing in my veins. The burn in my forearms and calves takes over the busyness in my head. I’m nothing but a body in motion in moments like this, defying gravity, leaning on Mother Nature. She’s always here for me. Unconditional acceptance in her sprawling arms.

I sit at the top for a while, the late-November air turning my sweat clammy. I do nothing but breathe and listen. Absorb the stillness and quiet forest chatter, the steady pound of my pulse, but I’m not as relaxed as I hoped. The closure I expected from this meeting feels out of reach. Maybe it was my parting words. Telling my father he’s forgiven in perpetuity wasn’t my strongest comeback. And I hate the money he offered—the temptation of it and how dirty it makes me feel. Not that it matters. What’s done is done. I won’t use that cash, and I never have to miss him again or wonder if he cares.

In a day or two, this gnawing unease will fade.

Once I’m down, I load my truck and hit the road. The sun starts to lower on my drive. By the time I turn down the long drive to my rented farmhouse, I’m exhausted, emotionally and physically. I’ll nuke some frozen pizza. Stuff my face, then pass out early and hopefully sleep like the dead.

Just thinking about hitting the hay has me yawning, until I notice a white Jeep in front of my house. I clamp my mouth shut and search my property. It doesn’t take long for me to see red. Specifically, Maggie’s red jacket, her fire-red hair, and her beet-red Die Motherfucker Face as she tries to murder me with her eyes.

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