Ever: a novel by Liz Czukas

Author:Liz Czukas [Czukas, Liz]
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter Twenty-Two

My mom goes to bed long before the rest of us. Brea’s practically asleep on the table by the time Dad calls an end of Casino Night. I’m pretty blurry-eyed myself and I’m about to disappear upstairs (I want to text Gwen, see if she’s still awake) when Dad puts a hand on my arm.

“Hang back a minute, kiddo.”

I wonder if I’ll ever outgrow being called kiddo.

The girls go in and out for a couple of minutes, getting a glass of water, or looking for misplaced cell phones (Cassie). I stall with a glass of water of my own and an ice pack. I may have healed my wrist and shin, but there is never a day in my life I don’t have something, somewhere on my body that will be improved by twenty minutes of icing (doesn’t make me want to quit diving, though).

“Where’d you hurt yourself?” Dad asks.

I do a quick mental once-over to decide which spot needs ice the most. “Neck.”

His eyebrow goes up (guess where we all get it from?). “You look all right.”

“Honestly? It’s kind of a habit. Helps me fall asleep.” I bend the blue pack a few times to break up the crystals. “This is just a gel pack anyway. Not enough for anything that actually hurts.”

He shakes his head. “You make me nervous, kiddo.”

I shrug. “I’m fine.”

“Your mom tells me you’ve been a little off.”

“How so?” I lean on the counter. He’s still sitting, but I’m not prepared to commit to this conversation enough for a chair.

“Not yourself. She says you won’t talk to her about whatever’s got you feeling like this. Is there anything you want to talk to me about?”

Yes. And no. “I don’t think so.”

He nods. “Is it a girl?”

Not anymore. “Dad, I’m fine.” I’ve already decided I’m not saying anything to him about Mom, so he might as well give up.

He checks over his shoulder and lowers his voice. “You didn’t get the Murphy girl pregnant, did you?”

“What? Dad, no! Jesus!” My legs feel like they’re going to give out. How the hell does he know about Gwen? We’re not exactly advertising to our parents.

“Hey, I’m just saying—things happen. What if you were just waiting for someone to ask the right question?”

“Why would that be the right question?”

He shrugs. “It’s not someone else, is it?”

“No! No one’s pregnant. I’m not-- For fuck’s sake, Dad!” I’m so shocked I don’t even think twice about saying ‘fuck’ to my father (that’s more my mom’s thing anyway).

“All right.” He puts out one steadying hand. “I’m sorry I asked.”

“Can I go to bed now?” I ask. “My ice is thawing.”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I hightail it out of there, wondering if I’ll ever sleep again. I don’t care how rarely I see him, I am not comfortable discussing my (technically non-existent) sex life with my father. I need eye bleach. Ear bleach. Brain bleach. Ugh.

I have to settle for brushing my teeth extra hard and splashing cold water on my face.

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