Page 11 of One Wrong Step
Chapter Four
Jonah
My dad is standing at the bottom of the stairs, and it helps deflate my confused dick. But it doesn’t help the rest of me. As I descend the stairs, they seem to narrow to the same point. Dad. The picture on the wall to his left shows my grandparents standing proudly in front of the farmhouse. The picture underneath it is of me at five years old on a rusted tractor. In the picture, my dad stands proudly beside me.
My chest tightens, making it difficult to breathe, as if the guilt is suffocating me. I almost turn around and jog back up the stairs. Toward what? Vivian? God, I’d been so angry. But that didn’t excuse the way I treated him. Not letting him leave. Pressing him against the door. And then he moved his legs and—fuck.
Get your shit together, Jonah.
Focusing on my dad’s face, I jog slowly down the stairs. When I reach the bottom, I give him a side-hug. “Hey, Dad. Good to see you.”
His eyes study my face. “What’s going on?”
Shit.My heart races. Did he hear me fighting with Vivian? Did Carolynda say something? “Um, nothing.”
“Your face says something differently.” He frowns. “And you’re too thin. Are you eating?”
My body relaxes. This is Dad being Dad. When Mom left, he started mothering me—Nat would tell me that’s misogynistic. Men can be caretakers too.
Dad has always tried to make up for my mom deserting us.
“I’m fine, Dad.”
“It’d be easier to believe if you came home more often,” he says, leading me into the living room.
“Daddy,” Maisy says, “I’m a dragon!” She runs around the room as if to prove it, and then she throws herself into his arms. He laughs and picks her up.
I admit, I wasn’t a Carolynda fan at first. I wanted my dad to be happy, but why did that have to include a whole new family?
Carolynda smiles and puts down the streamers she’s attaching to balloons. She kisses Dad, and they both grin at each other. Will I ever find someone who looks at me like that? Doubtful.
“How is the party planning going?” Dad asks.
“It’s going.” But her smile drops a little.
“How are you feeling?”
The wording seems strange. Or is it the way he says it? Has Carolynda been sick?
Maisy tugs on Dad’s sleeve. “Mommy sad.”
The air is sucked out of the room as Dad squints at Maisy and then Carolynda. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing.” Carolynda waves her hand and laughs. “You know how emotional I get.”
Except that Carolynda is a lot like her son. Her emotions are usually locked down tight.
“Vivian made Mommy cry.”
Ohhh shit.“Hey, Squirt,” I say quickly, trying to stop the impending avalanche. “You want to help me blow up balloons?”
This isn’t about protecting Vivian. He doesn’t need or want my help. I learned that long ago. And I’m sure Carolynda will tell Dad whatever she wants, whenever she wants.
Dad follows her into the kitchen, confirming my suspicions. Maisy and I blow up balloons, and then I let the air out again and she giggles. We manage to get some inflated before Dad and Carolynda return to the living room. They stand close. United. It feels that way, at least. But united against what?
I briefly consider talking to Vivian about how weird our parents are being. But I know how that will go.
Maisy runs over to them, and Dad ruffles her hair.
