“You know my grades are great. School is nice. Finally got along with my roommate,” I informed him.

His eyes expanded. “Good. I know how hard it is for you to make friends. Speaking of, where’s the little girl? You know, the one you grew up with from across the street?”

“Izzy?”

“Yeah, her!”

“Izzy is spending her summer at a camp. She volunteered to help some kids near her school.”

“Oh. How nice of her.” He placed his hand on my forearm, shaking his head. “You know you didn’t have to come watch over me. That’s what I have Margie for.”

“No, Dad,” I said as his lips pressed. I squeezed the hand that was on my arm. “I needed to come back. It’s been a while. Plus, I missed you.” I took a swift look around the room. “I missed being home.”

“And you know I missed you.” His smile was genuine.

I scrunched my nose and looked at the TV while Margie placed the tray on his lap. “Since when did you start watching golf?”

“You kidding? I watch golf all the time? You remember when you used to come to the golf courses with Uncle Clay and me? You loved it!”

“That was so long ago,” I laughed. “And you didn’t watch golf back then unless it was in person.”

“Same thing. But you remember, right?”

“Of course I do.” I was surprised he could.

“See.” His eyes lit up as he picked up his spoon.

My face stiffened as I watched him try to eat his soup with the handle instead of the ladle of the spoon itself. And what hurt most to watch was him thinking he was doing it correctly, struggling to slurp tiny droplets. I glanced at Margie who stood in the corner, ready to come to his aid, but I shook my head, grabbing the spoon and fixing it for him.

He didn’t say anything. I was surprised he allowed the assistance. I guess he was tired of struggling to eat. After catching up with him a little further, I let Dad eat the rest of his soup in peace. I told him I was going to my room to take a quick shower.

That quick shower turned into two hours of moping in my bedroom and checking my laptop for final grades. I refreshed the page frequently, but nothing appeared on the portal.

Before I knew it, darkness had fallen, and when I went back to check on Dad, he was sound asleep. Margie informed me that she would be downstairs tidying up. After cleaning, I heard the TV turn on in the living room. Then, an hour and a half later, I heard her come back up, check on my father, and then enter the guest room.  This was obviously the usual routine. She could hear if my dad needed her through the monitor she carried.

It saddened me to see him this way—almost like a helpless child. It made my heart ache. I wanted to weep for him, but Dad hated tears. He hated to see his girls down. I sucked it up, turning off my lamp and lying flat on my back, gazing up at the glowing stars on my ceiling.

I remembered the day Izzy and I put them up there, bouncing on the bed with our palms flat, sticky side of the stars up. I was a little taller, so I got more up than she did. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure she only got three of the ten up there. There are stars on her ceiling too. We shared the package.

Headlights flashed across my wall, and my thoughts were interrupted. I sat up, my heart catching speed, knowing the lights usually only came from one direction.

The Blacks’ house.

Walking towards the window, I placed a single finger behind the curtain and peeked out. A black Dodge Charger with matte black rims and LED headlights parked in the Blacks’ driveway. With my curiosity getting the best of me, I continued watching. I’d never seen the car before.

Another new toy of his?

Finally, the passenger door opened and a young girl that looked about two or three years older than me stepped out, fluffing her blonde hair. She said something as she ducked down and looked inside the car again.

I frowned. From where I stood, she was beautiful. Her makeup flawless, the streetlights reflecting off her nose ring. Her lips were full, body slender in a gold club type dress. Her wavy blonde hair swam to the middle of her back, her high heels making her appear way taller than she was. She walked around the car, and the driver door swung open. And out stepped none other than Mr. Black.

So… that was his girl toy, huh?

All of my questions were answered in that single moment.

She had blonde hair.

No, her butt wasn’t bigger than mine, but she definitely did a daily routine of squats.

I wouldn’t say she was prettier than me, but we were kind of on the same scale. She just wore more make up, so she could have been less attractive beneath the layers.

Her legs looked better, though.

And her hair was obviously styled by an expensive hairstylist.

She reminded me of a knock-off Mrs. Black. It was depressing to think he’d searched for someone that reminded him of his deceased wife.

Theo stumbled out of the car in a drunken manner, shutting and locking the car behind him and then following after the girl to get to the house. Before they made it inside, his arms draped around her waist from behind and his lips pressed on the bend of her neck. His laughter was loud, but she was clearly irritated with the state he was in.

I felt somewhat sorry for her because I knew exactly what she was dealing with—only, I didn’t think it was that bad dealing with a drunk Theo Black. She treated him like a child, brushing him aside, scolding him, and demanding him to get it together. He wasn’t obnoxious, but he could get annoying when you attempted to help him.

They entered the house, and the door shut behind them. My eyes remained glued on the house, watching a few lights turn on. Shadows passed by the windows, their silhouettes getting higher as they made it up the stairs.

The bedroom lights were the last to flicker on. Their silhouettes stumbled in front of the window, lips glued. My heart pounded in my chest, my eyes unfortunately wet. I swallowed the thick lump in my throat, trying to force myself to look away, but I couldn’t.

I felt pieces of my heart snapping off, my insecurities increasing. How could I feel like this? Why did it hurt so much to see? It had been so long, but apparently time couldn’t even take away my feelings for him.

They made out for quite some time. And I don’t know why the hell I couldn’t pull away. It was like watching a train wreck. It was heartbreaking, but I couldn’t help but look. She was clearly over her bitching and whining, divulging in Theo’s embrace, hot kisses, and hard, delicious body. It was easy to look over the way he acted once you caught sight of him.

Finally, they stumbled away from the window, shadows disappearing. I was over the edge, nervous, waiting for something to happen. I wanted her to argue, back out of the make-out session. Leave the house. Take the Charger and go. Leave him alone. Something bad needed to happen. Right now.

And it finally did.

Only, it wasn’t bad for them.

It was bad for me.

The lights turned off and it was obvious what was about to go down. He was staking his claim. He was doing the very thing I hoped he wouldn’t.

Making her, his.

I stepped away from the window, my heart barely beating. Why it hurt me so much to see after so many months without him, I do not know. I mean, after all, I was the one that left him hanging in the driveway before I went to school. I was the one that avoided him and didn’t bother trying to speak to him for three years. I was the one that fucked up, so why be upset? Why let knowing he’d moved on hurt me?

I shrunk in my bed, staring at the wall across from me. It took a while to fall asleep, but I managed and, of course, it was just my luck that after what felt like months, I dreamt of Theo Black again.

All of his masculine glory.