childhood. “Don’t you have homework this vacation?”
“Nope!” Joey folded his arms with his nose in the air. “All done. I did a family tree!”
“You did? Very cool!” I loaded up my plate as Joey nodded at me.
“Yep. I can show you. I have pictures and everything!” Joey’s baby blue eyes twinkled as he chomped on a piece of bread.
“I’d love to see it! You can show me later.”
“Do you ever see your real dad?”
My fork stilled in my hand and I tried to figure out how to answer.
“Just eat your dinner.” Mom gazed over at Joey as her eyes darted to me.
“My friend Dominic has two dads.” Joey went on, ignoring our mother. “He has a dad he lives with and one he sees on Saturdays. He gets two Christmases and two birthdays! He even makes two different Christmas lists.” He turned to me with wide eyes. “Do you make two lists?”
I let out a sad chuckle. Two Christmas lists? I didn’t even get a card from Marc. Dominic was a lucky little boy. He had a father who made sure to stay in his life and make things special. I laughed at the sting of jealousy I felt for a seven-year-old.
“I don’t see him for Christmas, Joey. I actually haven’t seen him since I was a little younger than you.”
“But he’s your real dad. Why don’t you see him?”
“ I’m Bella’s real dad,” Dad grumbled from across the table. “Just eat, Joe.”
I glanced at my little brother and my parents. His questions came from a simple place, but were on point. Why wouldn’t my father want to see me? I didn’t quite get it either.
The blood in my veins didn’t change because Lucas acted more like my father than Marc did. At the end of the day, I was Marc’s daughter and Joey was Lucas’s son. As much as our parents tried to dance around what he asked, the truth stayed the same.
We ate the rest of our dinner in silence. I didn’t look up, even though I felt the eyes of both my parents on me the entire time. Anytime the subject of Marc came up, my parents shut it down quickly, and then completely ignored that it was brought up in the first place. Joey wasn’t the only one in this house still treated like a baby.
After clearing the dishes off the table, I headed straight for my room and finally made the decision I’d been putting off for weeks. It was time to face where I really came from and get some answers. I opened my email, headed to my drafts folder, and sent the email to Marc.
My head turned to the soft knock at the door. I closed my laptop and quickly set it on my nightstand. It didn’t feel I was doing anything wrong speaking to Marc anymore, but I hated the secrecy of it.
“Come in!” I folded my legs under me and kept my head down. I was just as uneasy about Joey’s questions, but dodging them—like they’d dodged mine for years—was pointless and insulting.
“Hey, Butterfly. Can I sit?”
I nodded silently as Dad perched on the edge of my bed.
“Joey didn’t mean anything. He’s too young to understand.”
I huffed and met his gaze. “No, I think he understands perfectly. It’s you guys that like to pretend.”
“Pretend how, Bella?” His eyes narrowed at me and his jaw clenched.
“Marc is my father. Joey is your son. I’m not your kid and you aren’t my real father. It’s a simple truth. Why is it such a taboo subject in this house?”
Dad blinked before his face fell. It killed me to cut him to the quick, but it was the truth. It didn’t matter how much I wished I was really his daughter, or that I secretly wrote my name as ‘Isabella Hunter’ when I was little. Biology is definite, just like numbers. You can’t manipulate it to get a different answer.
“Is . . . that what you really think?” His voice was soft as he gazed at me with glossy blue eyes—the same blue eyes that Joey had. Not the shit brown ones my real father gave me.
I answered with a shrug and looked away. He stood from my bed and left my room. A lone tear streamed down my cheek; I bit
“Nope!” Joey folded his arms with his nose in the air. “All done. I did a family tree!”
“You did? Very cool!” I loaded up my plate as Joey nodded at me.
“Yep. I can show you. I have pictures and everything!” Joey’s baby blue eyes twinkled as he chomped on a piece of bread.
“I’d love to see it! You can show me later.”
“Do you ever see your real dad?”
My fork stilled in my hand and I tried to figure out how to answer.
“Just eat your dinner.” Mom gazed over at Joey as her eyes darted to me.
“My friend Dominic has two dads.” Joey went on, ignoring our mother. “He has a dad he lives with and one he sees on Saturdays. He gets two Christmases and two birthdays! He even makes two different Christmas lists.” He turned to me with wide eyes. “Do you make two lists?”
I let out a sad chuckle. Two Christmas lists? I didn’t even get a card from Marc. Dominic was a lucky little boy. He had a father who made sure to stay in his life and make things special. I laughed at the sting of jealousy I felt for a seven-year-old.
“I don’t see him for Christmas, Joey. I actually haven’t seen him since I was a little younger than you.”
“But he’s your real dad. Why don’t you see him?”
“ I’m Bella’s real dad,” Dad grumbled from across the table. “Just eat, Joe.”
I glanced at my little brother and my parents. His questions came from a simple place, but were on point. Why wouldn’t my father want to see me? I didn’t quite get it either.
The blood in my veins didn’t change because Lucas acted more like my father than Marc did. At the end of the day, I was Marc’s daughter and Joey was Lucas’s son. As much as our parents tried to dance around what he asked, the truth stayed the same.
We ate the rest of our dinner in silence. I didn’t look up, even though I felt the eyes of both my parents on me the entire time. Anytime the subject of Marc came up, my parents shut it down quickly, and then completely ignored that it was brought up in the first place. Joey wasn’t the only one in this house still treated like a baby.
After clearing the dishes off the table, I headed straight for my room and finally made the decision I’d been putting off for weeks. It was time to face where I really came from and get some answers. I opened my email, headed to my drafts folder, and sent the email to Marc.
My head turned to the soft knock at the door. I closed my laptop and quickly set it on my nightstand. It didn’t feel I was doing anything wrong speaking to Marc anymore, but I hated the secrecy of it.
“Come in!” I folded my legs under me and kept my head down. I was just as uneasy about Joey’s questions, but dodging them—like they’d dodged mine for years—was pointless and insulting.
“Hey, Butterfly. Can I sit?”
I nodded silently as Dad perched on the edge of my bed.
“Joey didn’t mean anything. He’s too young to understand.”
I huffed and met his gaze. “No, I think he understands perfectly. It’s you guys that like to pretend.”
“Pretend how, Bella?” His eyes narrowed at me and his jaw clenched.
“Marc is my father. Joey is your son. I’m not your kid and you aren’t my real father. It’s a simple truth. Why is it such a taboo subject in this house?”
Dad blinked before his face fell. It killed me to cut him to the quick, but it was the truth. It didn’t matter how much I wished I was really his daughter, or that I secretly wrote my name as ‘Isabella Hunter’ when I was little. Biology is definite, just like numbers. You can’t manipulate it to get a different answer.
“Is . . . that what you really think?” His voice was soft as he gazed at me with glossy blue eyes—the same blue eyes that Joey had. Not the shit brown ones my real father gave me.
I answered with a shrug and looked away. He stood from my bed and left my room. A lone tear streamed down my cheek; I bit
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