Painted Memories by Loni Flowers Page A

come to terms that it was only an accident.” I heard him sniff and imagined him wiping his eyes, which was dumb. My dad rarely shed any tears.  “Dad, can't you learn to accept what happened and stop trying to blame everything... especially me?”
    “Lilly? Is everything all right?” I heard from behind me. I spun around to find Drew with concern etched in his eyes. I didn't speak as I waited for my dad's response. Drew took a step closer, assessing my expression, but I stepped back to keep the distance between us. I had to avoid this confrontation. I was teetering on an emotional seesaw and one more step to try and comfort me would send me over the edge.
    I heard a clink through the phone and knew Dad was lifting a glass of scotch to his mouth. When he spoke again, it was slow and precise; as if he were making sure I understood every word.
    “You know, Jesse had so much to live for.” His words were soft, yet rigid.
    “I know he did,” I answered.
    “He was going to be a lawyer, take over the firm, have a family, children.”
    “I know,” I whispered. Tears slid down my cheeks when I closed my eyes. I knew where this was going. I'd heard it before, how Jesse didn't get to live his life; and every time I thought about it, it made my heart ache. I opened my eyes to see Drew staring at me. He moved closer and reached out, placing his hand on my upper arm. I shrugged it off and shook my head at him. He remained frozen in front of me, and I knew he wouldn’t let this go. Eventually, I'd have to talk to him.
    “You say you know, but do you really? You!” my dad said forcibly, “You took all of that away from him, away from me! And look at you now... teaching snotty-nosed kids. Jesse was going to do great things with his life, and the only thing you've accomplished is babysitting a bunch of brats.”
    With every insult came more tears. “Shut up!” I yelled. “You don't mean it. You can't... you've had too much to drink and you're going to regret this later, Dad.”
    “No, Lilly, my only regret was that Jesse died that day and not you.”
    I sucked in a sharp breath. If the knife through my heart wasn't deep enough when I lost Jesse, he pushed it right up to the hilt. I knew deep down he couldn't have possibly meant what he said, but it didn't stop me from thinking that maybe he did . “I'm sorry you feel that way,” I said, trying to steady my voice and conceal my tear-streaked face.
    “I'm not sorry, not one bit.”
    The phone disconnected. He hung up on me after getting the last word, like he always did. It pissed me off that he could call me whenever he felt like it, and tell me he wished I were dead, then hang up on me without letting me say anything in my defense.
    “Oh yeah?!” I said, yelling at my phone. “Try calling me again.” I spun around and threw my phone at the pond as hard I could. It landed a good distance away with a “splash!” and I slumped down on my knees to watch the ripples ride their way back to the water’s edge. I felt Drew sit down beside me, but I didn't look at him. I couldn't. It was hard enough not to succumb to the breakdown I was about to have, and I didn't want him to see me like this. If I told him why my father hated me so much, he'd probably hate me too. How could anyone love me, knowing I killed my own brother? Accident or not, it was still my fault.
    Drew spoke softly. “Lilly? What happened?”
    I shook my head, not wanting to speak. The tears welled up and I bit my lip, trying to prevent their inevitable fall. “It was my father, that's all.” He grabbed my hand from my lap and the tears slid down my cheeks. “When he's drinking, he says things he doesn't mean.” I sucked in a deep breath as I forced a smile on my face. “I'll be fine. I always am.”
    Drew gave my hand a firm squeeze. “You can talk to me, you know, about anything.”
    “Thank you.”
    “What did he say? Judging from your reaction, it must’ve been pretty bad.”
    The smile slipped