My ears fill with air then pop, an invisible needle jammed over and over again. I’m hungry and these stale cookies are not satisfying. Dad doesn’t remove his eyes from the window, surveying long lines or circles of blue interlocking with patchworks of flat green and brown land gliding by below.
It’s weird, almost unsettling to be here with him. The secrets and lies, the pride and spite dividing us was for nothing. Dad kept me at arm’s length and I resented him, many of the things I said or did were meant to hurt him, and a chasm formed.
He turns from the window. “How are we going to make Ruby come with us?”
“We have to convince Rue she’s safe from Lebanon. The way we do that is by standing up to him. He doesn’t have power over you anymore. We have the truth. All he has is fear.”
Though fear is a strong force, inescapable for some.
“Do you think that will be enough?” he says.
“We can’t make her do anything, but if we’re both there, if we show her we won’t let Lebanon torment her anymore, torment us anymore, we have a chance.”
The plane firmly shudders and rocks. The fasten seat belt signs ping on. We jostle, bounce up and down. I squeeze his hand, and smile, I remember what Ms. Tabitha said while I was at her and Holden’s home. “You can’t be the rock. You have to be the river.” I repeat this same statement to Dad.
He stares at me, his eyes as much of an enigma to me as they always have been, because I have no idea what he’s thinking. That happens if you close yourself off to someone, but I’ll get to know his looks and he’ll learn mine.
“What is it, Pops? Because you’re freaking me out a little staring at me.”
“I’m just proud of you, is all,” he says.
I want to say this means little to me, but of course it doesn’t. Of course, it means everything! You always want your parents to be proud of you, think you’re doing a good job at something; it doesn’t matter what that something is. Most importantly I want him to believe, to know I’m a good person, and that’s what his smile and his words confirm.
“Proud of me? What does that feel like?”
“Something between joy and fear. I think I’m gonna burst to be honest,” he answers. “It could also be indigestion. Maybe that’s what pride is, at least when it comes to you, Layla. Joy and fear and a little indigestion.”
“I don’t think I can argue that, Pops.”
He chuckles, and though the lifting of one weight seems to free part of my heart, another part of me is still heavy. That space is occupied by Ruby.
Is she okay? Can I bring her back?