Ugly Love: A Novel

Six years earlier

Dad: “Where are you?”

Me: “Ian’s house.”

Dad: “We need to talk.”

Me: “Can it wait until tomorrow? I’ll be home late.”

Dad: “No. I need you home now. I’ve been waiting for you since school let out.”

Me: “Fine. On my way.”

That was the conversation that led to this moment. Me, sitting in front of my dad on the couch. My dad, telling me something I don’t care to hear.

“I would have told you sooner, Miles. I just—”

“Felt guilty?” I interrupt. “Like you’re doing something wrong?”

His eyes meet mine, and I begin to feel bad for saying what I said, but I push the feeling down and keep going.

“She’s been dead less than a year.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to throw up.

He doesn’t like being judged, especially by me. He’s used to my supporting his decisions. Hell, I’m used to supporting his decisions. Until now, I always thought he made good ones.

“Look, I know this is hard for you to accept, but I need your support. You have no idea how hard it’s been for me to move on since she died.”

“Hard?” I’m standing. I’m raising my voice. I’m acting like I give a shit for some reason, when I really don’t. I could care less that he’s already dating again. He can see whoever he wants. He can screw whoever he wants.

I think the only reason I’m reacting this way is because she can’t. It’s hard to defend your marriage when you’re dead. That’s why I’m doing it for her.

“It’s obviously not very hard for you at all, Dad.”

I walk to the opposite end of the living room.

I walk back.

The house is too damn small to fit all of my frustration and disappointment.

I look at him again, recognizing that it’s not so much the fact that he’s seeing someone already. It’s the look he gets in his eyes when he talks about her that I hate. I never saw him look at my mother that way, so whoever she is, I know it’s not a casual thing. She’s about to seep into our lives, intertwining around and through and between my relationship with my father like she’s poison ivy. It’ll no longer be just my father and me. It’ll be me, my father, and Lisa. It doesn’t feel right, considering my mother’s presence is still everywhere in this house.

He’s sitting with his hands folded in front of him, clasped together. He’s looking down at the floor.

“I don’t know if this will go anywhere, but I want to give it a shot. Lisa makes me happy. Sometimes moving on is . . . the only way to move on.”

I open my mouth to respond to him, but my words are cut off by the doorbell. He looks up at me, hesitantly coming to a stand. He seems smaller. Less heroic.

“I’m not asking you to like her. I’m not asking you to spend time with her. I just want you to be nice to her.” His eyes are pleading with me, and it makes me feel guilty for being so resistant.

I nod. “I will, Dad. You know I will.”

He hugs me, and it feels good and bad. It doesn’t feel like I just hugged the man I’ve had on a pedestal for seventeen years. It feels as though I just hugged my peer.

He asks me to get the door while he heads back to the kitchen to finish dinner, so I do. I close my eyes and let my mom know that I’m going to be nice to Lisa, but she’ll always just be Lisa to me, no matter what happens between her and Dad. I open the door.

“Miles?”

I look at her face, and it’s completely opposite from my mother’s face. This makes me feel good. She’s a lot shorter than my mother. She’s not as pretty as my mother, either. There’s nothing about her that can be compared to my mother, so I don’t even try. I accept her for what she is: our dinner guest.

I nod and open the door wider to let her in. “You must be Lisa. Good to meet you.” I point behind me. “My father is in the kitchen.”

Lisa leans forward and gives me a hug—one that I successfully make awkward after it takes me several seconds to hug her back.

My eyes meet the eyes of the girl standing behind her.

The eyes of the girl standing behind her meet mine.

You’re

gonna

fall

in

love

with

me,

Rachel.

“Miles?” she says in a broken whisper.

Rachel sounds a little bit like her mother, but sadder.

Lisa looks back and forth between us. “You know each other?”

Rachel doesn’t nod.

Neither do I.

Our disappointment melts to the floor and combines in a puddle of premature tears at our feet.

“He, um, . . . he . . .”

Rachel is stuttering, so I help her finish her words. “I go to school with Rachel,” I blurt out. I regret saying that, because what I really want to say is, Rachel is the next girl I’m gonna fall in love with.

I can’t say that, though, because it’s obvious what’s bound to happen. Rachel isn’t the next girl I’ll fall in love with, because Rachel is the girl who will more than likely become my new stepsister.

For the second time tonight, I feel sick.

Lisa smiles and clasps her hands together. “That’s great,” she says. “I’m so relieved.”

My father walks into the room. He hugs Lisa. He says hi to Rachel and tells her it’s good to see her again.

My father already knows Rachel.

Rachel already knows my father.

My father is Lisa’s new boyfriend.

My father visits Phoenix a lot.

My father has been visiting Phoenix a lot since before my mother died.

My father is a bastard.

“Rachel and Miles already know each other,” Lisa says to my father.

He smiles, and relief floods his face. “Good. Good,” he says, repeating the word twice as if it could make things better.

No.

Bad. Bad.

“That’ll make tonight a lot less awkward,” he says with a laugh.

I look back at Rachel.

Rachel looks at me.

I can’t fall in love with you, Rachel.

Her eyes are sad.

My thoughts are sadder.

And you can’t fall in love with me.

She slowly walks inside, avoiding my gaze as she watches her feet with each step. They’re the saddest steps I’ve ever seen taken.

I close the door.

It’s the saddest door I’ve ever had to close.