Seeing Shane Gray ✓

thirty six | deserve

November 30

*.*.*.*.*.*

The sudden flash of light causes me to wince, squinting my eyes shut before opening them a fraction to squint into the blinding beam. Shane says something I don't hear, slowly recognizing the face outside the window as my dad's.

"Dad," I breathe.

"Shit," Shane blurts out.

I don't know who drops whose hand but Shane is the one who rolls down his window when Dad's fist rams against it. His set face appears when the tinted glass vanishes and I'm already reaching for the door handle. Jumping out of the car and slamming the door shut behind him, I walk around the front of the car and toward dad whose car stands start in the driveway.

"What are you doing out here?" Dad demands, his red-tinged eyes boring into mine.

Mine roll to the back of my head of their own accord and I try not to be so insolent. His question makes me want to burst out laughing, though. Is this the only thing that concerns him? Why I'm outside at this time of the night.

"What are you doing out of the house past midnight, Taylor?" Dad asks slowly.

Taking my time to answer, I take in Dad's open collar and the tie hanging loosely around his neck, the reddish tinge to his eyes, the slight delay in his speech. It's evident he's been drinking.

"I could ask you the same thing," I say calmly.

In the dim light, I watch Dad's face pale further. The sound of the door opening behind me makes me glance over my shoulder to see Shane jumping out of his Navigator and taking a hesitant step toward me.

"I'm so sorry, sir, it's my fault," he says, clearly flustered but plucking up his courage to stand up in my favor. "I'm Shane Gray. I'm Taylor's --"

"Shane," I interrupt. "You should go. I've got this."

Shane stares at me, his mouth hanging open. Still, I stand my ground, knowing now why Shane did what he did yesterday. Not only do I want to handle my messy family myself but I also don't want my dad saying anything to Shane that will make me feel bad later.

He doesn't argue, though, his uncertain gaze fixed on me. As for Dad, he looks from Shane to me and back.

"Go, Shane," I repeat softly. "I'll see you at school on Monday."

Before he can say anything, I turn back to look at Dad before taking firm steps toward the house. I don't want to create a scene with Shane watching and the last thing I want is to show him how crazy everything in my family has become.

There was a time when I could talk to my dad without feeling a rush to rage toward him. There was a time when Carter and I would wait for the weekend because we could spend time with him and Mom. He'd take us camping and shopping and we loved sitting in McDonald's and talking about my badminton team and Carter's obsession with NFL.

Now, though, every time I either see Dad or even think about him, I wish I could grab him by his shoulders and shake him hard. I want him to open his eyes and see what he's doing to us. What he did to Carter without knowing and is now doing to me and Mom.

I wish I could make him see how he's losing everything we used to have.

Passing him by, I turn around with raised eyebrows to give Shane a questioning look. Shane sighs and nods, getting in his car and causing it to start. As he drives off and disappears, Dad turns to look at me with pursed lips and furrowed brows, and I ignore him and enter the house.

I cross the living room slowly, making my way to the stairs while pretending I'm not waiting for dad to catch up to me.

"Taylor, I'm asking you a question," Dad snaps, his voice ringing loudly in the deadly-silent house.