The Flynn Effect

44 | wedding invitations

Jo

BY THE TIME, I get home, my eyes, though dry now are still slightly swollen. I called in sick today and Talia was more than happy to let me have the day off. Sometimes, I wonder how she's taking all of this. Each time she stops by the bookstore, she never looks like anything is bothering her. She always look happy and strong and it baffles me because I don't know a thing about being strong.

I spot Drew's truck parked next to the porch and when the events from this morning replay in my mind, I frown before hastening my steps and barging into the living room like I just ran a marathon. If anything, he should be at work or at the hospital receiving treatment.

Grandma is standing next to the landline on the table and she's going through the family's photo album like she always does when she's trying to remember. I close the door gently and then I give her a one-sided hug before forcing a smile.

"Hey grandma." I say, dropping my heavy bag on the dining table and heading straight to the fridge to grab an apple. King barks and runs over to me, waggling his tail as he does so and I grin and ruffle his fur before he struts away again. "Is Drew in his room?"

I start to head up the stairs even when she doesn't respond but then she turns around and when she does, I see the hesitation on her face before she regards me with a solemn look.

"Josephine," she says and the apple I'm about to chew stops halfway to my mouth.

Thankfully, I haven't gone too far up the stairs so I get down slowly and move closer to her. "Did something happen? Is Drew okay?"

She comes closer to me and touches my face with her tender, yet aging hand. Her voice is soft when she speaks but there's annoyance in her eyes. "Your father was here a while ago."

I blink once and then twice and when the expression on her face doesn't change, my response comes out as a silent whisper. "What?"

She nods with a grimace. "He left about thirty minutes ago. He met Drew at home and he brought something with him."

It's almost like she's speaking in another language because even though I'm aware of what she's saying, it doesn't register immediately.

I wonder what he looks like now. Does he still look like he did before he left? Are they grey hairs on his head now? Is his smile still warm and familiar?

I don't realize my eyelashes are wet until I blink and a tear rolls down my cheek. "Did he ask about me?"

"Jo."

"Did he?"

Grandma strokes my cheek with her thumb and sighs. Then she nods and takes out an envelope from the photo album before handing it over to me.

It feels heavy in my hands. Like I'm trying to lift a pile of bricks. Yet, slowly and carefully, I rip the envelope apart and bring out the card that's sitting right inside. I read the cursive words written on it over and over again and the more I read it, the more anger I feel. My father truly is a piece of shit.

"He brought this with him," Grandma says. "And he wanted the signed divorce papers but I refused to call your mother from work and I refused to give them to him even though she's signed them already. That's her job, not mine. So I told him she'll mail them or something and then he left."