Chasing Forgiveness Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    Back in my room, Tyler still lies on his back on the floor, staring up at the pattern of the ceiling, his eyes darting back and forth like he’s watching a movie. I don’t tell him that I won’t be living in the same house with him anymore. I don’t even tell him that dinner’s ready. I need a moment to think. Just a moment to be in the world away from Mom and away from Dad. I jump onto my bed and join Tyler in surveying the ceiling.
    â€œWhat do you see?” he asks.
    I squint and try to focus on the coarse grain of the ceiling. “Nothing,” I tell him.
    â€œI see a pony,” he says. “And I see a big shaggy dog.” He points up at them like he’s pointing to stars. “You see?”
    â€œNo,” I tell him. As I lie on my bed, the ceiling shows me nothing today.

4
THE MYSTERY HOUSE
Saturday, March 3—Five Days Left
    â€œI’m not gonna tell you,” says Dad, shifting into second gear.
    â€œAw, c’mon!” The car smells of new rubber from the wetsuit that he surprised me with today. I know it’s just one of several surprises he has planned, and now I know that moving in with him was the right thing to do.
    â€œNope, I won’t tell.” Dad’s got a smile on his face. He loves when he can string me along like this. I kind of love it, too, and I let him play, because it seems to be the most fun he’s had in a long, long time.
    â€œC’mon, Dad,” I ask. “How close to the beach is it?”
    â€œYou’re just gonna have to wait and see.”
    If he bought me a wetsuit, that must be a hint that it’s pretty close to the beach. I can’t stand the suspense.
    We turn onto Pacific Coast Highway. It’s pretty warm forMarch; people in shorts walk along the sidewalk. Kids ride by on bicycles, steering with one hand and carrying boogie boards with the other. This is definitely a good day.
    Dad’s looking good, considering. Actually, he’s not looking very good at all, but he’s looking better than he did a few days ago. He’s thin. His face looks like it’s caving in on itself. He’s thirty-one, but he looks like he’s much older than that. And his eyes—that’s been the scary thing these past few weeks. They just keep sinking into his head, getting darker. He’s lost weight, too—twenty, maybe thirty, pounds. That’s a lot for a man as thin as he is. He doesn’t eat much at dinner, even though Grandma Lorraine is a great cook. He doesn’t eat much at all. Lately I’ve been afraid he’s gonna starve himself to death, but today I stop worrying. Today he had a Big Mac and fries, and he’s smiling. This is definitely a very good sign.
    He turns up a street that heads down toward the shore—one block, two blocks. Then the road dead-ends right at the sand ahead of us. Dad turns into a driveway. A two-story duplex house, three houses from the beach!
    â€œAw, no way!” I say. “I can’t believe we did it. We bought a house by the ocean!”
    â€œNot bought it,” he tells me, “rented it.”
    He jiggles the keys in front of me. We go up to the front door, and I think, People live their whole lives hoping to one day get the chance to live in a place on the beach. And this house is ours.
    Inside, the walls are bright with a fresh coat of white paint. The beige carpet is new. Although from the front the house looks kind of dinky, it’s very long, and much larger than it seems.
    The kitchen is huge. “I made sure to get a place with a nice big kitchen,” says Dad. “For Mom.”
    â€œLook here.” Dad strides to the middle of the empty living room. “Our couch can go here,” he says, pointing to the wall beside the big brick fireplace. “And the TV there,” he says, pointing to the corner. Then he walks over to the hardwood floor of the