Chapter 11
1126 Words
I’m not even the tiniest bit nervous about finally going out with my dad. Sure, I’ve seen him before but we’ve never actually spoken. It’s not like I’ve made much effort on that part but he hasn’t really done much either. He always sends his lapdog to fetch me but it would be nice if he himself came. His gifts are always couriered.
I guess he doesn’t want to see the expression on my on my face when I open the gifts, so I never open them. Even the paints he bought me are still sealed away in cans inside of a box. I left them behind.
I’m waiting by the door waiting for the inevitable and yet so familiar knock. I open the door before the second one can land. Joseph seems more stunned than he was the last time and he also seems to have grown taller and sturdier. He is standing frozen at the doorstep, his hand in the air.
“Ah! Joseph the lapdog. I would say it’s nice to see you but it never is.”
“Ah! The ungrateful spoiled brat, rude as usual.” He seems hurt as he always is and as how I intend to make him feel.
“If you think that your words phase me, rest unassured. They do not. Yes, I am an ungrateful spoiled and rude brat. At least I’m honest.”
“Your dad’s waiting for you.” He clears his throat.
“It would’ve been nicer if he brought himself.” I comment rudely just to stamp on the point.
“He’s a very busy man.”
I close the door behind me without letting my mother know of my departure. I’m sure she is listening from somewhere close even though she’s out of sight.
“He’s too busy for his own daughter.” I scoff as soon as he starts the car.
“At least he’s making an effort. That’s so much more than can be said for other parents!”
“Careful, you might burst an artery.”
“I’m glad you find other people’s struggles to be amusing.” He’s almost close to tears. “But I will not have you disrespecting the only man who’s been like a father to me. He is the father I never had.”
“I’m sorry. Actually I’m not, because he’s the father I didn’t have. The father I needed. The father I want to be here, all the time and always.”
I don’t always express my emotions in the form of words, especially not in front of others. This is certainly quite a moment of weakness but in my defence, I am away from my paints and canvases.
“You’re jealous?” He chuckles in disbelief.
“You’re actually quite capable of emotion. It is unbelievable.”
“I don’t wish to talk anymore. Do you have any music?” I make sure to amplify the annoyance in my tone.
“I don’t think anything I have would please the brat, seeing that I’m a dog.” The tables have turned. He’s mocking me and he’s enjoying it.
“Lapdog. There’s a huge difference. I don’t like dogs.” I’m not aware that I’m pouting until he brings it up.
“You don’t look so evil when you pout.” He smiles amusingly at me.
“Oh really, how do I look?” I’m trying not to smile.
“Cute.” He says and it earns him a smile from me.
With that our conversation ends and the music begins to play. I surprisingly find myself enjoying it. I think I may add classical renditions of pop songs to my playlist.
***
We arrive at the hotel and Joseph leads me to the restaurant where my father is waiting for me.
Everything surrounding and including him looks so…, rich for lack of a much better word. If I wasn’t me I would think that I was underdressed or inappropriately dressed for the occasion. Joseph shakes his hand and he thanks him. Their affection does make me a bit jealous. As much as I am his biological daughter, I will never be the son he could’ve had.
“A penny for your thoughts…” His voice, rather unfamiliar and very strange draws me away from my thoughts.
“What?” I breathe out.
“What are you thinking about?” He smiles and I wish I could feel as warm as I did when my fake dad smiled.
“Nothing that concerns you.” I clear my throat.
“Well…” He seems offended but he does not scold me. “Your mother told me you were screaming in agony last night.”
I’m taken aback and I’m at a loss for words for a quite a moment.
“She exaggerated. Is that why you’re always busy? You’re busy with her.” I don’t do much to hide my repulsion.
“No. We’re just concerned.”
“I’m sure you are. Can we talk about something else instead of the gossip you attained from pillow talking with my mother.”
“She called me…”
“I don’t want to hear it…” Saying that this conversation is embarrassing would be the understatement of the century.
“What do you want to talk about?”
His question catches me off guard.
“I don’t know. I don’t know you.” I answer abruptly.
“That is why I want to get to know you better.” He sounds sincere.
I’m close to tears. My breathing is shaky. My resolve is cracking.
“You know, it would’ve been nice to hear those words six years ago.”
“I… I tried. Your mother was in a state. I just didn’t think it was right to rush her.”
“It’s always about her isn’t it. It’s always her all the time. She messes up and somehow everyone has to suffer for it.” I let my tears fall freely. I have no energy to stop them.
In his embrace, I feel lost. I feel unsafe and uncertain. I feel like if I stay too long, I will get comfortable and that’s when everything will be snatched away. When I’m comfortable and happy, it will evaporate into nothing.
I was never meant for happiness.
“Baby girl you deserve happiness and I hate myself for not being there to give it to you.”
“I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” I sniffle.
“Even if you don’t say it. I can tell you’re unhappy.”
A stranger to me but his words bring me comfort. Perhaps those are the words I’ve been waiting to hear for so long.
- Writer
