Fated to be Mine

by Larson, Jodie

  Her face softens, placing a sympathetic hand on my knee. “You’re right. Tonight is about funny women, wine, and pressing slow motion while Ryan gets naked. Then rewinding and doing it all over again.”

  I nod and clink my wine glass to hers. “I’ll drink to that.”

  And then our scene comes on, and for the next twenty minutes we appreciate the fine male specimen on the TV in slow motion, still frame and reluctantly in regular motion to finish the movie.

  IT’S FINALLY HERE, SUNDAY NIGHT. I was hoping to maybe contract a sudden case of the flu, or maybe even the bubonic plague. Anything to get out of this dinner tonight with my father and Sharon. I can think of hundreds of things I’d rather do, including letting my heart bleed open and think about Andrew. But no, I’ll play the part of the good daughter, imagining my father actually cares about me, and will engage in uncomfortable conversation for the next two hours.

  I pass the sign welcoming me to Lilydale and instantly I want to turn around and go back downtown. My crappy car and less than designer clothes make me feel almost homeless just driving through the streets. Large mansion-like houses surround me, telling everyone just how well off they are. I am definitely out of my league here.

  And yet, I pull into the circular drive of my father’s house and park my car, thankful I arrived in one piece, and on time. My nerves get the best of me as I walk to the front door, constantly tucking and re-tucking strands of hair behind my ear. As soon as I see the bright smiling face of the only friendly person in the house I instantly relax.

  “Hello, Ms. Martin. How are you this evening?” Miriam says as she pulls me into a hug. I squeeze her back, thankful to see her. She’s an older woman in her mid-sixties and reminds me of Betty White in her Golden Girls days. She has the same overly fluffed hair but in a shade of graying red instead of blond. She’s a little round in the middle and slightly shorter than me. But her smiling face and cheery personality reminds me of my grandma and she treats me just like she used to.

  “Miriam, I told you to call me Tess. You know I’m not like my dad and Sharon.”

  She reaches up to cup my cheek, her eyes glassing over a bit with emotions. Miriam has worked with my father for the past ten years. I was fortunate to really get to know her during the few months I lived here and thankful she was my saving grace from a life of depression and isolation.

  “Of course, my dear. Come, come, in you go before you catch your death out there. You’re not properly dressed for this weather, child.” She takes my light jacket and hangs it up in the hall closet. Sitting on the bench, I slide my boots off, making sure to tuck them underneath so they don’t get in the way. Also, so Sharon doesn’t see them and starts to cast her judgment on my shoe choices.

  “How has Colin been?” I ask. Colin Rafferty is Miriam’s husband of the past forty-plus years. I’ve met him on a few occasions and he’s just like her, a sweet little Irish man with a generous heart to match. He owns a small pub in downtown St. Paul and runs it most nights of the week.

  “Oh, Colin is doing just fine. Been working day in and day out now since they lost another bartender. Can’t seem to keep young people around long enough anymore.”

  I shake my head and follow her down the hall, looping my arm around her waist and hugging her close to me. She squeezes my shoulder as we turn toward my father’s study.

  “That’s a shame. Hopefully, you two still make time for each other. I know how crazy life can sometimes get.” And really I only know this because of the past week. If you had asked me how crazy life can get a month ago, my answer would have been different.

  “Why of course we do dear. We always see each other at night so don’t worry your pretty little head about us.” Never missing anything, Miriam’s face falls slightly as she notices my appearance. “How about you? Is everything all right in your world?”

  I fake my best smile for her, although I’m not sure she buys it. Heck, I don’t even buy it. It’s hard to fake happiness while in this house, along with the recent events of the past few days. “I’m good, Miriam. It’s just been a little … stressful at work this last week. Lots of traveling and not enough sleep.”

  Miriam shakes her head, not buying what I’m selling. It doesn’t stop her from enveloping me in an enormous hug, patting my back reassuringly, as only she could.

  “You know if you need anything you can call me. And I baked your favorite dessert tonight, just for you.”

  My eyes light up. “Apple crisp?”

  She nods. “With caramel topping. And I made an extra one for you to bring home.”

  I fling my arms around her again. “You’re the best, Miriam.”

  She cups my cheek one last time and urges me into the study, where my father is waiting for me behind his massive desk. I knock on the door first to announce my presence. He looks up from his work and acknowledges me in the doorway.

  “Tessa. It’s good to see you. Please, come in.” He motions for me to sit in one of the leather wingback chairs in front of the large mahogany desk. His greetings are always formal, but then again he is the Assistant Attorney General for the state. Formality is to be expected.

  He takes off his glasses, setting them on top of the stacks of papers that litter his desk. He regards me for a moment and I can’t help but fidget under his stare.

  “Um, hi, Dad. How have you been?”

  He leans back in his leather chair, making it creak slightly. Robert Martin looks like the influential lawyer he is behind his desk. You would never guess he has a twenty-six-year-old daughter just by looking at him. He’s in his early fifties, having had me when he was young and just starting his law career, and is only now beginning to show signs of gray at his temples. He’s tall, which is where I get my taller than average height from, and an athletic build, no doubt from the dedication he puts into the gym as his way to blow off steam. I can only imagine the stress he’s under with his position. Actually no I can’t since I’m just an administrative assistant. My life is pretty much the same thing every day. Well, at least it was.

  “I’ve been doing well. Several larger cases will be keeping me plenty busy these next few months before I have to fly out to D.C. again.”

  I nod my head as he takes a sip of the amber liquid in his crystal tumbler. Brandy, no doubt. It’s his drink of choice when he wants to avoid something. Probably me.

  “So how was your business trip? Did you get everything accomplished that you needed to?” He asks with genuine interest, shocking me almost into silence. Wow, I wasn’t expecting him to really ask me anything.

  “Yes, we did. We met with the board of the Tree of Life Foundation, got all the contracts signed and we’re working on strategy this week. I’m really excited because I love their mission statement and the work they do. I think it’s a fitting cause for a person like me.”

  That last little jab was unintentional. Maybe I’ll be lucky and he won’t know what the Foundation does. At least I hope he won’t. I’m not a mean person. Deep down, I do love my father, but it’s hard not to hold on to some sort of resentment for the condition of my childhood and his direct part in it.

  “Ah yes, I’ve heard of them. They do fantastic work and are most definitely a great cause. Aren’t they based in London though?”

  Shit. He has heard of them. If he was affected by my off the cuff comment, he sure doesn’t show it. I blink rapidly and swallow hard. “Yes, they are. That’s where we met the board last week. They gave us several tours of different centers to show us what they offer to the children.”

  “I see. You never mentioned you were going abroad. You should have told me. I’m still your father and would like to know when my daughter is leaving the country, even if she is a grown adult.”

  I bite my lip and look down at my lap. “I didn’t want to make a big deal about it. I went as Kara’s assistant so my role was pretty small. But I was grateful for the opportunity to see firsthand what the Foundation does and who we are going to represent.”

&n
bsp; Andrew’s face quickly flashes into my head and I shake it off, not wanting to dwell on him while sitting in front of my dad. But then he stands, draining the liquid from the tumbler and setting it on the bar behind his desk.

  “Of course, as her assistant. It was very nice of Ms. Thomas to take you with her.”

  And with that statement my mood plummets even further to the ground. That simple statement says so much more than what is on the surface. He was less than thrilled when I went to a two-year community college, only to graduate with my associates degree and a certificate for Administration Assistant. It’s not exactly something he can brag about to his high and mighty friends, whose sons and daughters all followed in the family business, being doctors and lawyers and such. His absence from my life was a determining factor to not follow in his career path. That was not a life I wanted. If I should ever get the chance for a family, I wanted to be there and spend time with them, show them they are the most important thing in my life, not my career.

  I follow him out of the room, making some idle small talk on our way to the living room. Sharon is perched on her stark white designer couch, casually flipping through the latest fashion magazine. My dad walks up behind her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders before dipping down and lightly kissing her cheek. Sharon beams brightly at him, leaning into the kiss yet never once stops turning the pages. I can never tell if she really loves my dad or if she’s only interested in him for what he can give her. A scowl forms on her face when her eyes finally land on me, standing in the doorway to the great room.

  “Hello, Tessa. You look … nice.” Her nose crinkles as she glances over my appearance. Apparently jeans and a nice sweater aren’t proper Sunday dinner attire, as she lounges in her Chanel suit, which I find as slightly overkill. It’s the weekend and she doesn’t work. Why on earth would she need to wear something like that? Oh yes, to rub it in my face how much of my dad’s money she has and how little of it I have.

  “Um, thanks, Sharon.” My toe twists nervously against the cherry wood floors, thankful that I picked a pair of socks without a hole or worn out soles in them. I stand there for a few seconds in awkward silence before Miriam arrives to announce that dinner is ready.

  Sharon gracefully rises from the couch and takes the offered arm from my dad as he leads her to the formal dining room. I silently follow, mindful not to bump into any tables or trip over the rugs lining the hallway. I don’t need an embarrassing display right now. Dinner will be enough as it is.

  My dad pulls out Sharon’s chair for her, placing a kiss on the crown of her head as he lightly pushes it in. Memories appear of Andrew doing a similar gesture on numerous occasions over the last week, causing my heart to beat slightly faster. It’s been two days since I’ve seen or heard from him and yes, I realize it’s my own doing. A part of me was hoping he’d ignore my pleas for silence and contact me anyway. The last two messages I received from him were the day I left, begging me not to go and to talk to him. And I stupidly ignored them, too hurt and prideful to admit that I may have been wrong.

  I brush the memory away, taking the seat to my dad’s left. Tears will do me no good here. It doesn’t stop me from rubbing the spot above my heart to ward off the impending hurt of watching Sharon and my dad hold hands before our plates are brought out to us.

  Miriam is a miracle worker I swear. The food she brings is absolutely divine, serving it as if she was preparing for a major competition rather than just a regular Sunday dinner. And bless her heart she remembered that I don’t eat very much and portioned me accordingly. Prime rib with roasted new potatoes and lemon green beans sit neatly on my plate. This is my dad’s favorite meal and is definitely a step up from my normal dinner of soup or noodles.

  My father pours us all a glass of Bordeaux, no doubt from his private collection, starting with Sharon and then serving me last. The delicious flavor blasts my senses as I take a sip, thankful to have the alcohol to numb my brain, if even just for a moment.

  We start off in silence, each of us appreciating the excellent meal Miriam has prepared. I keep my head down, not wanting to make eye contact with either of them and bring any unwanted conversation. It’s a short-lived dream as my dad is the first to break the silence.

  “So, Tessa, were you able to see any sights while you were in London?”

  I bite my lip, hoping to avoid anything regarding my trip. Sharon looks up and scowls slightly. Someone should tell her if she keeps doing that she’ll develop wrinkles on her perfect face. Another comment that stays silent in my head.

  “You were in London? I thought you said you had a business meeting to go to.”

  I take another sip of the wine for some courage. “I was at a business meeting. We were negotiating with the Tree of Life Foundation, which is based in London. It’s an incredible foundation and I’m really excited to start working with them. They help underprivileged children who have nowhere to go and give them a place to hang out and belong. They also run an orphanage and school and …”

  Sharon cuts me off before I have the chance to finish. “Well, isn’t that nice. So what exactly does that have to do with you?” She takes a bite of her prime rib, her perfectly pink lips sliding delicately over the silver fork, reminding me again how out of her class I am.

  “My firm is doing the consulting work for them in the U.S. They want to expand their foundation stateside and we’re helping them with the process of making that happen.”

  “I suppose it is a good cause. So why exactly did you have to tag along? You are, after all, only the secretary.”

  I retreat further into my chair, hoping it’ll just swallow me up. My eyes drift over to my dad to see his reaction and I’m not surprised when there isn’t one.

  “Administrative Assistant. I accompanied Kara to help her set up the contracts, take notes for her when we met with the board, and various other things she needed help with while we were there.”

  I push the food around my plate, not really feeling hungry anymore. Not that I did in the first place. Just coming here is enough to lose my appetite. The best diet plan in the world.

  Sharon rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her wine. “Again, if you ask me, it’s a waste of company money to take you with. There’s no reason why she couldn’t do all those things by herself.”

  I drain the wine from my glass, praying the numbing effects will take over, or at least buy me time until I need to leave. Not that I want to be plastered when I have to battle the traffic to go home, but I’d like something to kill the pain of having to sit here and endure this inquisition.

  I decide instead to focus on the question my father had asked me before Sharon dug her poisoned barbs into me. “I was able to do a little sightseeing. I rode the Tube; saw the Palace, Big Ben, and Westminster Abbey. I also took an enjoyable walk through Hyde Park with …” I stop before I divulge too much information. Unfortunately, it wasn’t fast enough. Sharon catches it and raises one perfect brow.

  “With whom? Don’t tell me you met someone over there.”

  My eyes dart to the corner of the room, trying to focus on anything other than my stepmother. My dad has been silent this entire time, not once contributing to the conversation or stopping her line of questioning.

  “I went for a walk with a gentleman I met on the flight over there, who coincidentally works for the Foundation, I later learned.”

  Now my dad gives his first sign of life, frowning at my last statement. “You allowed someone you met on a plane, a total stranger, to take you around London? How did you know he wasn’t some lunatic who was going to take advantage of you somewhere? Plus, don’t you think it is bad business to get romantically involved with someone who is employing you?”

  My fingers twist in my lap as I contemplate my answer. “It wasn’t anything like that. He’s their head of operations and was willing to show me around. There’s no relationship between us so you don’t have to worry.” I can barely choke out that last line as it gets caught in my throat,
hoping he doesn’t notice my discomfort.

  Sharon doesn’t fail though in putting me back in place. “Don’t worry. You weren’t there long enough to build a meaningful relationship with anyone. I mean, he’s a COO and you’re, well, you know.” Her nose crinkles slightly as if she’s laughing internally, which I’m sure she is.

  I push the plate away from me, thoroughly finished with my meal and wanting desperately to go home and curl into a ball. Yes, I know better than anyone that a relationship between Andrew and I would never work. That insecurity alone was reason enough for me to run when faced with the harsh reality of our circumstances. He was Andrew and I was, well, me.

  Finally, my dad gives Sharon a disapproving glare at her comment, the first sign showing he may actually care if my feelings get hurt. Sharon plays her role well by giving him a contrite look, feigning an apology I’m sure. I know I’ll never hear it. His gaze returns to my barely touched plate with concerned eyes.

  “Tessa, you cannot be finished eating. You’ve hardly touched anything on your plate, which wasn’t much to start with.”

  “I’m just trying to save room for the apple crisp that Miriam made. I had a late lunch so I’m really not that hungry,” I lie. He doesn’t need to know I haven’t had anything substantial to eat in a few days. My stomach hasn’t exactly been into it. He seems to buy the lie because he doesn’t push it further, just nods his head and resumes eating his own dinner.

  So I sit as the dutiful daughter I am, listening as Sharon goes on and on about her spa day with the mayor’s wife and her disgust at having her massage performed by someone else. Her regular masseuse was ill so now she’s incredibly sore and isn’t sure how she’s going to function for the rest of the week. I refrain from rolling my eyes, only wishing those were my biggest problems in life.

  Miriam comes back and clears our completed plates before returning with three dishes filled with warm apple crisp and a small scoop of vanilla ice cream. Salted caramel sauce is drizzled over the entire thing and I swear I’m drooling out of the corner of my mouth. The smell alone threatens to put me into a food coma and make me gain five pounds. But nothing compares to taking that very first bite. It is heaven disguised as a baked dessert. My dad actually half smiles at me as I sit and quietly enjoy this treat. It’s nice to see some sort of positive emotion from him instead of indifference, which is what I get most of the time.