The Fiche Room

by Suzie Carr

  “I understand. Of course you’re scared. Is anyone with you?”

  “I wanted to be alone.”

  “Baby, no you don’t.”

  Her intuitiveness comforted me. Hearing her call me “baby” again sent a surge to my heart. “I miss you, Haley. I miss hearing your voice.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  “You were the only person I wanted to talk to as I sat awaiting news on my Dad.”

  “I’m glad you called then. So, he’s going to okay?”

  “He’ll be fine the doctor said. I just want to see him though, to make sure.”

  “You must have been so scared. Were you alone when it happened?”

  “No. Goldie and Colin were there. We were cleaning up after my bridal shower.”

  “Bridal shower, huh? How did that go?”

  A bunch of strangers showering me with presents was even more insignificant to me now. “You know from the night we went out last time you were here, I can’t stand being the center of attention.”

  “No, you don’t, do you?”

  Hearing her friendly voice made me smile my first genuine smile of the day. “Haley, what made you call me back finally last night?”

  “It was the first night that you didn’t call and leave me a message, and it sort of freaked me out when I realized maybe you might never call me back again.”

  I loved this woman. “Sorry about that. I left my cell at Colin’s house.”

  “I know. He told me.”

  “What did you talk about? We didn’t talk about what happened. My dad collapsed before we had a chance to address it.”

  “I called you and when I heard him answer, I panicked, so I hung up. Thirty seconds later, I see your cell on my caller ID. It was late, I wasn’t thinking. I assumed it was you. So when I answered, I said ‘Did I get you in trouble?’”

  I winced. “Oh no.”

  “So he says back to me, ‘Are you the Haley I met in Denver two weeks ago?’ When I heard his voice, I freaked.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, ‘I’m sorry, I thought you were Emma. Yeah, I’m the girl you met.’ He asked me what trouble I could be getting you in. I told him I meant ‘trouble for calling so late.’ He seemed to buy it because he got friendly and asked me how I liked living in Denver.”

  “What else happened?”

  “We ended the call by him telling me he’d give you the message that I called.”

  “He didn’t. He just told me my cell rang late last night. Did he ask why you hung up on him?”

  “I just told him I thought I had the wrong number. Was he okay with you? Do you think he was suspicious?”

  “Right now, I don’t really care. He’s not exactly on my good side. You’d think my dad had a common cold the way he’s taking it so lightly.”

  “Hmm, I see,” Haley mumbled.

  “I know, I know, I get what I ask for in life.”

  A moment of silence passed between us.

  “I don’t think it’s healthy if we talk every day, Emma.”

  Her honesty twisted my heart so hard, it throbbed. “I know.”

  “I want to be here for you. I really do. But—”

  “I hate buts.”

  “Me too. But,” she lingered on the word. “In all seriousness, if marrying Colin is really what you want to do, you need to be able to count on him before me.”

  “You’re right. I do.”

  “I just want you to be the happiest you can be. Selfishly, I want to be there to see to it that you are, but I respect your decision and will support you in as healthy a way as possible.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, go give your Dad a big hug and do what you can to make him proud and happy. Because I know that’s what you’re trying to do. And I happen to think that’s noble of you.”

  “You do?”

  “Just as long as making him happy makes you happy.”

  “It does.” I hesitated then asked, “So, will you answer my calls from time to time?”

  “Don’t focus on me. Focus on your new life, on new chances, and on being as happy as you can.”

  “And what will you do?”

  “I’ll be doing the same.”

  She offered me closure to move ahead. What a selfless, pure woman.

  ****

  I would take her advice and make my dad proud. One week after coming home from the hospital, I knew it was time to offer my dad what would make him happiest and most settled. As I walked up to his front door, I laid to rest my own selfish desires and prepared to live more responsibly for once in my life.

  Chapter 15

  “Dad? Where are you?”

  “I’m in the library, Emma. Can you help me?”

  I found him with one foot hanging from the top step of his library ladder, as his fingers traced the spines of old classics. “I promised my secretary I’d bring in The Adventures of Huckleberry Fin for her to read. That promise is about two months old now. But seeing as retirement is coming up quickly, I figured I better get it to her. Turns out she’s just as crazy about my book collection as I am.”

  “Any romance brewing there?” I asked, taking in a long, conscious whiff of the old book smell permeating the cozy, knotty-pine room.

  “None. You know how I feel about that.”

  I steadied my eyes on him, “When are you ever going to let yourself be free, Dad?”

  He laughed, keeping his balance as he climbed down the metal, creaky steps of the ladder. “I like being caged I guess.”

  I understood the comfort of caged security too. “Like father like daughter.”

  “I like to think so, but not in being caged.” The strident grin he flashed at me was one of his best assets. He could move people with that smile. But, since the heart scare a week prior, clouding that brilliant smile was a film of weariness.

  “Well, I’d like to change that.”

  “Oh?” he asked, squinting at me with his tired gray eyes.

  “I’m ready to make the move out of the fiche room, Dad.”

  He rested the book against his front waist, cradling it between his two hands. “Hmm.”

  I expected a big, happy hug. “That’s it? Hmm?”

  “Your timing is a bit contrived, don’t you think? I don’t need guilt right now, Emma.”

  His assumption that I reduced his illness to a mere opportunity to make him feel guilty made no sense. “You think I’m trying to make you feel guilty?”

  “I’m offended that you’d think I wouldn’t see the bad timing.”

  I darted my eyes to his, unable to hide my irritation. “I resent that, Dad. I came here to make you happy and you take it as an insult?” I stormed towards the door, as a sign of withdrawing my offer to give up my freedom for his stupid financial kingdom.

  “You want to make me happy?” he called after me. “Stop blaming me or Colin for keeping you from your passions and start proving to us that you really have them. If you want to be an artist, then damn it, be one. But, don’t file yourself away with the microfiche and blame me that you’re not an artist.”

  I stopped so suddenly that my sandal skidded and left a thick, black line on the laminated wooden floor. “How dare you say that to me? Both you and Colin have made me feel all along that I would be a failure in life if I pursued my frivolous art. And now you have the nerve to throw all those years back in my face by telling me it’s my own fault that I’m not an artist? I am an artist, Dad. And a damn good one if you’d just take the time to see for yourself.”

  He flung the book to the side, sending it smashing against the edge of his desk. “I never referred to your art as frivolous.”

  I opened my mouth ready to set him straight and point out all the times he did insinuate my passion was nothing short of a waste of time and energy, but his eyes held a sadness that I hadn’t seen before. A weaker, aged man stared back at me. His sixty-year old body appeared fragile and tired. I hadn’t come to his house to add stress to his a
lready taxing existence. I came to offer him peace of mind. And here I went again, fretting over my own selfish ideals.

  “You might not have come right out and said frivolous, but honestly, it just felt that way to me,” I said as calmly as possible.

  He went over to the book, now lying misshapen on the floor, stooped low to pick it up and then dropped to his knees. He fumbled to replace the book’s jacket. The tired skin of his hand smoothed over the cover in a gentle, loving sweep. “You are so much like your mother.”

  I lowered my gaze.

  “She would say the same thing to me.” He rose and with outstretched arms, leaned into his desk. “But, I failed her. I never gave credence to her passions the way she did mine. It tears me up that I’m doing the same to you now.”

  His eyes drooped. I didn’t want to see this side of him—this vulnerable side—where I rose above him in righteousness and he sank below. I didn’t want to one-up my own dad. He was always the patriarch. I needed him to be stronger. I relied on him to be stronger.

  “Dad, I know you just want the best for me. Our ideas on that are just different.”

  He turned towards me, peering into my eyes. “I have my own selfish reasons for wanting you to follow in my tracks. I can brag about you being a fine accountant. I can’t brag about you being an artist because I don’t know the first thing about art. I mean, look around this place. I can’t even draw a decent stick-figure or align pictures properly on a wall.”

  I looked to the three pictures hanging haphazardly off center from each other on the wall above his desk. I knew what he had tried to create by staggering them, but the effect was spoiled.

  Episodes of my life flashed through my mind: him attempting to make a sand castle with me on the beach and it collapsing from poor construction, him painstakingly helping me design a science project of the solar system and seeing his dismay when he punched the holes of the stars too big. He never acquired great spatial ability so he avoided building or creating things whenever possible.

  When I was the director of a talent show in my senior year of high school and I asked him to help with set design because four students failed to show up the day before the show ran, the panicked expression on his face was priceless.

  I placed my hand on his wrist ready to agree with him that yes, he was selfish for wanting me to live his life of choice, but his eyes softened. This softness pulled at me. I felt sorry for him. I wanted to emulate him, not pity him. I shook my head trying to erase this new weaker image of the man I admired.

  “Let’s make a deal. I teach you how those pictures above your desk should align on the wall and you teach me what I need to know to succeed in the firm.”

  “You don’t want to be an accountant any more than I want to be an artist.”

  “Making you happy is more important than anything, Dad.”

  “But, if you’re not happy, I’m not going to be.”

  Fearing that I’d disappoint him further, I lied. “Dad, truly I want to give it a try.”

  “What about your art?”

  Just his asking me about it was enough to bring the smile back to my face. “Don’t you worry about my art. I’ll create enough pictures for you to get plenty of practice aligning them on your walls.”

  “I’d love that.”

  “And as far as accounting, I’ll give it a try and see if I like it as much as you.”

  “And if you’re not happy with it, I want you to get out of it.”

  Even though his words were what I’d always wanted to hear, his weary eyes didn’t match them. He wanted me to find happiness in what he considered a real career. “I promise that if I’m not happy, you’ll know it.”

  He smiled. “That sounds like a deal.”

  “I need you to promise me that Sharon will remain in the fiche room.”

  “Will she be a suitable replacement?”

  “Definitely. I can’t imagine a more suitable replacement.”

  “I honestly thought she would have driven you crazy by now. I gave it a week before you came begging for a position upstairs.”

  “I know you did. But, I’m stubborn too. I vowed to stick it out regardless how crazy she drove me. You couldn’t outwit me there.” I winked at him.

  “I’m sorry I put you through all that.”

  “I’m glad you did. She lets me be me. She’s a great lady.”

  “You have always had that ability to look past the superficial and see into a person’s heart. I wish I could be more like you, seeing the good side of people. See right there, that’s why I’m proud of you. You can see beauty in everything.”

  “That’s the beauty of art.”

  “How about we start with my first lesson? Care to teach this old man more about that artful eye of arranging some pictures?”

  “If the student is up for the challenge?”

  “Right, oh wise one,” he said, bowing to me.

  I bowed back.

  I was certain about one thing in my life, my dad adored me, especially when I fit the mold he created for me. I could’ve lost him. Now, his happiness was more important than my own. And the time away from the fiche room just might give me the separation I needed to move ahead of the memories I created with Haley in that room.

  “Dad, can we eat something first? I’m starved.”

  “Well, Daddy’s got just the remedy for that growling tummy.”

  He swung his arm around my shoulder and walked down the hall aisle with me towards the kitchen, just as he used to when I was a child. Only this time was different. Instead of fighting my way to feel like a grown-up, I allowed myself to feel like his little girl.

  ****

  Later that day, as I walked from the parking garage to Goldie’s place, I carried with me a new found appreciation for my dad and my blessed life.

  “Do you want rice and beans or pizza tonight?” she asked me before I had a chance to dump the armload of invitations onto the coffee table.

  “I want pizza,” Tatiana called from the hallway.

  “I think I was asking Tia,” she reprimanded her.

  Using yarn to draw lines, she created a hopscotch. “Want to play?” she asked me.

  I laughed at her resourcefulness.

  “Tatiana, give her a chance to breathe. Tia and I have a lot of work to do tonight.”

  I frowned at Goldie, then turned back at Tatiana who was now staring up at me with wide, hopeful eyes. “Please, Tia.”

  Unable to resist my goddaughter’s persuasive ways, I threw my arms in the air, surrendering the dinner choice to Goldie while we played hopscotch.

  By nine o’clock, after a few more rounds of hopscotch than promised and after three generous slices of pizza, Tatiana’s eyes fluttered to sleep. As Goldie tucked her into bed, I poured two glasses of blush wine. I spread the wedding invitations out on the table and began surveying the list of attendees.

  “Over five hundred guests,” I said to her when she walked up behind me.

  “Charlie’s coming in any minute. Can we summon his help?”

  “I was hoping he’d be around tonight. I really like him. How are things going between you two?”

  A big smile sprouted on her face. “I love him more each day. I never thought I could feel so giddy in love with someone after all this time, but with him, I still do. All he has to do is look at me and I melt.”

  I grabbed a pile of envelopes, a gold speckled calligraphy pen, and the first page of guests and placed them in front of Goldie. “Start writing.” I gulped some wine. “I’m so happy for you that you found love.”

  “Me too. Hey, you know what I realized? Colin’s never met him.”

  It was just a matter of time before she would mention this. “Well, my wedding is only eight weeks away. So, we know for sure they’ll meet soon enough.”

  “I was hoping maybe we could all meet up before that. Like, maybe you can have us over for dinner one night.”

  “Yeah, we should do that,” I said, not committing myself t
otally, knowing Colin wouldn’t agree to it easily. “So, how long do you think it’s going to take us to get through writing these things?”

  She placed her hand on the small of my wrist. “I have to be honest with you about something that Charlie said to me.”

  I raised my eyes motioning her to continue.

  “He said he’d rather get together with you and Haley as a couple than you and Colin.”

  “Really?” I laughed. “What horrible things have you said to him about Colin?”

  “I prepped him about Colin’s high-class attitude and I think I may have jaded his opinion.”

  “You think?”

  “He’s met Haley. She’s a likable woman. Of course he’ll be more inclined to want to hang out again with her versus Colin. Do you think they’ll get along?”

  “Honestly?”

  She arched her eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

  “No, I don’t think so. Colin isn’t down-to-earth like Charlie.”

  “Or Haley,” she added.

  I tried to block the grin creeping on my face, but couldn’t. Haley was likable. I was confident that she would win over anyone I introduced her to. “Yes, or Haley.”

  “Em, your face lights up when you talk about her. I’ve never seen that happen with Colin. You’re glowing just like you were the night we talked about your kiss. You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”

  Love. The word sent a swirl of euphoria through me. But I quickly squashed it. “I’m trying to do the right thing, Goldie.” I pointed my finger at her, trying to create an expression of threat. “No confusing me.”

  “What if marrying Colin isn’t the right path for you?”

  I triggered my finger at her again. “You are not doing this to me.”

  “Have you told her that you are in love with her?”

  “It was just a kiss, remember. That’s what you told me. It’s just a kiss.”

  I scrolled a stranger’s name onto the ivory envelope.

  “Have you talked to her since that day at the hospital?”

  I wanted to. I hovered my fingers above my cell every night before going to sleep, but resisted the urge to press the key pad. I hoped with each new night that the temptation would pass, but it only grew. “She told me that us talking wasn’t a good idea.”