by Alice Ward
Finally, I broke the silence and cleared my throat. I adjusted the papers in front of me and slid a sheet over to him. He grabbed it and looked it over without interest.
“This is a breakdown of our talking points,” I said. “I’d like to go through them one by one, so we can perfect your delivery of each. It’s vital that you don’t deviate from these points. If you do, things could get complicated. Before we go over them, though, there are few things you need to take note of.”
While I spoke, Sean stared at the paper in front of him. His eyes didn’t leave it for a single second. The more I talked, the more impatient I became. He clearly wasn’t interested in anything I was saying. I didn’t know if he was even listening.
“What I want you to remember,” I said firmly. “Is that sarcasm does not translate on screen. People don’t want to listen to someone who’s condescending. Frankly, your attitude can be a real turn off to people, so you’ll need to work on that. At least, while you’re speaking for the company. We can’t risk all our work being undone by your attitude. So, when you’re speaking, I need you to tone down the anger. Try to be yourself, but relax a little. Not everyone is your enemy.”
Still, Sean didn’t respond. He was slumped in his chair with his eyes cast downward. I wanted to reach across the table and yank his chin upward, but I forced myself to relax. I remembered my promise to Ray and took a deep breath. I powered on, going through my list of talking points one by one.
“Your apparel is fine,” I said. “Luckily, we won’t need to adjust your wardrobe for these events. We want you to appear trustworthy. If we cover you head to toe in Yates’ apparel, no one will believe you’re real. Everyone will dismiss whatever you say, because they’ll all just assume we paid you off. The photoshoots are one thing. Those are supposed to be advertisements, but public speaking isn’t. Or, at least, it shouldn’t appear to be.”
I took a breath and waited to see if he would respond. He didn’t.
“Also,” I continued. “Since you’re related to Ray, your credibility is already in question. We’re going to have to be careful about how we introduce you. We’ll probably go with the happy family explanation, but that may not sell. That’s something we can discuss later, though.”
After thirty minutes of me speaking and Sean staring at the table, my patience was hanging on by a thread. I was almost to the end of my list and I wanted some indication that he was listening. A small nod would have been enough.
“Remember to sound natural,” I said. “We’ll rehearse the talking points, but it’s important that you don’t sound rehearsed. We want it to seem like you just thought up these things on your own, like these are your actual opinions. If it sounds like corporate is feeding you your lines, everything will fall apart. Does that make sense?”
Sean moved his head a fraction of an inch. It wasn’t a nod, but it was something. I thought it would make me feel better, but it only pissed me off even more. How could he sit there and just ignore me? Didn’t he realize that I was his boss?
“Are you even listening?” I snapped. “This is important stuff. It will help you. I need to know you were paying attention.”
“Don’t be sarcastic,” he recited, popping his head up to meet my glare with one of his own. “Keep my attitude in check. Wear my usual clothes, but make sure I’m clean and I look nice. Don’t deviate from the company’s line. Stay on script, but sound natural. Rehearse everything, but act natural while I’m speaking. Basically, hide the truth.”
Sean’s words left me speechless. Not only had he successfully summarized my entire speech, but he’d made it sound juvenile and beneath him. I was both impressed and angry.
“I know this all seems ridiculous to you,” I said. “But it matters to some of us. So, whether you like it or not, it’s your job. You might as well get used to it.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Sean asked.
“Barely,” I mumbled. Sean opened his mouth to argue, but a sharp ringing interrupted his argument. He fumbled in his pocket for his cellphone.
When he pulled it out and glanced at the screen, something new flashed across his face. His glib, uninterested expression was gone. He looked worried.
“Hello?” Sean said, answering the phone. “Wait, what? When did this happen? Okay. Yes. Okay. Yeah. Uh huh. Alright, I’m on my way. Be there soon.”
Sean jumped up from his chair and walked halfway across the room.
“Where are you going?” I demanded. “Who was that?”
“My ‘other life’,” he said. His tone was angry, but I didn’t acknowledge it.
“Will you be back today?” I asked.
“No,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll call you and let you know when I come in next.”
“Tomorrow,” I called as he left the room. “Be here tomorrow!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sean
When I pulled up to the school, I instantly wished I had taken my car to work that day. I bought my used car so I would never have to risk Paisley’s safety, but now, I didn’t have a choice. Every day before, I went home to get the car before picking Paisley up from camp. The phone call from Paisley’s coach told me there wasn’t time for that today. I parked my bike quickly and jumped off, already hurrying toward the front doors.
Paisley’s swim camp was at a high school about five miles from my house. They used the indoor swimming pool at the far end of the main hallway. I ran down the hallway until I reached the double doors leading to the gym area. Pushing them open, I glanced around, not sure where to go. I felt panicked. I’d never been in this situation before and I had no idea how to handle it. Finally, I heard splashing to my left.
When I found the pool, I immediately scanned the area for a sign of Paisley. I saw her on the other side of the pool, lying on a bench with a towel wrapped tightly around her small body. Even from far away, I could see that she was shivering. I ran over to her, almost colliding with two children on my way.
“Paisley,” I said, squatting down beside her. Her eyes were closed, but they fluttered open at the sound of my voice. They were bloodshot and her lips were pale. I gulped and put my hand on her forehead. She was burning up.
“Mr. Yates?” a voice said from behind me. I whirled around quickly. A woman in a one piece stood above me. She wore a whistle around her neck and her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail.
“Yes,” I said. “Hi. I’m Sean. Paisley’s father.”
“I’m Coach Johnson,” the woman said. “I’m glad you’re here. Paisley came down with a pretty bad stomach bug. You should take her home.”
“Okay,” I nodded. “Did she throw up?”
“Yes,” Paisley muttered from behind me. I glanced back at her and my heart ached. She was clutching her stomach in a vicelike grip.
“Do you think she needs to go to the hospital?” I asked the coach. I tried to keep the panic out of my voice, but Coach Johnson’s knowing smile told me I wasn’t successful.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think so. It just looks like an ordinary stomach bug, but if she gets any worse she’ll need to see a doctor.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Coach Johnson said. “I hope you feel better, Paisley.”
“Thanks,” Paisley whispered.
Coach Johnson turned her back to us and made her way over to the pool. She jumped in, blowing her whistle as she went. The rest of the kids swarmed around her, awaiting her directions. I watched them for a fraction of a second before I turned my attention back to Paisley.
“Okay, honey,” I said softly. “Let’s get you out of here.”
I threw Paisley’s bag over my shoulder and leaned down to help her up. Paisley tried to sit up, but she groaned so loudly I knew she wouldn’t be able to walk. I slid one arm under her knees and the other under her back. She was lighter than anything I’d ever carried. I held her close to my chest while I carried her out into the hall.
Moving as f
ast as I could without jostling her, I moved through the school and out into the parking lot. Paisley’s eyes were closed again and she still held her stomach.
“Do you need anything?” I asked nervously. “Sprite maybe? Or some crackers?”
“I just want to sleep,” Paisley whispered. I sighed, wishing there was more I could do.
When we reached my motorcycle, I cursed myself again for not bringing the car. I shifted Paisley in my arms so that she faced me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her head in my shoulder. I froze for a minute, not wanting the moment to end. It was the first time that Paisley acted like I was her dad. She held onto me tightly, as if my presence was a comfort to her. I squeezed her gently, not wanting to upset her stomach, before I climbed on the bike with Paisley still in my arms.
“Hold on tight, okay?” I said. “I’m sorry I don’t have the car, but we’ll be home soon. I promise.”
Paisley nodded and tightened her grip on my neck. I revved the engine and drove out of the parking lot. I was on edge the entire ride home, looking around me every second to make sure no danger could befall us. When we finally pulled into the driveway, I breathed a sigh of relief and quickly carried Paisley inside.
“Here,” I said as I laid her down on her bed. “Let’s get you out of that wet swimsuit.”
“I can do it,” Paisley groaned. I nodded and handed her a t-shirt. She sat up just long enough to slide her bathing suit off and throw the shirt over her head. When she was dressed, she fell back against the pillow, her eyes fluttering closed.
“Are you cold?” I asked. Paisley nodded.
I hurried over and pulled the comforter out from under her. I tucked her in tightly, adding the extra blanket I kept at the foot of her bed.
“Do you need anything else?” I asked, nervously brushing her wet hair off her face.
“No,” she whispered. “I just need to sleep.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll come check on you in a few minutes. Get some rest.”
I hesitated slightly before walking across the room. When I reached the door, I stepped out into the hallway and pulled it slightly closed. I looked back at Paisley. She looked so small lying there in bed. I’d never seen her look so vulnerable. I hated to see her in pain.
***
An hour later, I knocked on Paisley’s door. She didn’t answer, so I pushed it open and let myself inside. She was no longer asleep, but I knew she hadn’t been awake long. I sat on the bed beside her and touched her forehead lightly.
“How are you feeling?” I asked. “Any better?”
“Not really,” Paisley said. She pulled the blankets up around her chin and shivered. I rubbed my hands on her arms for a second.
“I’m going to get you some soup, okay?” I said. “Do you like chicken noodle?”
Paisley nodded.
“Are you thirsty?” I asked. “Do you want water? Or maybe juice?”
“Juice,” Paisley said.
I hurried from the room and into the kitchen. Even though I hadn’t been grocery shopping in a few days, I knew there was some soup in the pantry. I pulled out a can of chicken noodle and popped it in the microwave. I watched the bowl move in slow circles, and I tried to remember all the things my mom used to do for me when I was sick.
It was a short list. Soup. Crackers. Cool wash cloth. I couldn’t think of anything else that might help Paisley. I felt so useless in that moment. It was my first true test of fatherhood and I felt like I was failing miserably. As the soup cooked, I gathered up some crackers and a glass of juice. I went to the bathroom and pulled out a clean wash cloth. Back in the kitchen, I wet the cloth with cold water.
Using a tray, I carried the soup, crackers, juice, and wash cloth to Paisley’s room. When I pushed the door open, she was sitting up in bed. All her pillows were propped up behind her and she had her head leaned back. I could tell she still wasn’t feeling great, but I hoped some food would help.
“Here you go,” I said, laying the tray across her legs. “Eat slow.”
Paisley didn’t speak as she picked up the spoon and slurped a tiny bit of soup into her mouth. She winced as it went down, but she took a few more bites.
“Try some crackers,” I said, sliding the crackers closer to her. “They’ll settle your stomach.”
“Okay,” Paisley said. She nibbled on the corner of a cracker slowly. I wished she would eat more, but I didn’t want to force her. The last thing I wanted was to make her throw up again. I sat on the edge of her bed and watched her eat. I wanted to say something, anything that might take her mind off being sick, but nothing came to mind.
Instead, I just sat there and waited for her to need me. She finished half her soup and three crackers. When her juice was gone, she pushed the tray away.
“I’m done,” she said. “I don’t think I can eat any more.”
“That’s fine,” I said. I picked up the tray and set it on the floor. “You can have more later if you feel up to it. Do you want more juice?”
“No,” Paisley said. “I want to sleep again.”
“Okay,” I said. I grabbed the wash cloth off the tray and laid it gently over her forehead. “This should help with your fever.”
“My mom used to do that,” Paisley commented. She sunk down on her pillows. Her eyes were already starting to droop.
“Mine too,” I said softly. “Maybe it’s a mom thing.”
“Maybe,” Paisley whispered.
I waited until her eyes were completely closed before I picked up the tray. I moved slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible as I walked across the room. I didn’t want to leave her again, but she needed her rest. As I backed out of the room, I took once last look at her. She looked to be asleep, but when I was almost in the hallway, her small voice stopped me.
“Thank you, Sean,” she whispered.
I froze, a smile forming on my face. From the second I showed up at camp earlier, I was convinced I was failing her. I didn’t have the car. I only had my bike. I wasn’t sure where the pool was. I had no idea how to take care of a sick child. I floundered my way through the last few hours, just praying she wouldn’t get sicker. Even feeding her felt like a poor attempt at parenting. I thought I should be doing more to make her feel better.
“Anytime, kiddo,” I whispered back. I pulled the door closed behind me and went to put the tray in the kitchen.
Once I cleaned up the tray, I sunk into a chair at the kitchen table and put my head in my hands. It had been the longest day of my life and it wasn’t even over. Not only was my meeting with Tara a complete waste of time, but I had to leave without any explanation. It took me half an hour to get to Paisley. The entire drive from Yates’ Motorcycles, I willed my bike to go faster. I wanted to get to my daughter as soon as possible, but when I got there, I still felt like I’d taken too long.
Ever since Claire’s death, I’d done the best I could to be a dad to Paisley. Still, I knew it wasn’t enough. Paisley barely spoke to me. She rarely ate a full meal. She was distant and stand-offish. It was my job to bring her out of her shell and to help her through the loss of her mother, but I wasn’t able to do that. I wasn’t able to do anything for her. Until today.
Hearing her whisper “thank you” meant more to me than anything else. For the first time, I finally felt like I was doing something right. Even if she was still calling me Sean, she was grateful to have me around. Right then, that was more than enough.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tara
Two days went by without a word from Sean. After he ran out of the conference room on Wednesday, I tried calling him but he never answered. I tried again all day Thursday and still, nothing. By lunch time on Friday, my patience was gone. I was livid as I marched down the hall toward Ray’s office. His door was open so I stepped inside without knocking.
“We need to talk about Sean,” I said. Ray looked up with a frown.
“Yes?” he asked.
“He isn’t returning my phone calls
, and he hasn’t been in since Wednesday,” I explained. “At this point, the only worthwhile excuse would be—”
“Maybe he just got busy,” Ray suggested with a shrug.
“And that’s okay with you?” I asked in disbelief.
“Of course not.” Ray sighed. “But what are we going to do about it? Have him arrested? Bust down his door?”
From his tone, I knew Ray wasn’t serious, but there was something incredibly appealing about his suggestions. If Sean wasn’t going to answer my phone calls, then there was only one thing left for me to do.
“Can you give me his address?” I asked suddenly. Ray’s expression changed from mild amusement to genuine concern in an instant.
“I don’t know,” he said with a shake of his head. “He won’t like it if you just show up at his house, Tara.”
“At this point, I don’t care,” I said. “Ray, he can’t act this way. He’s under contract with this company, and I’m not about to stand by while he runs our name into the ground.”
“Okay,” Ray said. “If you’re sure you want to risk it.”
“I am,” I said firmly. “Text me the address. I’m leaving now.”
“Good luck,” Ray said. I could tell from his voice that he didn’t think my plan was a good one, but he’d left me in charge of Sean throughout this new ad campaign and I wasn’t going to shirk my duties. If Sean refused to show up and do his job, I would just have to make him.
The ride to Sean’s house was longer than I expected. I knew he lived out of town, but I didn’t realize it was half an hour away. I drove down the highway with my windows rolled down, enjoying a rare Arizona breeze. I couldn’t remember the last time I spent any time just driving around in my car. I used to love random road trips. Blasting music, eating junk food, driving with no destination in mind. It was my therapy when I was young.
Back then, I would take my car or my bike and just disappear. I hadn’t ridden a motorcycle in years. Ever since I started working at Yates’, I stopped having the time. Eventually, I sold my bike and gave it up as a bad hobby. It was ironic, really, that after years of being obsessed with bikes it took working for a major motorcycle manufacturer for me to finally give it up completely.
