I nod. My voice is too untrustworthy to risk speech. I take a step after him, catch his shirt and pull him close for one more kiss. It’s the only way I can think of to show him how much I needed him today. And how grateful I am he was here.
Despite the Sebastian interruption, I reach Sweety’s six minutes before the appointed time. Will he be early? Mum always says I get my punctuality from him, but then again he had good reasons to make sure she didn’t go checking on him.
I press my shaking hand to the glass door and push it open.
And then freeze.
Standing there in the doorway I have about as much movement in me as the contents of one of the ice-cream tubs in the huge freezer.
Mum is here.
She’s in a booth at the far end of the shop, her head thrown back as she laughs prettily at something a man with black hair and a brown scarf says. Her eyes sparkle and she takes his hand. He squeezes and the laughter fades into something sweeter. I can’t see his face but it has to be Colin.
My belly flips. I have to get out of here.
Stepping backwards, I collide with someone trying to enter behind me. My momentum carries us both out and onto the pavement in a stumble to stay upright. A glance inside shows Mum hasn’t noticed me. She’s too involved with her date.
I turn to apologise to the stranger I rammed into, and the flip in my belly becomes a double pike with twist. The brown eyes I remember from my childhood are looking right into mine.
‘Sorry,’ he says in a gruff voice.
This is it.
My father is standing within touching distance. I open my mouth to speak, but before I can say anything he’s stepping past me. My thumping heart is about to burst out of my mouth.
He doesn’t know who I am.
The moan comes unbidden. A soft cry of pain from deep in my throat as my eyes burn and my head reels back as though struck.
He doesn’t know who I am.
His hand is on the door but doesn’t push it open. ‘Kathleen?’ The brown eyes return to my face, they search it and the whole time I stand there. Stunned. Hurting. ‘Kathleen?’
I nod.
His smile reveals teeth crooked like mine were before the braces I wore in year nine – braces that he had to pay for. ‘I’m Marty.’ He hesitates, and I know I will replay and analyse why later. ‘Your father.’
He holds out a hand but I don’t take it. I can’t. Touching him might make this real and I don’t know if I can survive real. Easier to pretend I’m playing this meeting out in my mind like I have so many times before.
Although I never imagined we’d be meeting in the same place where Mum was laughing with her date. I turn back to check they still haven’t noticed. We’re safe for now, but they could stand to leave at any moment. ‘We need to go somewhere else.’
Marty’s dark eyebrows meet in the middle of his forehead like puzzled caterpillars but he doesn’t argue when I lead the way toward a café on the next block. He trails behind me and I imagine him studying me and trying to find the little girl he knew in the person I’ve become.
Or maybe he’s regretting he sent me the letter.
The sun is low and weak in the sky but it’s me wanting to avoid Mum walking past and spotting me that sends me inside, not the cold. Marty and I sit opposite each other at a plastic table. Between us is a fake tulip in a vase and a small pot of sugar.
‘Would you like a coffee?’ he asks.
I shake my head as the waitress comes over. He orders a black coffee with two sugars with a friendly smile and I take the opportunity to study him. He’s polite and pleasant to the purple-haired girl and I’m glad. I hate people who talk down to serving staff as though they’re beneath them.
My father’s not bad looking. Neat, short brown hair, slightly receding. His build is trim beneath a long charcoal coat and he’s wearing a shirt and tie. Is this his normal Sunday attire or did he dress to meet me?
The waitress leaves and he catches me staring at him.
I flush but refuse to look away. Instead I lean forward, try to pin him to the seat opposite with all the years of anger inside me. ‘Why now?’
His hands fold on the table and I wonder if it’s to still some nervous trembling or whether it’s a delaying tactic that’s helped make him so successful in business. ‘I had a heart attack three months ago.’ His shoulders lift. ‘I was afraid I might die without seeing the person you’ve become.’
‘How ironic.’ I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice. ‘It was a heart scare that had Mum rushing to hospital to be at her husband’s side nine years ago. Wasn’t it?’
He nods and his forehead shines under the café’s lights. He’s sweating and I’m glad. He deserves to sweat.
My lip curls. ‘It’s a pity she wasn’t the only woman who believed she was your wife to turn up.’
‘I never meant to …’
‘What? Have them meet. Of course you didn’t.’ I laugh but my throat aches. ‘Most men struggle to handle one wife but you …’ I shake my head and allow my tone to fill with disgust. ‘You couldn’t even stop at two.’
‘I made a mistake.’
‘Several, from what I remember of the headlines.’ Bumping into the beautiful Carmella at the hospital was only the beginning. Memories I’ve kept locked up flood my brain. ‘You were basically married to three different women. How can that happen by mistake?’
‘I was young. Stupid.’ His tone is even but his head is bowed. He won’t look at me. ‘I’m sorry.’
He sounds sorry but I can’t let myself care. ‘You’re sorry? I wanted you to die. I was eight and I remember thinking it would have been better if one of the planes you travelled on crashed and then hating myself because more people would have suffered.’ I half-snort through my nose as I catch my breath. My blood is pounding in my ears as I wait for him to look up, to at least give me the respect of looking me in the eye. When he does at last I growl at him across the table. ‘But that was nothing, nothing at all compared to how much I hated you.’
I’ve said it.
I’ve said the words I’ve wanted to say for years but it doesn’t help. The hole in my heart doesn’t fill in. I can’t make memories of a father at all those functions where Mum had to pull double duty as both parents. Nothing about this changes the past.
‘I’m sorry.’ This time he is looking me in the eye but it still doesn’t make it better.
Now the memories won’t let me be. He travelled. A lot. Now I know it was probably a sham to keep up his triple life, but then I missed Daddy.
He’d be gone a week at a time and Mum and I would make a special trip to pick him up from the airport. We never imagined that he had another wife halfway across the country, and worse somehow, the beginnings of a whole other family across town.
‘I made freaking signs to welcome you home.’
His eyes are dark pools of pain. ‘I didn’t come here to ask your forgiveness.’
‘Good, because you’re not getting it.’ I cross my arms and harden my heart. ‘What do you want?’
‘I wanted to tell you …’ His voice trails off and his lower lip quivers.
‘What?’ I will not feel anything but loathing for this man. I will not.
‘It was never because of you.’
And something inside me breaks. It shifts and I have to support myself with two hands on the plastic seat because I fear I’ll tip sideways. ‘Whatever,’ I say, but inside I take those words and wrap them up tightly to be taken out later and examined.
He reaches out across the table like he wants to take my hand, but I can’t let go of the edges of the seat. My world is tilting and shaking. He picks up the fake tulip instead, turns it once and then places it gently, as though it’s actually alive, back in the vase.
He sighs. ‘I can’t make it up to you.’
‘No crap.’
‘But I’m grateful you came here today.’
He’s grateful? I grip the seat so hard my knuckles ache. �
�How could it have happened?’
His hands twist and turn over each other. ‘It’s impossible to explain.’
I lean back in the seat, without letting go but aiming for a relaxed I’ve-got-all-day expression. ‘Try me.’
His coffee comes then. It’s not steaming and I wonder whether the waitress was waiting for a lull in the conversation to dare set the small white cup and saucer down. She’s rough with it and the black liquid slops out the side and forms a murky puddle around the cup.
Has she been listening to us? Her hands go to her hips like she’s daring him to say something so she can give him an earful. Marty doesn’t complain and she stalks back behind the counter. He sips the coffee.
I wait.
He sets the cup down with a clink and a splash. ‘Your mother was my high school sweetheart. We married young. There was never meant to be anyone else.’
‘Oops.’
He doesn’t respond to my sarcasm. ‘I met Carmella through work. She was in desperate trouble. There were people … It’s hard to explain but my protection helped.’
‘How romantic. So you weren’t a three-timing jerk but a knight in shining armour. And the other one?’
He shrugs. ‘By then I thought I was invincible. You tell enough lies without getting caught and … I started to believe them. I thought I could do whatever I wanted and no one would get hurt. You can’t imagine what it’s like. Three fake lives, three women who all deserved better. Not being honest was the biggest mistake of my life.’
Something like guilt settles in my belly. Because I do understand. A little. ‘But you were caught?’
He nods with a weary movement. ‘And it all fell apart.’
‘Then what?’
‘You want me to say I regret what happened? Of course I do. No one deserves what I did to them.’ His eyes close for a second and a pulse tics in his jaw. ‘It was a nightmare. The media were all over it.’
‘I remember.’ I lean forward, risk letting go. ‘What happened after?’
His hand rubs at the balding spot above his temple. ‘It could have been jail time but thanks to the dubious credentials of the celebrants the bigamy charge didn’t stick. I moved out of a visible role at work and let the fuss die down. Carmella waited for me through the legal stuff. I guess she didn’t really have a choice. She’s not strong like your mother. We’ve been together since.’
The words shouldn’t hurt. I’ve long since mentally cut this man from my life so I shouldn’t care about what he’s been doing, except there’s one more thing … ‘She was pregnant.’ I have to choke the words out. It made the whole thing worse somehow for Mum. She could hardly pretend he hadn’t been sleeping around when the paparazzi picked up the case. Mum sleep-dishevelled in her dressing gown spliced next to the glowingly pregnant Carmella made a great headline shot.
Marty nods. ‘We have two children.’
I want to run out of this dingy café with its fake flowers and plastic seats. Or at the very least to stick my fingers in my ears and make noise until it all goes away. But for some reason I can’t make myself end this conversation.
‘Tell me about them.’ I blurt out the words before my instinct for self-preservation stops me.
For the first time he brightens. ‘I can do better than that.’ He pulls his phone from his pocket and flicks it to photos. Then he slides it across the table. Two faces smile up at me with the light of love in their eyes. A boy and a girl look adoringly at the person taking the photo. I imagine them all laughing together as my father – their father – captures the shot.
‘Twins?’
He nods. ‘Ten next July.’ Pride colours his voice.
My teeth clench. They were born right when everything in my life went to hell.
I shove the phone back across the table. My eyes close on the hot sting of jealous tears. I will not let them fall. If a single one slides down my cheek he’ll know I give a damn that he left me but he stayed with them.
And I don’t. I don’t. I don’t.
But the image of their smiling faces stays against my eyelids. Their perfect brown skin, hair even darker than mine, almost black eyes filled with mischief, and matching dimples highlighting their cheeky grins.
Two beautiful, happy children. Something about the little girl …
‘Anna looks a little like you,’ Marty says.
I shake my head and open my eyes. ‘She’s nothing to do with me. And neither are you.’
He reaches out to grab the hand I didn’t realise I’d placed on the table. His touch is gentle but strong. ‘But we can be. They’re your siblings and I’m your father.’
Siblings … I’ve never wanted a brother or sister. The fierce unity between Sebastian and Lana isn’t a part of my universe. And I don’t miss it. I won’t waste a second wondering whether those kids are as cute in real life as in the photo.
I pull my hand away, ignoring the silly leap of my heart. ‘You’re too late.’ I stand, looking down on him. ‘About nine years too late.’
And I walk past him and out into the afternoon without looking back.
CHAPTER
17
I’m still shaking as I walk the path to my front door and it’s not from the light breeze or mild evening air. It’s exhilaration. I stormed out on my father.
For the first time in my life I stood up, refused to take someone’s crap, and said my piece.
The rush of the moment has me high and victorious. I pretty much bounce home, replaying his stunned expression when I left him mouth agape in the café. I taught him what it’s like to be walked out on. I showed him that I won’t wait around for him to decide he wants to be in my life.
The feeling lasts as I duck under the low hanging branches with their last autumn leaves. As I hurry past the barking dog with the crazy eyes a block from home. And as I wait at the last corner for three cars to drive by – a positive traffic jam for our street.
Regret hits me at the front door.
It isn’t the memory of the pain in his eyes or the image of the siblings I refuse to be curious about. There is no triumph here. I lost. I let him off with a couple of hard questions and a whole lot of long silences. My big confrontation was nothing more than an opportunity for him to ease his conscience.
He didn’t ask a single thing about me.
Not once did he say, ‘So how have you been for the last nine years?’
I lean on the door handle to help my knees out. They’re strangely wobbly and the cramped feeling in my chest is back with a vengeance. The door opens from the inside and I have to stop myself from falling flat on my face.
It’s Mum wearing a lotto grin. ‘I thought I heard you. Dinner’s on the table.’
She’s too happy. I glance behind her but there’s stillness from inside. ‘Is Colin here?’
‘No, but we had a wonderful time.’
For a second I would swear there are actual stars in her eyes, but it’s only the reflection of the porch light. I trail her inside. ‘Can I change?’
‘Sure.’
I escape to my bedroom and find my most comfy trackies. I need a second to think.
How can I tell Mum what happened? She’s so happy and I don’t want to take that from her. I don’t even know how to put today into words. The fact I didn’t tell her about the email. And then his pride in those kids and his new family.
But I can’t stay in my bedroom forever.
I stop at the door to the kitchen-meals area. Mum’s at the sink, staring out through the window into the night. Her smile is a slight curve of shining lips. It speaks of remembered touches and moments she’ll replay until she sees him again.
I know that feeling – it’s the way I am after I’ve seen Sebastian – and I can’t spoil it. Not tonight. We’ve been through so much together. I just hope that, when I work out the words for everything that’s been going on, she’ll be ready to listen.
She looks up, catching me staring. Her smile widens. ‘Come on, you, have a seat. Tell
me about your day.’
I have no intention of doing so, but I nod and sit at the table. ‘How was the movie?’
* * *
Despite my fears that I’d toss and turn all night worrying about how to tell Mum, I sleep so heavily on Sunday night that I miss my alarm and have to run to avoid a late slip. All day Monday I hope to see Sebastian but he doesn’t turn up at lunchtime and I don’t bump into him on my detour past the IT building. Joel is moping about all morning and I don’t see Lana either. When I see Chay near our gum tree she’s late for something. Barely stopping, she explains being missing at lunch by saying she wanted to give me and Sebastian space.
It suits me.
I can’t stop thinking about Dad and what he said. It’s easier than thinking about everything he wasn’t interested in. Like me.
Not being honest was the biggest mistake of his life, and while I’m going through the motions of school, Sebastian could be finding out I’m behind the fake guy messing with his sister. Or I was. The fact that Chay has frozen me out of the revenge plan won’t make Sebastian any less pissed if he discovers what we’ve done.
I finally see Sebastian from a distance after school. He’s crossing the grounds with Joel and some of the other soccer boys. They must have forgiven him for his no-show at the game the other night.
I’m tempted to stay and watch them train, but Lana’s already up in the stands with some of her friends, so I leave.
Mum is busy as usual in the salon when I get home but she calls out a cheery greeting as I head up the stairs. I try to do homework but I can’t focus on the words in my textbook because all I can think about is Mum’s reaction to me seeing Dad, and what Sebastian will do when he discovers I’ve been lying to him.
After an hour of achieving nothing, I go back downstairs. Mum’s appointment book will tell me when she’ll be done and at least I can get that conversation over with. Mum doesn’t look up from the basin where she’s rinsing out a colour. She’s too busy being regaled by some old lady’s tale of a dodgy hip replacement operation.
The appointment book is open on a small table by the phone. While trying to remain inconspicuous, I scan today. This is Mum’s last appointment and she should be done within the hour. But there’s something else. She’s crossed off tomorrow.
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