by K. A. Linde
Stopping at a bench on the mostly empty campus, I pulled out my cell phone, pushed down all the fears that had clouded my mind the last two days, and called my father. After five or six rings, I was sure he wasn’t going to answer.
Then, the line picked up, and my father’s deep baritone came through the line, “Hello, Aribel.”
“Hi, Dad,” I whispered.
He gave me no indication as to what he was thinking, so I dived in, “How are you and Mom and Aaron?”
“We’re fine, Aribel. Is there a reason you called?”
Ah. There it was—the reason I was so blunt. Like father, like daughter.
“I’ve had a rough couple of days and wanted to talk to my dad. Is that not acceptable anymore?”
“Did you break up with your boyfriend?”
“No. In fact, we’re better than ever. When are you going to get over that? I was calling because I was with his family and realized how much they loved and cared for each other. It made me miss you guys. I want things to get back to normal, but I can’t tolerate you being so derogatory toward Grant.”
After a short pause, my father responded, “Okay. Tell me about him because the man I met is not fit for my daughter.”
I sighed. “He’s sweet, Daddy. He cares about me. Ever since we’ve been together, he’s wanted to better himself—not just for me, but also for himself. He had a job at a recording studio, but then a big label signed his band, and he’s been on tour. I don’t know what you want me to say. He makes me feel. Do you know what I mean? That I feel alive?”
“It sounds like childish frivolity to me.”
All I wanted to do was bang my head against the bench. How could I get through to him?
“Before Grant, I wasn’t happy, Dad. I dated guys who I didn’t care about because I thought they were the kind of people I was supposed to date. They were the people you’d raised me to find worth in. When Grant pursued me, I couldn’t see past his flaws. Rock band? Bad. No college? Worse. Thought he could get someone like me without even trying? Laughable.”
I smiled at the memories and how much I’d changed.
“Then, I got to know Grant. I got to see how fiercely he loves his family and protects his friends, how eager he is to succeed, and how much he was trying to get to know me—not the me who drives a BMW and has a CEO for a father. You’d raised me to see the good in people, Dad, but you didn’t mean people like Grant. You didn’t mean someone who could corrupt your baby…who couldn’t take care of me. That’s your problem, not mine.”
“What are you trying to say, Aribel?”
“I’m saying that I don’t need to be taken of. I’m a smart, independent woman. You raised me to be that way, and now, you seem frustrated when I’ve chosen my own path. I don’t want the people you’ve been introducing me to. I want Grant, and all I’m asking is for you to give him a chance. I don’t expect things to change overnight, but he’s not who you think he is.”
My father sighed. I could practically see him pressing two fingers to his temple and leaning forward at his desk.
“You know I want you to be happy, Aribel. I want someone who is worthy of the strong woman your mother and I raised you to be.”
“He is. Grant is.” I sounded breathless. “Plus, I’ve been doing good things with my life, so it’s not as if he’s changed who I am. I got straight As in my classes this semester, and my organic chemistry professor offered me an internship position, working in his lab for the summer.”
“Now, that is what I like to hear. When do you start?”
“Monday. It’s unpaid, but it’s a foot in the door.”
“It’s all about who you know and how hard you work.”
“You’re right,” I agreed easily. Then, I immediately switched back to the original subject. “So, about Grant…”
He sighed heavily again. “I don’t want to create a wedge between us.”
“Then, don’t let it,” I urged.
“Okay, fine. Your mother and I will discuss it, and we’ll find a time to come down and have a proper meeting with the young man. Is his band still touring? When would be convenient?”
“Oh my God!” I cried. I’d never expected my dad to agree. It wasn’t a statement that said he was okay with me dating Grant, but it was a step in the right direction. “No. No, he’s not on tour right now. Anytime is good. I can double-check with him, but whenever you’re free should be fine.”
We chatted for a few minutes after that before he had to get off the phone to get back to work. I knew that everything wasn’t fixed. I knew that my father still likely saw this whole thing as a phase, something I’d get over. But I knew better. Eventually, he’d see it, too.
I’d made it halfway back to Grant’s house when I received an incoming call from him. “Hey! I’m on my way back to you.”
“You’ll never guess what happened!”
“What?” I asked.
“Hollis called at the beginning of rehearsal. Within the month, we’re leaving for L.A. to record our debut studio album!”
“Grant, that’s amazing! Congratulations!”
“I had to call you and let you know. How did things go with your family?”
“Better than expected,” I admitted. “My father is finding out when he and my mom can come down here to meet you again…try to get to know the real Grant McDermott.”
“Princess, the real Grant McDermott would scare them shitless.”
I cracked up. “You’re ridiculous. A real charmer.”
“That’s fucking right. So, when are they coming to visit? We’re planning another League show since we’re back in town. Maybe they could come see the band? See that we’re not some hooligans or whatever the fuck they probably think.”
“Hooligans? Really?” I shook my head. “I’ll find out when they’ll be here, but hopefully, they can make a show. I think that’s a great idea.”
“I think you’re a great idea. Hurry up and get your hot body over here, so we can celebrate.”
I rushed over to Grant’s house and let his tender kisses, wandering hands, and effortless lovemaking wash away the events of the last couple of days.
In his arms, I was home.
Two and a half weeks later, I stared through the smudged glass window of The Coffee Bean at the mostly empty location. During the school year, the small coffee shop was jam-packed with students studying. I’d brought Ari here once when I was first pursuing her. I could see our booth from where I was standing.
A girl jostled me out of the way as she reached for the door. “Excuse me,” she said in a way that made her sound like a rude bitch.
“Sure thing,” I said sarcastically.
All I had to do was go inside.
Open the door.
Walk one foot in front of the other.
Sit down.
It was that simple yet that difficult.
Why had I agreed to do this?
All the confidence and fucking swagger in the world couldn’t make me feel any better about the situation. But I couldn’t go back now. It had been my decision after all. Everyone else might have agreed that it was in my best interest as they nudged me in the direction, but ultimately, I’d made the choice.
Taking a deep breath and reminding myself that I wasn’t a fucking pussy, I opened the door to The Coffee Bean and walked toward a booth in the back of the shop where my dad was seated. When I reached the table, my father’s head tilted up and looked at me.
“Grant,” he said, surprised, as if he hadn’t believed I’d actually show.
I plopped my ass down in the seat across from him, crossed my arms, and slouched backward. No fucking way was I letting my guard down through this exchange. I still didn’t trust him. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve got other shit to do.”
The surprise on his face evaporated. No fucking lovey-dovey moments for me. I couldn’t forget who this was just because we were having one conversation. I was willing to hear him out, but I didn’t have to make i
t easy for him.
“Right. What are your plans?” he asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Just curious about your life, Grant.”
“And you have a lot of time to make up for.”
He clenched his jaw. “I do. You’re right.” His whole face slackened, and he took a shuddering breath. “I have a lot more to make up for than time, too. I…I want you to know that I am so sorry about everything that happened.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “That night with your mother should never have happened. I take full responsibility for my actions, but it should never have happened. You were way too young to witness something so traumatizing.”
I turned my head away from his words. They hit so close to home. It was the exact thing I’d been pushing away my entire life. They were the same words Ari had said to me the night she had found out what happened.
“I loved her so much, Grant. She was too young to die. She should have been here to raise you.” My father covered his eyes with his hand and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. God, I can’t even get this all out. I want to apologize the right way. I know I don’t know what you went through afterward, but I know that I was depressed beyond belief. I was so guilt-ridden. I contemplated killing myself. It felt easier than dealing with the pain.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised despite myself.
“Yes. It was rock-bottom for me. It’s what made me decide to go to therapy. After what I’d done, I knew I couldn’t leave you all alone without either parent. So, I want you to know I’ll be here, trying to make it up to you, for as long as you’ll let me.”
“Yeah,” I said, reeling slightly from the stark apology. “So, what exactly is this? What do you want from me?”
“What do I want from you? Grant, I’m your father. I want to get to know you. Is that so hard to believe?”
It actually was. How could the person who had said and done such horrible things think one heartfelt apology and getting to know me would change anything? That wasn’t fucking reality.
Then, Ari’s words from the first day when I’d seen my dad nagged at me.
“If you can change as much as you have in the past six months with me, it’s not inconceivable to think he’s changed in thirteen years.”
Fine, Ari. Fine.
“It is hard for me to believe. The last time we spoke before you went to prison, you said you were going to get me for what I did to you,” I finally said.
“I…I never said that,” he said. His eyes suddenly looked confused and unfocused.
“Yes, you did. I’ve been thinking about that moment every day for thirteen years. I didn’t suddenly make up what you said.”
My father shook his head and closed his eyes. “I don’t…I don’t remember saying anything like that. Is that what made you think I was going to harm you when I came to your house?”
I nodded. I couldn’t believe what he was saying. He couldn’t remember threatening my life?
“My God,” he said, covering his mouth. “I’ve spent the last thirteen years trying to do everything I can to better myself and get out to see you, and you’ve spent them thinking I was going to kill you at the first opportunity.”
“What was I supposed to think?” I asked. Suddenly, I was more frustrated than ever. All this time, I’d had to deal with the guilt and pain on my own. Now, my father was saying that all of it was fucking pointless. “You never tried to contact me. You never apologized or tried to explain.”
“You’re right. I am guilty of that.”
And he looked guilty—his head hung low to his chest, his mouth drawn, his shoulders sagged.
“I wrote you letters in prison. But I couldn’t send them. For a long time, I thought I wasn’t good enough to be a father for you. Randy was taking care of you. You deserved the best, but I was too messed up to be that for you. Hell, I’m still not anywhere close. But it made me try harder. My therapist said I should send them to you once I’d made sufficient progress, but by then, it felt…too late. It wasn’t until I knew I was getting released early that I managed some semblance of hope for the first time.”
I turned my face away from my father and stared out through the coffee shop window. Because of everything I’d endured, I hated to think anything he was saying made sense. But in his words, I recognized how much he despised himself, and I heard the hope just as easily.
“So, where do we go from here?” I finally asked.
“Honestly, it is completely up to you. My therapist suggested I leave the ball in your court. You know I want to get to know you, and I know we won’t suddenly become father and son again overnight. I’d be happy to come and have coffee with you here when you have some spare time.”
“That’s it? Just coffee?”
“I do have a small request if you’re up for it.”
I narrowed my eyes. Here it was. “What?”
“This might sound crazy for you, but I’d really like you to come to therapy with me sometime.”
“Therapy?” I asked incredulously. I didn’t need fucking therapy. I didn’t need to talk to some quack about my problems. Just because it supposedly worked for my dad didn’t mean it would work for me.
He barked a short laugh. “That was my exact reaction when it was first suggested to me.”
I glared back at him. That was not what I’d wanted to hear.
“I want us to get to know each other. I want us to be able to remember the past, confront the past, and also move on from the past. I can’t fix our problems though. I’m no professional, and our issues are too deeply ingrained in both of us.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Once I finally admitted I needed help, I found help. You might find it, too. My therapist was the one who pushed me to reach out to you in the first place.”
“I don’t need help,” I muttered.
“Grant, you saw something terribly traumatic because of what I did. I think you know you should go.”
My father sat back in his chair and waited. He didn’t say anything else. He just looked at me. It was pretty clear to anyone around that we were related—same facial shape, same dark hair, same brown eyes.
If only there were something else between us that was similar…then maybe we could reconnect.
Did I even want to search for that something?
Was there a thread that inherently connected us somehow?
Despite all the years apart, the jail time, the gun I’d pulled on him, I knew the look he was giving me was one of disappointment…and I hated disappointing him. It was ingrained in me.
Fuck! No! I was not going to fucking therapy. So fucking stupid.
“I can’t do therapy.”
“Okay, Grant,” he said, resigned. “Well, I’m glad that we’re talking again. That’s a step.”
It was.
I stared down at my hands and tried not to think about all the emotions rushing at me head-on. I was sitting here, talking with my father. He had apologized for what had happened. He still loved me and wanted to get to know me.
The reason I was sitting here right now was because some part of me knew that if I hadn’t at least tried, I’d regret it. One day, my dad would be dead—just like my mom. One day, he wouldn’t come back into my life. He’d be gone forever. Then, what?
Then, I would be fucked for the rest of my life—again. No mother, no father. And as much as I loved the rest of my family, my brothers, Ari, it would be different. I had this man’s blood. He was the only parent I had left. I didn’t live for regrets.
I sighed heavily. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. “Okay.”
“Okay?” he asked.
“I’ll try it out—on one condition.”
His face lit up. “Anything! Of course.”
“You try my therapy.”
His eyebrows rose questioningly. “What do you mean?”
“The one thing that always had my back, that always listened, that always made everything better while I was all alone was my music.” I g
lanced away from him and then back. “My band has a show this weekend…I don’t know if you…you know…want to come?”
He beamed at the invitation. “I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Okay. Well then, I guess we’ll figure out the other stuff later.”
I glanced down at the time on my cell phone. I couldn’t believe nearly an hour had passed. The time had flown by. But I needed to get out of here. It was too much all at one time.
“I’m going to head out now, but, uh…I’ll see you Saturday at The Ivy League.”
We both stood. My father stuck his hand out at me, and I slowly placed mine in his. We shook hands. Tears welled in my father’s eyes. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. My own resolve was weakening.
“Thank you for giving me this chance, son.”
“Thanks for proving that you deserve it.”
“I have a surprise for you,” Grant whispered in my ear as we stood backstage.
“What is it?”
His nose trailed down the soft contours of my neck, making my skin break out into goose bumps. His lips landed on my shoulder as his fingers made a line up the waist of my light-pink sundress.
“It’s not a surprise if I tell you, Princess.”
“It’s a tiara, isn’t it? You’ve finally realized that I need a tiara with this whole princess routine.”
He laughed and nipped at my skin. “Cheeky tonight, aren’t we?”
“Every night.” I turned around and wrapped my arms around his neck. “So, what is it?”
“Later. It’ll come in parts throughout the night.”
“Parts?” My eyebrows rose. “This sounds complicated.”
“Well, part of it just walked through the door,” he said, pointing through the open stage door that led out into the audience.
My eyes searched through the sea of people already out there until I saw where he was pointing. My mouth dropped open and I gasped. “Are those my parents?”
“Yep.”
