Last Call

by Kelly, A. S.

  “Pasta with a creamy mushroom and bacon sauce. I hope you like it,” she says to us both, before turning her attention to my daughter. “You must be Skylar.”

  “She’s smart,” Skylar says to me.

  “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “Then I imagine you’ve got a pretty good idea of what I’m like.”

  “Not really. I usually prefer to get to know someone before I decide to believe what I’ve heard. Otherwise your dad would definitely not have been invited tonight.”

  I shake my head, watching my daughter lift her chin and study Iris intently. I’ll discover soon whether she’s decided to play her usual games with her, or give in.

  “Do you know a lot about my dad?”

  I should’ve known this would happen.

  “I know enough to fill the entire evening, my dear.”

  Skylar smiles, satisfied. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

  Iris hands me a glass of wine, which we drink as we’re standing in the kitchen, waiting for dinner to be ready. I’ve never been to her house before, and, to be honest, I’m not sure why she really invited me here this evening; but I don’t want to think about it too much. I just wanted to spend an evening with someone who wasn’t my mum or dad, and I wanted Skylar to meet her, seeing as she’s not made any real friends yet – apart from Carter, and I’m not sure she’d class him as a friend. So I decided to take the situation into my own hands.

  “She seems like a smart girl.”

  I look at my daughter, who is nosing around Iris’ living room, a glass of 7Up in her hand.

  “Too smart, trust me,” I comment, before taking a few sips of my wine.

  “She’s a lot like you.”

  “Do you think?”

  She nods.

  “I think she’s all her mother.”

  Iris smiles warmly. “I can’t imagine how she must be feeling at the moment.”

  “Me neither, Iris. I really want to know. I want her to open up – I might be able to help her, or…” I sigh, frustrated. “I want to do more for her.”

  “She’s here, with you. She’s at home.”

  “I don’t know if this is home for her. I’m not even sure if it’s home for me.”

  “Just give it a little time. Everything will work out.”

  “I really hope so.”

  “Oh, my God!” Skylar cries, coming towards us, with a frame between her hands. “What’s this?” she asks, showing us a photo of Iris with Jordan.

  “My granddaughter,” she says, feigning innocence.

  “Did you know this?” she asks me, making Iris burst into laughter.

  “I grew up here, remember?”

  Iris moves closer to Skylar and looks at the photo. “This was at her graduation.”

  “There are photos of you two everywhere,” Skylar comments.

  “Yes, I like having them around. It reminds me of some of the best moments of my life.”

  Skylar looks around, confused, so I decide to intervene as discreetly as possible.

  “Jordan… I mean, Ms Hill, grew up with Iris.”

  “Oh,” Skylar exclaims, surprised.

  “Her parents died when she was fifteen,” Iris says, cautiously. “Her mother worked in my shop. She was like a daughter to me.”

  “So you’re not related? She’s not really your granddaughter?”

  “I was the only person she had left, and she was the only family I had.”

  “Did you adopt her?”

  “I became her legal guardian. Her entire life was here: her friends, the places she loved, her roots. She had just lost her parents – I’d never have let her lose everything else, too.”

  “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.”

  Is my daughter really apologising for something she didn’t even do?

  “You weren’t insensitive.”

  “Okay.”

  “She was a great girl – like you.”

  Skylar smiles a little.

  “And she grew up to be a strong, beautiful woman.”

  “Yeah, she’s cool.”

  I smile, too, watching my daughter, who seems to comfortable and open with Iris.

  “Now, let’s sit down. You two must be starving.”

  “I am, to be honest,” I tell her, shamelessly.

  My appetite has tripled since I moved back here.

  “You go and dig in. I’ll be right there.”

  I head towards the table nestled between the kitchen and the living room, where my daughter is already sitting. I put down my glass of wine, but before I can sit, there’s a knock at the door.

  “Would you mind answering that, please, Niall?” Iris calls from the kitchen.

  I do as she asks, reaching the front door. When I open it and find her standing in front of me, I realise that my return to this town has more than one motive. Fate – or just blind luck – has decided to give me a second chance. A chance I don’t intend to lose hold of, this time. Not for anything.

  Jordan

  “I can never find my keys in this damn bag! The door downstairs was open, so…” I lift my gaze and said bag goes crashing to the floor from my hand.

  “Hello, Headmistress.” His warm, mischievous smile catches me off-guard.

  He bends down to collect my bag from the floor and hands it to me.

  “What…what are you doing here…?”

  “Iris invited me for dinner.”

  “Iris…what?”

  “I bumped into her this morning and she wanted to meet Skylar, so…here we are.”

  “So…I guess there’s no emergency, then.”

  He looks quizzically at me.

  “She sent me a message saying that she needed me to catch a mouse for her.”

  He can’t hold back his laughter.

  “Apparently you’re the mouse.”

  “Oh, darling,” Iris says, appearing at the door. “What are you doing here?”

  Niall laughs again as I roll my eyes and push past them.

  “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” I ask, accusingly.

  “Maybe it was just a false alarm.”

  “Oh, please!”

  “But seeing as you’re here, you may as well stay for dinner.”

  I shake my head in embarrassment. I obviously wasn’t expecting to find him here, and I wasn’t expecting to see him again so soon. I still haven’t had a chance to process everything that happened yesterday or to work out why I never replied to him; to understand why I find it so difficult to believe that he’s really interested in me. And now he’s here, in my grandmother’s house, having dinner – and I’m standing there in my sweaty gym clothes and… Oh, my God. I actually care about the way I look in front of him.

  “Hi, Ms Hill.”

  Skylar’s voice brings me back into the present. “Hi, Skylar.”

  “Looks like we’ve both been dragged into this.”

  I smile at her. “I guess we have.”

  “Come on everyone, sit down. Otherwise my special sauce will get cold.”

  Iris disappears into the kitchen as I take off my jacket and set down my bag.

  “I’m going to wash my hands,” I say, happy to have found an excuse to disappear.

  I lock myself in the bathroom, rapidly washing my hands, and glance in the mirror. It’s probably best if I don’t touch my hair – I don’t think I’d ever be able to undo that damage – so I splash some water on my face and dab it with a towel. I take a few deep breaths then decide to go back out and join the others at the table. Iris has already set a place for me.

  I settle myself between her and Skylar, with Niall opposite me. It’s a square table: ideal for two people, but a little tight for four. It’s impossible for me to avoid his gaze.

  “Wine?” he asks, lifting the bottle.

  “Just half a glass, thanks.”

  He humours me, before pouring a glass for my grandmother.

  “Don’t be stingy with me, boy.”

  Ni
all laughs; even Skylar manages a small smile. She even seems to be fairly comfortable, and the sight makes me really happy.

  “Where have you been tonight?” Niall asks suddenly, looking at me.

  “At the gym. Your sister’s gym.” I shove a forkful of food into my mouth, his eyes still resting on me.

  “You do yoga with Rian?” he asks, almost shocked.

  “I’m not sure I could say I do yoga – I try. Just to help with my stress.”

  “And can you do it?” Skylar jumps into the conversation. “All those weird things, bending yourself into knots, standing with one foot on the other…?”

  “Not really. But it helps me unwind.”

  “I think it’s boring.”

  “You think everything’s boring,” Niall says to her.

  “True. Especially you.”

  “What do you like, Skylar?” Iris interjects. “Do you like reading? Or maybe something more artistic, like…painting?”

  Skylar glances at her – I’ve realised that she doesn’t like people to know what she does. And I’m definitely not going to be the one to spy on her.

  “Sometimes I read,” she says, vaguely, which catches her father’s attention.

  “I like reading, too. Mainly psychological thrillers: you know, the ones that keep you holding your breath right until the last minute, let you slip inside the characters’ minds. The kind of books that you can’t put down.”

  “Yeah, those aren’t bad.”

  “I prefer romantic comedies,” I find myself adding. “Stories that make you laugh and make you dream.”

  “I don’t read those,” Skylar says, bluntly.

  “Me neither, believe me. I’ve had quite enough of love in my time,” Iris adds.

  I smile a little, feeling slightly awkward, and sip at my wine. I’m not ashamed of the stuff I read, but I sometimes feel ashamed that I’m still such a dreamer – at least within the pages of a book.

  “It’s okay to dream without the risk of getting hurt,” I say under my breath, almost without even realising the words are out of my mouth.

  “But that means you’re dreaming of things that have nothing to do with you,” Niall points out, drawing my attention back towards him.

  “They’re fictional characters. I’m not taking anyone’s dreams from them.”

  “You’re taking them from yourself.”

  I nod, slowly. “I’ve had dreams of my own, Kerry,” I say, bitterly.

  “Dreams that never happened?” Skylar asks me, strangely interested.

  I don’t want the conversation to focus on me, my flaws and my disappointment; but it’s too late. The bitterness has come flooding back into my body.

  “Not everything we want in life can come true, unfortunately.”

  Skylar smiles sadly at me.

  “It’s part of life,” Iris adds. “We just need to accept it.”

  “I don’t believe in all that,” Skylar continues. She’s more chatty than usual, tonight. “In dreams, or desires.”

  “So what do you believe in?” my grandmother asks, discreetly.

  “I believe in the things we build up and create ourselves.”

  Iris smiles at me, as Niall gazes concernedly at his daughter.

  “That sounds like a wonderful outlook on life,” Iris comments. “But you should never forget, my dear, that sometimes, closing your eyes and letting yourself dream is good for your heart.”

  Skylar smiles a little. “I’ll think about it,” she says, before shifting her attention back to her dinner.

  “What about you?” Niall asks, turning towards me. “Will you think about it, too?”

  I don’t know how to respond; it’s not because of what he said, or the gentle way he said it. It’s not because of his magnetic eyes, or that lazy smile. It’s because of this feeling pulsing through me, growing through my body, seeping dangerously into every inch of me.

  “Will you do it?” he asks me, as I’m slipping on my jacket at the front door.

  His daughter is in the kitchen with my grandmother, who is giving her a Tupperware box of biscuits to take home.

  “Just tell me you’ll do it.”

  I open the front door, then turn to face him.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Why don’t you want to tell me?”

  “Goodnight, Kerry.”

  I slip through the door and hurry down the stairs. As soon as I’m outside, I dash over to my building and take the stairs to my apartment two at a time. It’s only when I’m inside, in the silent darkness, grabbing my phone from my bag, typing with heavy fingers and an even heavier heart, that I send him a message:

  Maybe.

  Niall

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Come on, what did I say?!”

  “I’m not coming with you if you’ll be with that bunch of losers.”

  “They’re not losers; they’re sportsmen.”

  “You think there’s a difference?”

  “Now you’re just being offensive.”

  “Don’t tell me you honestly think you’re cool just because you know how to kick a ball?”

  “I’ll pay you.”

  “What?”

  “Fifty euros.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “I’ll give you fifty euros to help me out for two hours.”

  “Wow, you must be desperate.”

  I am; but I don’t want to tell her that.

  “I don’t want to be associated with you. I don’t want you to tell anyone I’m your daughter.”

  How am I supposed to take that?

  “Are you that ashamed of me?”

  She shrugs, but doesn’t make any attempt to reassure me.

  “Do you really think I’m a terrible person?”

  “I never said that.”

  “Well, actually, you never say anything. So you could be thinking anything.”

  She sighs, then speaks again.

  “If anyone finds out about you and the headmistress…” she says, cautiously.

  I hadn’t thought about that. “Then you don’t want to seem like a teacher’s pet?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t want Ms Hill to end up in trouble for it.”

  “Oh.”

  “What?”

  “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

  “What, you think I’m incapable of thinking about other people?”

  “No, I don’t mean that. I just didn’t think you cared about her so much.”

  “She’s helped me out a lot. She’s cool.”

  I can’t help but agree with her. A strange tingling sensation starts to flutter in my stomach.

  “But, unfortunately, you came along.”

  I can always count on my daughter to bring my dreams crashing down.

  “So you don’t think I’m good enough for her?”

  “I think you don’t deserve her, Kerry.”

  “You barely even know me. How can you say something like that? Are you basing all this on the things you’ve read about me?”

  “You said it yourself: I barely know you. Just like you don’t know me – and a man who doesn’t know his own daughter isn’t exactly an amazing person.”

  She’s being harsh with me, but I can’t blame her. Maybe I should ground her for this, or at least shout at her; but what can I do if she’s always right about me?

  “I can’t say it isn’t true, and you don’t seem to be the only one who thinks this. But I promise, I’m trying.”

  “Trying to change my mind? Or someone else’s?”

  “Everyone’s.”

  She glares at me, unconvinced.

  “Just give me a little time.”

  She considers this for a moment, before scoffing and rolling her eyes.

  “I don’t want your fifty euros.”

  “No?”

  “A father shouldn’t have to bribe his daughter to spend time with him.”

  “You’re right about that, too.”<
br />
  She shakes her head. “You have some work to do, Kerry.”

  “I know.”

  “Let’s go to your stupid training session. But if even one of those losers says anything…”

  “Then you have my permission to do whatever you want with him; as long as you don’t ruin your school career. If that happens, there’s no way Jordan will ever give me another chance.

  When we get to the gym, there are only two kids waiting on the steps.

  “Hey! You two! What are you doing just sitting there?”

  “We’re waiting for the others.”

  “Get up, then! You don’t just sit around when you’re waiting!” I gesture at them to get off their arses, and watch as the begrudgingly get up and come towards us.

  “Let’s start with some warm-ups.”

  “Don’t we all have to warm up together?” one of them asks.

  “As soon as the others arrive, they can join in.”

  “But that means we’ll be running for longer.”

  “It means you’ll have trained harder.”

  “I don’t think it works like that, Kerry,” Skylar points out.

  I scoff. Apparently, I’m not even allowed to have fun with my own team.

  “The others can make up for the extra laps afterwards. Better?”

  The two boys mutter under their breath, disgruntled, before running off, slowly.

  “You know what you’re doing, don’t you?” Skylar asks.

  “I played for twenty years. I think I might just know what I’m doing. You should trust the coach.”

  She rolls her eyes, before letting her gaze land over my shoulder.

  “What is it?” I ask, turning.

  “You set this up, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Is that why you made me come with you today?”

  I turn nervously to face my daughter. “I swear I didn’t know he’d come. Okay, I suggested he try out for some teams, but I never thought he’d show up here.”

  “You’re a liar.”

  “I swear, Skylar, I had no idea.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she spits angrily, before storming towards the exit, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the gym. When she strides past Carter, he raises his hand in greeting; but she responds with a much less friendly gesture.