Just a Number(93)
Footsteps approach behind the door, and I take a deep breath, steeling myself for my father’s reaction, but when the door opens, I release the breath, a cloud forming on the cool winter air.
“Amelia! What a surprise,” Carla greets with forced enthusiasm as she looks over her shoulder and toward the living room. Even though I’m outside and the door is blocking my view, I know she’s looking at my father.
“Hey, Carla.” My voice is quiet and cracks when I say her name, so I clear my throat. “Is he here?”
Carla steps out of the way, allowing me to come inside, my gaze travelling until I find my dad in his recliner. He regards me with an expression that confuses me; if I look deep enough, I see his willingness to listen, but it’s also not hard to see how angry he still is. My heart breaks when he remains silent, not even mustering up an annoyed “hello.”
“Hey, Dad,” I say, offering him a very hesitant smile as I close the door and take a step toward the living room.
Carla reaches out and gives my hand a gentle squeeze before I get too far past her. “I’ll give the two of you some privacy,” she says, picking up her purse and jacket and heading outside.
My anxiety spikes with every step I take, and I’m suddenly not sure what I wanted to say. Part of me wants to apologize for keeping something this huge from him for as long as we did, but another part of me is still so angry with him for not listening to our side of things, and I want to demand an apology from him. As I sit down on the end of the couch closest to his chair, the first emotion takes over, forcing my eyes to the floor as I bite my lower lip nervously.
I glance up briefly, noticing his eyes aren’t on me but on the keys I’ve just set on the coffee table. He inhales a big breath as realization hits him. Based on the wide-eyed look on his face, I figure he’s assuming I haven’t come alone, so I decide to assuage his fears. “He’s still in the city,” I quietly assure him. “He loaned me the car so I could come talk to you.”
He exhales a sigh of relief, probably feeling like he’s just dodged a bullet. We sit in uncomfortable silence for several minutes, and I look around the room uncomfortably. My hands are clasped tightly in my lap, and I periodically crack my knuckles—something I only ever do when extremely agitated. When I look over at my dad, I notice the pained look on his face. I can tell he wants to comfort me in some way, but his hurt and anger toward me keeps him from following through.
“We didn’t plan for this to happen,” I begin, my voice cracking again before I clear my throat. “But it has.” I want him to say something—anything—but he remains silent, and I continue. “You, yourself, told Owen he should try to forget Gretchen with someone younger—” He shoots a warning glare my way that tells me that, while I might be right, this is not the way I should be presenting my case.
“Sorry,” I quickly tack on. “I’m honestly not trying to piss you off more than you already are, but you’ve set these ridiculous double-standards that I can’t even begin to understand.
“You found out that Owen was dating someone half his age, and he got congratulated and slapped on the back… Jesus, Daddy, you asked him for details.”
He looks horrified at being reminded about the night he showed up at Owen’s place unannounced when I’d been over as he closes his eyes and groans.
“And yet, when you found out I was seeing someone older, you accused me of making poor choices because there was no way a man that old wasn’t taking advantage of me.” Exhausted at being the only contributor to the conversation, I sigh, shaking my head. “I know you were just being a dad and looking out for me—the way you always have—and I appreciate that you’re so protective over me, but…I’m not a child anymore, Dad. I’m twenty-one years old, and I’m fully capable of making my own decisions and dealing with whatever consequences they may have.”
Not above begging for a response at this point, I drop to my knees on the floor beside my father when he continues to avoid eye contact with me. “He loves me,” I whisper, trying to coax his eyes to mine. Stubborn as always, he refuses.
“And I love him. Like I said, we didn’t plan this. It was only supposed to be a one-time thing.” When his face screws up in a way any father’s face would at hearing his daughter and best friend only planned to engage in a one-night-stand, I shrug. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s true. Owen tried to tell me it was a bad idea and that we shouldn’t…” This captures his attention. “But I persisted. He’s certain you’ll never forgive him, but you should know that none of this was his fault. Not solely. You can’t throw away three decades of friendship over this so easily, can you?”