The One For Me(45)

He must, because he opens the door, peaking through the crack until I look up at him.

“You ready to go?” he asks. “Our plane leaves in an hour. We need to head out,” he says.

“Yeah, I guess,” I whisper. “If we have to.”

Dad smiles. “It’s not as bad as you think it’s going to be, I promise. Come on, let’s go.” I stand up and follow Dad downstairs. Mom is standing with my suitcase. She is smiling but I can tell it’s just for show. It looks like the smile she gives my grandma when she comes down to visit. The thought makes my stomach hurt. It won’t be the same. Will Grandpa and Grandma still come down for Christmas, even if Dad’s not here?

I fight back the tears, they’re threatening to fall. Mom reaches out for me, kisses my check and hugs me. “I love ya, baby girl. I’ll see you Wednesday, okay? You need a few days off. Go have fun on the beach.”

I nod even though it’s way too chilly to be on the beach. I can go to the beach here. Why is it they’re making it out to be so much better in Florida? I fight the urge to stomp my foot. I don’t want to go. I want to stay and wallow in my self pity in my own room. “Okay, Momma.”

She gives me another kiss, walking Dad and I out the door. I walk slowly, waiting for something to happen. For Mom to change her mind, for Jen to run down the road, for Hayden to beat on my window, kiss me and keep me in his arms forever. Nothing happens. Dad packs my suitcase into the back, and then shuts the truck. I watch my dad give my mom a hug. I doubt he means it, but the gesture is nice.

Dad opens his door and digs his keys out of his pocket. “This is going to be fun, Katy. Just wait.”

I’m waiting…



We load the plane. I don’t give Dad a chance to talk. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I plug my earphones in my ears and close my eyes. Hopefully when I open my eyes again this will all have been a terrible nightmare.

I wake up with Dad shaking my shoulders. “Katy, get up, we’re in Florida. Get up, babe,” he says, low in my ear.

I peak one eye open and see Dad leaning down in my face, his scruffy beard mostly all I can see. “Okay, I’m up, Dad. Jeez,” I say, rubbing my head. It seems like it was hit with a three ton hammer.

Dad rolls his eyes and stands up to get our carry-ons. He stands up and tugs at his white t-shirt. I shift my leg that’s tucked under me and stand up. My eye catches a woman in the aisle behind Dad, staring at him. Blankly staring at him, not trying to hide it or anything. She has long legs, auburn hair and white teeth. Not to mention a ginormous rack. She looks vaguely familiar.

“Danny?” she asks. It takes me a second to realize she is talking to my dad. His name is Danny.

He turns and gets this whitish ghost look on his face. “Beth?”

Beth? Beth the sectary at dad’s office, the one Mom caught him with. Heat spreads up my neck when I look at her.

“How are you?” she whispers, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Fine, I’m fine. I’ve moved here.”

“To Florida? Moved? For good? I knew that’s what they were saying around the office, but I wasn’t sure.” Her blue eyes flicker to mine.

I give her the best I’m a badass look I can conjure up.

“Oh, how rude. This is my daughter, Katy. Katy this is Beth.” Dad gestures toward her. I see the please don’t embarrass me look in her eyes. Too bad, Dad. You made your bed.

Beth stretches her hand out toward me. I look down at her hand and push my way through Dad and her. “I hope you’re happy, Beth. My dad and mom are no longer together because you couldn’t keep your legs close. Good for you,” I say, turn on my heel and walk off the airplane.

I know it wasn’t the right thing to do, but man do I feel a hell of a lot better. I keep walking even though I hear my dad calling my name. The airport is cramped and I shove people to get through to the doors. By the time I get to the double doors, my Dad has caught up with me, his hand wrapping around my elbow.

“Katy,” he says, snatching me toward him. I turn to look at him, his eyes are watering. He doesn’t say anything else. He pulls me behind him. He leads us back toward the conveyer belt, where he gets out baggage. I don’t say or do anything. The tears in his eyes were enough to silence me for a decade. He doesn’t make sure I’m following him when he starts toward the doorway, but I do.

He throws his hand out for a Taxi. We wait in silence until a Taxi pulls up to the sidewalk. I get in silently, watching my dad load our baggage. “7th Street Beach Front, number 11,” Dad says. He leans back and closes his eyes.

I see a tear fall down his disgruntled face. I turn the other way; I can’t make myself look at him. I’ve only seen my dad cry once. It was when my mom and I had a car crash on the way to school one morning. He came running toward our vehicle that was lying upside down. He was hysterical then, pain covered his face. Here he is sad. He is sad that our lives have come to this. I am, too.