The Pretend Girlfriend(32)

"Hey, baby, it's me!"

The speaker crackled and spat. It had to almost as old as the building. She and Janice had needed the maintenance guy in to repair it at least four or five times now. The bird's nest of wiring behind the panel just had to be a fire hazard.

Still, she managed to recognize her father's voice, despite the distortions. "Oh, hey dad," she replied, hoping that the sound down there hid her confusion. Why was he here now? Shouldn't he be at work or something?

"Gonna let me up? Or should I just spend some more time with this interesting homeless fellow down here?"

She let go of the button and sighed. First Aiden's dad and his accusations, now her own father showing up at her apartment building? She honestly considered telling him she wasn't feeling well, or had a project to finish, before realizing how ridiculous that was. She wasn't like Aiden; she loved her father. Of course it was nice to have him visit!

"Come right up, dad. Remember which apartment it is?" she said.

"Yep," he replied. She held the buzzer down for a few seconds, then waited to make sure he got inside.

A minute later, he knocked on the door. She was in the bathroom, checking to make sure she looked okay. A little warn out, maybe, she thought as she looked at her reflection. But honestly, what could someone expect after a dream like that one?

"Coming!" she said, scurrying to the door and pulling it open.

Her father stood outside, hands in his pockets. He wore a pair of old jeans and a polo shirt. In the past couple years, his hair had receded pretty far, leaving him with a prodigious forehead that wrinkled whenever he smiled, or whenever someone mentioned Gwen's mother. It wrinkled then as he grinned down at her. They hugged.

"Come on in, dad," she said. They wound up in the kitchen, her dad leaning against the fridge, Gwen against the counter in front of the sink.

"Place looks good," he said.

"Yeah, it's okay. Hey, dad, not that I'm not happy you came or anything, but..."

"Why am I here?" he finished.

"Bingo."

He took one of his hands out of his pocket to rub at the broad expanse of forehead. "You're in trouble. I can't just leave my little girl when she's in trouble."

It at once annoyed her that he still called her "my little girl" despite her being pretty close to finishing her Bachelor's and endeared her that he'd actually showed up when she asked for help. She knew it was at least partly so he could rub it in her mom's face the next time they sat down with their lawyers, but it still felt nice to have someone care, to have someone offer help and not want anything in return.

"That's sweet, dad," she said.

"Yeah, I was just on my way to go rent a moving van, then I figured we could grab some lunch and then come back here and start packing..." he said.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Excuse me? Packing?"

Her dad gave her a look that said, "Uh, yeah? Why else would I be here?"

"I never asked you to help me move," she said.

"You don't need to ask, Gwenny. I'm your father; I'm here to help."

She was glad Beatrice wasn't around to hear that. Beatrice would call her Gwenny for the rest of the month, if she'd been there. No one but her parents called her that. Which was just fine with her. Gwenny sounded like a name for a little girl, or a cute puppy. Neither of which she was, clearly.

Again, she got that simultaneous feeling of annoyance and gratitude. Though her annoyance, she knew, was unwarranted. She hadn't told him everything was fine yet, after all. She couldn't help contrasting her father to Henry Manning. She didn't think old Henry would offer Aiden a hand even if he were drowning.

And that just made her feel more sympathy for Aiden, which softened her smile. "Thanks, dad. You have no idea how happy that makes me feel that you'd come down like this... without calling ahead... and offer to help. But you really didn't have to. I have everything sorted out, now."

Her dad started in about getting out quickly to make sure they could rent a truck, then stopped in mid-sentence. "What do you mean? Did you find that bit... That awful roommate of yours?"

"No," Gwen said. Then she regretted saying it.

"So how did you come up with that five grand?"

Sometimes, people have this habit of offering a possibility or two on speculation. She really wished her dad had said something like, "Did you get a lucky scratch ticket?" Anything she could just nod and smile to and say how she was set and that they could grab lunch but then he really needed to get going because she had things to do...

But her father didn't offer any possibilities. His forehead wrinkled again, and he gave her that look she knew all too well from her childhood that indicated that he knew she lied, or wasn't telling him something.