Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
L ily
The house is quiet when I wake alone. I tiptoe to the bathroom to get ready, needing more time and space to go over what happened last night. After we had sex in his office, we came back here, had more sex in his bed.
On his couch.
In his sex room.
After a hot shower, I fell into bed, passed out cold. Never having had sex like that before, I didn’t realize it could be a full body workout.
I’m sore.
In all kinds of places.
I can’t wipe the dreamy grin from my face as I apply makeup. Fix my hair. Dress in jeans and a comfy top. He’s told me to go casual as it’s only a half-day and then we’re off for our date.
I slip on sneakers, and grab my oversized Prada bag that I’ve stuffed with any and all things I may or may not need on this secret date; sunglasses, snacks, lip gloss, wet wipes, change of panties…
Back at the office, I enjoy the quiet morning. I’m the first one in. I set the coffee to brew, tidying the spoons and creamers while I wait.
He’s not in yet. I’m glad. My face would burn to red if he was here as I take another deep breath, remember exactly what happened on that desk yesterday afternoon. The sex that kicked off the most epic, ten-hour-long sexcapade of my life.
Placing his nine o’clock coffee on his desk, I scurry back to my own.
I love my desk.
It’s my own little world. When I’m sitting in that chair, the massive semicircle desk surrounding me, I’m in charge. I slipped right into the work; even professional Claudia was impressed with how quickly I picked up my tasks. I switch on my computer, ready to work on the new letterhead I’m creating for our paperwork to go out on.
“Hello, Tina.” I smile at my companion.
Pink and green leaves greet me each morning, peeking over the top of the matching blush pink pot. A Tradescantia Nanouk purchased on my second day of work from a little gift shop I was passing by. I can’t pronounce the official name, so I’ve named her Tina. She’s watered once a week, as recommended on the tag she came with.
I’m just settling into some filing when Rockwell comes bursting from the hallway. He looms over my desk, his gaze resting on me. “I have to tell you something. Sit down.”
“Um… I am sitting down.” I glance down at the armrests of the office chair that cradle me.
“It’s important. I was going to wait, but it feels wrong. I need to tell you now.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t look well. “Should you sit down?”
Standing, I guide him over to the lobby. We sit down side by side in the plush leather chairs. What can he have to tell me? “Is this an update on the car?”
He nods. “Yes.”
“Oh, good. Right?” I stare at him, willing him to share what information he has.
“The car doesn’t belong to your ex. We’re still keeping an eye on that situation, though.” He looks away, fiddling with the hem of his suit jacket.
Was I just paranoid? Thinking that sedan was parked outside my apartment window when it wasn’t meant for me?
“Who does the car belong to?” I press.
He drags his eyes up to meet mine. “Your father.” He holds my gaze, letting his words sink in.
Disbelief fills me. I haven’t even thought of my parents in years. Not really. “What?”
“He’s left your mom. He says…” Rockwell corrects himself, “He claims your mother and him always fought over the way they left you. He says it never sat right with him. After all these years it sounds like he’s kept tabs on you. He knew when you graduated from college, where you lived. Found out you worked here. He’s rented a car and was staying in the city until he felt like the right time had come to tell you.”
“What?” I say again.
“There’s more.” He takes my cold, shaking hands in his warm, protective ones. “He’s been convicted of crimes in the UK.”
“What?” Thankfully he doesn’t mention my one-word-only vocabulary as I parrot in shock. Trying to sound as if I’m somewhat with it in this moment, I piece together a complete sentence. “What was he convicted of?”
“He faced some drug charges. He was in a low security prison in Wales. He managed to escape, coming here under a false identity, papers he’d paid to have made.” He squeezes my hand. “I don’t know if what he says is true, but he’s telling us that he did it all, the new identity, the escape, because he wanted to come apologize to you in person before he’s put behind bars. He said he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance.”
“Okay. Alright,” I murmur. I stare straight ahead. Today he’s wearing the pinstripe button-down shirt with the blue tie and blazer that go with his eyes. I take a deep breath, trying to absorb all this information.
Finally, I look up at him with trusting eyes. “What do I do?” I ask.
“He wants to see you,” he says.
“I first saw the car weeks ago.” I shake my head, so many questions swirling in my mind. “How on earth has he managed to avoid the law for all this time in New York?”
“I’m not sure. But we didn’t turn him over to the authorities. Not yet. We were waiting to see if you wanted to meet with him first.”
“Where is he now?” I ask.
“Seeing as he’s your father and you’re a friendly, we’ve kept him at one of our safehouses until you decide what to do.”
It’s my responsibility to figure out what trajectory my father’s life will take? Fear prickles at the back of my neck. I don’t want any of this to be my responsibility.
“Me?” I shake my head in disbelief. “I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s your decision. There’s no right or wrong answer. You get to decide.” He reaches out, smoothing my hair back from my face. “But if you want to see him, I’ll be right there by your side.”
See my father? After all these years? I had no idea he’d been keeping tabs on me. How could I?
I’m unsure how that makes me feel. But knowing he’s here now, that he’s been here… I can’t make him wait.
“I want to see him,” I say. “But I have to go by myself.”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
Rockwell has done so much for me already, too much even. I can’t add family drama to that long list, everything I owe him.
I nod. “I’m sure.”
“Take the rest of the morning off. If you can meet me at the house at noon for the date, that’s great. But if you need more time with your dad, I understand.”
His words fall on cotton-filled ears. I can’t believe I’m going to see my dad again.
After fifteen minutes of reassuring him I need to go alone, he relents. A security guard comes to collect me in a black Escalade. I wring my hands as I ride down the city streets toward Brooklyn. Apparently, they’ve been keeping him at a house on the peninsula by Brighton Beach.
He’s going to meet me at a currently undisclosed-to-me location.
I look up, confused, as we pull into the amusement park of Coney Island. “I’ve never been here before,” I say more to myself than the driver or security guard planted in the front seats of the SUV.
The boardwalk boasts rides, a Ferris wheel, stalls selling hotdogs and ice cream. The sun shines down on me, the sound of the waves lapping the shore as I wait on a bench, flanked by undercover guards.
This looks like a place a father would take his young daughter for a day of sunshine and fun. A vague memory comes to me, a carnival coming to our small town, an argument between my father and mother, ending with my father and me leaving the house.
Me riding the Ferris wheel, my dad next to me as we rose to the top. I could see our little house from up there.
Maybe he wanted to be a good father, but my mom stopped him. But a good father wouldn’t let anyone stand in his way of being a parent to his child, would they?
The spring breeze is a bit chilly here by the shore. I wish I had the warmth and comfort of my Hermes blanket. I wrap my arms around myself and wait.
Finally, I see him. Accompanied by two men who look like Bachmans, he walks down the boardwalk, a slow smile spreading on his face as he sees me. I stand, in awe that he’s really here.
He looks older, more worn than I remember, but it is him.
“Dad?”
“Lily.”
He approaches me, his arms raised in an awkward way, unsure if he’s supposed to hug me or not. Opting for less contact, I sit down on the bench, patting the open space beside me.
“Have a seat.” I think of Claudia’s love for true crime, realizing I’m not only sitting next to my father, but a wanted criminal.
Thankful for the invitation, he sits next to me. A dull tension settles between us, the sound of seagulls and our silence. I wait for him to speak first. To explain himself.
To take away my pain.
Finally, he says, “So, long time no see.”
“Yes,” I say. “Something like that. Why are you here, Dad?”
He turns his knees toward me, lowering his voice to keep the matter private from the guards. “I want to tell you that I’m sorry. Your mom and I never should have taken off like that. Going to UK, leaving you alone in the US, never contacting you…” He draws in a long breath. “I can’t imagine what that was like for you.”
“Lonely,” I say, the pain coming through my smile.
“I’m sure.” He reaches out like he wants to touch me.
I draw back. “And the jailbreak? How did you manage that?”
“It was low security. I got put on a work detail, then waited for my chance.” His eyes, same as mine, stare at me. “It was that important to me. To get to you. To tell you in person how very sorry I am.”
“Thank you, I appreciate the sentiment.” I eye him, still not sure of his story. “But after all these years, what made you want to apologize?”
“I left your mother. I think your friend told you that. He’s been great by the way—great guy. Really looked out for me to let me talk to you. Kept me for ages first, making sure I was who I said I am but finally?—”
“Dad. Why?”
He looks down at the tops of his worn brown leather boots. “I left your mom. A long time ago. Five years. Right about the time we got to Europe. I knew it was a mistake then, to leave you, but I couldn’t show my face back home. So, I went to Wales on my own.” He gives a happy smile, one I’ve never seen on his face as long as I’ve known him.
My stomach sinks with disgust before he can say the words, knowing what he’s going to say before he says it.
He looks out over the sea. “I met someone. When I first got to Wales. Her name is Elly and she’s the best thing that ever happened to me. We had a little girl.”
Sickness, coldness, nausea, and dread pool in my stomach. “You did.”
“Yeah. We did. We called her Megan. She looked a bit like you.” He adds, “The moment she was born, I knew I needed to apologize to you.”
The words slip from me with shock and disbelief. “I always wanted a sister.”
“I remember you did,” he says. Like he knows me. Like he ever knew anything about me, so caught up in the volatility of his and my mother’s tumultuous relationship.
Is this some sick joke? I had a family, a half-sister, all the way across the world? It sinks in that he keeps saying, ‘had.’
“What happened to her?” I ask.
“When I was charged for drugs, the first time,” he adds sheepishly, “Elly left with Megan. I didn’t have money for a lawyer or a leg to stand on in court to get custody since I already had the drug charges. I knew fighting for her was impossible. I try to call, to write, but I haven’t heard from them in years.”
“That sounds hard,” I say, my voice tight.
“Sorry. I—ah. I’m not sure what to say other than what I came to say, which is sorry. I’m sorry for being a shitty father. And I’m sorry for your crappy mother. And I’m sorry we ran off when you turned eighteen. And I’m sorry I never got in touch after that.”
The apology should help; it should make me feel better.
Instead, I just feel… empty.
“Are you going to go back?” I ask.
“Yes. I’m going to turn myself in. I just wanted to see you first.”
“I appreciate the gesture, Dad.” I give another tight smile, willing myself to not cry. “I wish you the best of luck. Thank you for coming.”
I stand up, ready to put this behind me. To close this chapter of my life. To go back to my magical life of protection and comfort and a man who cares for me.
I’m ready to say goodbye.
I’m reluctant to give him a hug, but I know it’s the last thing I’ll ever give him.
We embrace and for a moment, I remember the feeling of hugging him.
Then, it’s over.
I watch as the men lead him away. This time, when he leaves me, he at least gives a backwards glance.