20. At Least Once, Before I Die
AT LEAST ONCE, BEFORE I DIE
TARA
On Sunday morning, I head back to the hospital. This time, I go to my father’s room, not wanting to put him through the exhausting exercise of going back down to the cafe.
Knocking on the open door, I’m surprised to see him sitting in the reclining chair by the window, rather than his bed.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, plastering on a fake smile while I take in his appearance.
He looks like he’s lost more weight since I was here two weeks ago, but his smile is wide when he looks over.
“Hi, baby girl. I’m glad you came back.” His voice is shaky.
I swallow the lump in my throat, determined to put on a brave face.
“I brought you a danish from the bakery you used to like,” I say, placing the brown paper bag on the table near his chair.
“Thank you. I still love that place,” he replies, leaning forward to pick it up. He brings the open bag to his nose and inhales deeply. “Yum, that smells amazing.”
I take a seat in the visitor’s chair, holding my bag in my lap .
After an awkward few moments of silence, Dad speaks again. “So, how have you been?”
“Good. I started taking dance classes.”
We chat a little about my week, and I tell him about the trip to Singapore. But it’s all surface level. After twelve years, this man is a stranger to me. It makes me feel guilty, but I can’t just let go of all the hurt he caused our family.
“Have you given any more thought into meeting your sisters?” he asks finally once we’ve exhausted the small talk.
I hesitate. It’s been on my mind, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to agree to meet them yet.
“I still need more time,” I reply after a moment.
He sighs. “I’d just like to see all my children together, at least once, before I die.”
Jesus, talk about a guilt trip.
“Well, while I appreciate that you aren’t well, you can’t just expect me to get over twelve years of hurt in the space of two weeks,” I reply, fighting to keep control of my emotions.
“What about your sister? What does Annelisa say?”
I swallow hard. “Not much.”
I don’t want to repeat what Annelisa said when we discussed it via text.
She’s made it clear that she doesn’t have any interest in reopening the lines of communication with Dad, and was even less receptive to the idea of meeting Jordan and Piper.
Well, she didn’t call them by name, instead referring to them as the children of the ‘she-devil’.
I can hold a grudge, but Annelisa could win awards with her ability to hold on to stuff. She wasn’t like that when we were kids, but once Dad abandoned us, it did something to her, breaking a part of her that she’s never been able to mend within herself.
Dad looks sad, but nods, and I let out a breath, relieved he doesn’t seem like he’s going to push it any further.
That is, until I hear the sound of children’s voices in the hallway. His eyes flick towards the door, and I know, without a doubt, that I’m about to come face to face with the sisters that, until two weeks ago, I’d been happy to pretend didn’t exist.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter, getting to my feet and wrenching the strap of my bag over my shoulder.
“Tara, wait.” He looks like he’s going to try to stand up, and I wave my hand.
“No. You had no right to spring this on me. I’ll… I’m leaving. Enjoy your danish.” I turn towards the door just as Jo walks in, halting at the door and staring at me.
Looks like I wasn’t the only one who didn’t get the memo.
Two young girls follow behind her, each with the same deep red hair as Annelisa and I, and I feel something inside of me stretch tight.
If I don’t get out of here now, there’s every chance I’m going to fall apart again.
Without saying a word, I brush past them, trying not to notice the look of confusion on the younger girl’s face, while her older sister seems to have worked out who I am and stares at me with wide eyes.
I move quickly down the hall, blinking rapidly while trying to keep my composure.
“Tara, wait.” I consider running when I hear Jo call after me, but I stop walking, turning slowly to face the woman who my father threw his family away for.
I haven’t seen her since I was fourteen. I rarely went to Dad’s work, so never had a lot to do with his assistant, who was only in her mid-twenties at the time. She’s still pretty, with long brown wavy hair and a youthful glow to her skin. But her eyes give away her exhaustion.
I wrap my arms around myself and eye her warily.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be here. He shouldn’t have done that,” Jo says, pushing her hair back behind her ear.
“No, he shouldn’t have,” I reply, not prepared to give her an inch of sympathy .
She’s quiet for a moment. “You could stay? I can take the girls down to the cafe for a bit.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. The girls should spend time with him. They still need a father.” I turn to walk away, but she places a hand on my arm.
“So do you, Tara.”
I face her again, anger rising inside me.
“No. At fifteen, I needed a father. And he knocked you up and abandoned us. I’m all grown up now, but those girls don’t deserve to feel the same way I did, so it’s best I keep my distance.
Because it’s going to be a long time before I can forgive him for that. ”
I don’t give her a chance to respond, unable to handle anymore. This time when I leave, she doesn’t stop me.
By the time I get home, all traces of the make up I’d applied are long gone. I’d cried the entire way home, and now I feel so emotionally exhausted, all I want to do is curl up on the couch and cuddle my cat.
So, of course, Aiden steps into the elevator when I am on my way up to the apartment.
He pauses at the door, the smile on his face shifting as he runs his gaze over my face. “Are you okay?”
“Nope,” I reply.
He hesitates before stepping inside to allow the doors to close behind him. “I take it you don’t want to talk about it?”
I shake my head, feeling the small hold I have on my composure cracking.
He’s quiet for a few seconds, hitting the button for his floor. He looks over at me again, flexing his hand at his side.
“Can I… can I give you a hug? You kind of look like you need it.”
I don’t answer at first, still trying to keep myself together.
But when I nod, he steps forward and wraps his arms around me.
The tenderness of his touch is all it takes for the dam to burst, and I begin crying again, burying my face in his chest. His arms tighten around me, and he rubs a soothing hand up and down my back while I sob quietly.
I don’t even notice when he shuffles me out of the elevator and guides me towards his apartment. When he digs around in his pocket for his key, I go to step back, but he shakes his head.
“Come in. You don’t have to talk about it, but at least let me make you a cup of tea.”
“How very English of you,” I reply, hiccuping slightly while I rub my face.
“Sh, don’t tell David,” he replies with a smile, and I laugh, despite how shit I’m feeling.
I allow him to lead me inside, taking me to his couch before heading into the kitchen.
I look around the space, noting how empty the apartment is.
I know he just moved in, but there is nothing to give it a homely feel.
Besides the two seater couch, there’s a small TV on a stand in the lounge area.
There doesn’t seem to be a table, just a single stool in front of the bench.
The only thing that gives any warmth to the space is a single photo frame that sits on a shelf above the TV.
For the first time since I met him, it strikes me how lonely it must be for him. New city and starting out on your own must be incredibly difficult. Guilt takes over the grief that I’ve been feeling, thinking of how I’ve been pretty awful to him at work while he’s been trying to find his feet.
“Sorry, I don’t keep milk around, so I hope you’re okay with black?” he asks, a lopsided smile on his face.
“Black’s fine,” I reply, getting to my feet.
I move closer to the photo. It’s Aiden when he was younger, maybe in his late teens or early twenties. An older woman has her arm around him and they are standing in front of Tower Bridge in London. They are both laughing, and he looks happier than I’ve ever seen him look now .
“Is this your Mum?” I ask, although it’s obvious.
She has his same smiling blue eyes and reddish-brown hair. A dusting of freckles across her nose gives her a youthful appearance, but it’s the way she’s looking at her son in the picture that makes my throat tighten. It’s obvious just how much she loves him.
Aiden appears at my side, handing me a mug.
“Yeah, that’s Mum.” He picks up the photo and traces his finger over her face.
I feel a tightening in my chest. There’s something about the way he’s looking at the photo that tells me it’s painful for him to talk about her.
“How old were you in that photo?” I ask, taking a sip of the tea before realising it’s boiling hot and almost scalding my lips.
“Eighteen. I’d just started university.”
“I didn’t realise you’d gone to uni?”
He shrugs, putting the photo back on the shelf. “I didn’t finish.”
I cock my head to the side. “Why didn’t you finish? If you don’t mind me asking, that is?”
“It’s fine. I only lasted one semester. Then Mum had a stroke.”
Without thinking, I place a hand on his arm. “Oh Aiden, I’m so sorry. Is she okay now?”
He shakes his head, a sad smile on his face. “No. I became her carer, but she never really got better. Couldn’t speak and had very little control over her limbs. She passed away six months ago.”
An overwhelming feeling of sadness hits me, and I can feel my eyes welling up again. “I’m so sorry, Aiden.”
I blink, trying to stop the tears, but it just makes my eyes sting more.
He hands me a tissue from beside the TV.
“It’s okay. She is finally no longer in pain.
It was a really hard ten years, watching her go from this woman so full of life to a shell of herself, angry because she couldn’t control what was happening to her.
While I was sad when she passed, there was also a sense of relief that she wasn’t suffering anymore. ”
I shake my head. “It’s not just that I’m sorry for. I’m sorry about how I’ve acted since we’ve met. You’ve been going through all this, and I’ve been a complete bitch.”
He laughs a little. “It’s okay. You didn’t know, and honestly, you’ve not been that bad.”
My answering laugh is hollow, even to my own ears. “I’ve been horrible, and we both know it.”
“How about we just agree to put it all behind us, and start over?” he asks, leaning his shoulder against the wall while watching me take another sip of the tea.
“I can do that.”
“Good. Is the tea helping?”
“Is it meant to do something other than taste like tea?” I ask.
“It’s meant to fix everything. That is the English way, after all.” He grins, and my stomach does a weird little flip.
He really does have a gorgeous smile..
“Ah, right. Well, I guess it made me think about something else, but I think that was more you than the tea.”
“I’ll take it. Job done.”
I place my hand over his and squeeze gently. “Thank you, Aiden.”
He looks down at my hand before meeting my gaze. “You’re welcome, Tara.”
Every time he says my name, it sounds more and more seductive.
I’m just going to ignore the butterflies that seem to have taken flight in my stomach and drink my tea now.