Chapter 15 #3
“I’m not sure what you want me to say other than I’m sorry,” I answered.
“I didn’t mean to lose my phone. It was an accident.
If I hadn’t lost it, you’d have known where I was.
I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.
” Crossing my fingers underneath the table, I casually glanced at the clock on the stove, yawned, and prayed I could wiggle my way out of this.
“Is it okay if I go to bed now? I have to get up in five hours.”
Dad’s nostrils flared. I got the sense that if I moved a single inch, he’d release a guttural roar. “No, Indie. Apart from being nowhere close to finished with this matter, we still need to talk about how you treated your sister. Your behavior was unacceptable.”
“I’m sorry, but how exactly?” Because heaven forbid I tell the goddamn princess the truth about how I felt. We didn’t want to hurt her precious feelings.
“You blamed Violet for my and your mother’s divorce,” Dad said, a combination of anger and disbelief coating his tone, as if the mere thought was implausible. As if he hadn’t spent every second of the past five years devoted to her success at the expense of the other members of this family.
I lifted my shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “And?”
He shook his head, his mouth hanging slack. “How could you accuse her of something like that? Do you know how much that hurt her? She cried all evening.”
“Seriously? For once, can we not pretend like her career didn’t take over all our lives?”
“That’s not true—”
“You’re shitting me, right?” I pounded my fist on the table, causing the coffee mugs to rattle together. “You of all people should know better. Your life revolves around her!”
Fire flashed in Dad’s eyes. “Indie, my job as Violet’s manager may have thrown my and your mother’s relationship issues into relief, but it was never the cause of our marital problems.”
“Then what was?” I exclaimed, fighting to control the waver in my voice. “Because I sure as hell don’t understand.”
“Sweetie,” he replied, his tone suddenly gentle, like he was trying to cushion a blow, “sometimes things don’t work out even if we really want them to. After many conversations, your mother and I accepted that we’re two very different people who want opposing things out of life.”
“No, that’s not going to cut it.” Twice now, Violet had insinuated that there was more to the story, so it was time for Dad to enlighten me. “I don’t want to hear the nice, let’s-all-hold-hands-and-sing-Kumbaya version of what happened. I want the truth.”
Dad blinked at me, expressionless. After what felt like an eon, he sighed, removed his glasses, and dragged a hand down his face. “It was my fault,” he said, more to himself than to me, like this was the first time in years he’d allowed himself to remember.
“Did you cheat on her?” I asked point-blank.
“What?” Dad jerked back like someone had lassoed him around the shoulders. “Of course not! I would never do something like that to her.”
His shock—explosive but clearly grief-stricken—was believable. “Okay, then what?”
“I—” Dad shifted in his seat and dropped his gaze.
A chill slid down my spine. What could possibly be worse than him cheating on her?
Three unnerving seconds later, he raised a pleading gaze to mine. “Please understand that if I’d known what I was asking of her, I never would have—”
“Just get to the point,” I exclaimed, losing patience.
Dad took a deep breath. Held it in. Exhaled. “I asked your mother to give up her dream of becoming a concert violinist.”
What? All these years, I’d never understood why Mom stopped performing when she’d been so close to making it. Everything she’d ever wanted was right there; all she had to do was reach out and take it. Instead, she walked away.
But maybe that decision wasn’t as much of a choice as I thought.
“Explain,” I demanded.
“Did your mother ever tell you the only reason we decided to get married was because she got pregnant with Violet?”
“Yeah,” I said, my shoulders stiffening, “I knew that.” Well…sort of. When Mom told the story, she always made Dad’s proposal sound like a grand, romantic gesture.
“The problem was neither of us were making enough money to cover the cost of childcare,” he continued.
“This was before your grandma moved to the LA area, so we didn’t have anyone to help us.
Our only option was for someone to stay home.
At the time, I’d just been hired as a teller at the bank.
Didn’t earn much, but my paycheck was steady in comparison to your mother’s. ”
To a stranger, this logic would seem reasonable. Responsible even. But anyone who knew my mom would understand how utterly senseless it was. Josephine and performing went hand in hand, like thunder and lightning or sand and shore.
Bile burned at the back of my throat. “How could you?”
“It was so long ago, sweetie. We were young and still getting to know each other. If I’d known back then what performing meant to her, I never would have asked her to quit.”
My dad’s confession was a lot to take in.
Looking away from him, I clutched my pendant and stared out the window.
The moon was high, illuminating the dark waters of the Pacific, and as I mulled over this new information, I watched waves break against the beach.
While I was willing to admit that my dad’s story was a contributing factor in my parents’ split, I had a hard time believing it was the sole reason.
“Indie?” Dad prompted.
I turned back to him and crossed my arms. “You guys seemed fine before Violet—”
“I know you think your sister’s career is to blame for all this,” he said, speaking over me, “and that me becoming her manager somehow ruined my relationship with your mom, but our marriage was on the rocks long before that. And by the time I realized how unhappy she was? It was too late.” I frowned, still not convinced, so Dad added, “None of this means we don’t love you, Indie.
We’ll always be thankful that you and Violet came into our lives. ”
For a moment, I let his words wash over me, but they didn’t soothe my anger.
They fed it.
Dad could say he loved me all he wanted, but when was the last time he’d actually acted like a father?
“You know what, Dad?” I asked. Rage swept through me like fire chasing gasoline. “That’s pretty damn hard to believe coming from you.”
“Indie,” Dad exclaimed, recoiling from me as if my words were a physical blow. “How can you say something like that?”
“You say Violet’s career hasn’t affected our lives, but when was the last time you spent any time with me?
Or had a conversation with me that wasn’t interrupted by a business call?
You’re always busy working on stuff for her, but I’m your daughter too.
And when I try to talk to you about it, you brush me off.
I feel like my existence is just a huge inconvenience to you. ”
His throat bobbed as he stared at me. “Oh, sweetie, I hate that you feel that way. I wish I’d known.”
“But you did know, Dad. We’ve had this conversation before.
In October when you bailed on the horror marathon at Cinépolis, when we arrived at the Immortal Nights premiere,” I said, counting the examples off on my fingers.
“But trying to get you to listen to me is like talking to an empty room—it doesn’t matter if I’m shouting at the top of my lungs, because there’s no one there to hear me.
” I paused for a moment, then added, “Subconscious or not, you’ve chosen work over me every single time. ”
Dad sank his fingers into his graying hair. He looked gutted. “Indie,” he said, his voice cracking. “I never meant—” He broke off, too overcome to finish his sentence.
“Do you know how lonely it’s been for me? Mom’s gone, every second of Violet’s life is scheduled, and I’m lucky if you bother to have a five-minute conversation with me. All I want is to spend time with you. Is that really too much to ask?”
When Dad finally looked up at me, there was a watery glisten to his eyes. “I’m so unbelievably sorry, Indie. You and your sister have always been so independent. I never realized you needed anything from me.”
“I do need you,” I replied, my own eyes watering. “And not just when I’ve been missing for nine hours.”
Reaching across the table, Dad took my hand in his. “Kiddo, I promise I’ll cut back on my hours and make an effort to be more present. Things are going to change around here for the better, okay?” He gave my fingers a sight squeeze. “I never want you to feel like this again.”
“Okay,” I said squeezing back. I wasn’t sure I believed him, but maybe this time would be different. There was, after all, a first time for everything.
“Now, can you do something for me in return?” he asked.
I nodded. “I suppose that’s fair.”
“Never disappear like that again.”
“Done.” Scaring him had never been my intention in the first place.
“Also, can you please make up with your sister? It’s not fair to blame her for my mistake, and I’d hate to think that I’m the reason you two aren’t close like you used to be.”
This time, I shook my head. “Sorry, but I don’t think I can do that.” Perhaps I was wrong for blaming the divorce on her, but there were so many other issues that contributed to our lack of relationship. The bad blood between us ran too deep.
“Fine.” He sighed. “At the very least, you need to apologize to her for what you said this afternoon. Also, I hope you realize that despite this conversation, you’re not off the hook. You are very, very grounded.”
I guessed that meant I’d have lots of time to figure out what I was going to do with my life now that I wouldn’t be attending Juilliard. I knew I should tell him, but after everything that had happened today, I couldn’t do it. I was too emotionally drained.
“Yeah, I figured.” I ran my fingers through my bangs. They were tangled and greasy and in desperate need of a brush. “How long?”
“We’ll discuss that later. Why don’t you go to bed? You look like you’re going to pass out right here at the table.”