Chapter Twenty-Four Sisters Are Better than Misters #2
I wish I had before too. I let my bitterness about my parents’ divorce and Noureen’s judgments and even our childhood rivalry get in the way of actually seeing who my stepsister is right now.
And who she is now is friendly, cheerful, and pleasant to me.
Even during all those brunches, Sarina didn’t treat me like her mother does.
Neither of us gave the other a fair chance.
Maybe it was her mother comparing us, or maybe it was because we’re very different people who never looked beyond those differences.
But Miles… he saw me. Way back when we went to High Park, he was already defending me for the very same things he judged me for only a few weeks before.
But he also kept something from me. Something big. I can’t ignore that.
I shake my head. “Even if he wasn’t scheming with Dad, he should have told me. He knew how I felt about condo developers and my street. And he knew how I feel about Dad. I wouldn’t have stopped him from working there, but we promised to be honest with each other.”
Sarina nods. “You know your limits. It’s still sad, though. Miles was… is so into you. You two could have had something special.”
I exhale. I thought so too.
Sarina and I stay and chat a little longer.
It’s… weird. Honestly, it’s a little awkward.
After having a non-relationship for so long, it’s going to take a while for things to be chill between us.
But I can tell she’s trying, and so am I.
She’s dating Cara now, and I really don’t want to lose my friend.
And also? It’s kind of cool to see another side of Sarina.
She’s so different when she’s not with her mother.
She’s still kind of quiet, but she’s also really sweet, and kind of…
optimistic. She only has nice things to say about anyone.
We could have— should have—done this years ago.
I could have had a sister, something I always wanted.
I decide that now, no matter what happens between her and Cara, and me and Miles, I’m determined to get closer to my stepsister.
When I leave the café, one thing that Sarina said stands out in my mind.
She said my father… her stepfather… is a pretty understanding guy.
Honestly? That comment made me feel like crap.
I understand that people can be different with different people, but why does Sarina get the understanding, supportive stepfather, while I get the judgy, distant father?
He’s my father, and he’s the one behind all of this.
He encouraged Mom to sell her building and asked me to move in with him so Mom would agree.
He’s friends with the condo developer and referred Miles, my boyfriend, for that job.
I get why Mom had to sell her building. I don’t like it, but I understand it.
And I knew Miles needed an internship badly.
But why didn’t my father tell me? Or at least talk to me?
On a whim, instead of going home, I head to the subway station and take the subway and then a bus all the way to Vaughan to my father’s office. It’s time I had a talk… alone … with my father.
I have only actually been to my father’s commercial real estate office once—not long after he and his staff moved into this space.
The office was boring—stark, white, and without personality.
As I walk into the second-floor office now, I’m not surprised that it looks the same.
Well, maybe there’s new artwork—all done in pale pastels—but for the most part, it’s white walls and white furniture.
NAHEED MERALI REAL ESTATE brOKERAGE is printed in black letters on the white wall behind the reception desk.
The receptionist is young—maybe in her early twenties—and has long highlighted hair and wears a formfitting blouse.
She frowns when she sees me, clearly thinking that I’m not supposed to be there.
Maybe I should have dressed up for this, but I didn’t know I’d be coming here today. I’m wearing pink and black plaid pants and a pink cropped T-shirt that says CLASS OF ’82 on it in pink glittery script.
“May I help you?” the receptionist asks suspiciously.
“I need to see Naheed Merali,” I say.
“Mr. Merali is very busy. Do you have an appointment?”
“No. But… he’s my father. Can you see if he has a few minutes?”
She looks shocked when I say he’s my father. Which… why? I know Sarina sometimes works here. But Dad has mentioned his other daughter to his staff, right?
The receptionist still doesn’t say anything. “Just ask him if he as a few minutes for Sana,” I say.
She motions for me to sit on one of the white chairs in the lobby. Then I see her pick up a phone. Hopefully to call Dad and not security to have me kicked out.
After a few minutes Dad comes rushing into the lobby from one of the offices. “Sana, what’s wrong? Has something happened?”
I stand. He’s wearing dress pants and a blue dress shirt.
No tie. I’m not sure if I expected him to wear a suit and tie to work, because that would be ridiculous in this day and age.
But still. It feels weird to see my father at work.
To see him without Noureen is strange too.
“I… I needed to talk to you. Do you have a second?”
He looks at the receptionist. “Farzana, James Andrews is coming in at one thirty. Can you ask him to wait until I’m done with my daughter? We won’t be long.”
She nods but looks surprised that Dad is willing to speak to me. I wonder if she thought I was lying when I said he was my father. I want to give this woman an I told you so look, but instead follow my father down the hallway to his office.
Dad’s office is sleek and white and looks like the reception area. He indicates a leather chair across from his desk, and I sit. He sits at a tall office chair across from me.
Despite my issues with the man, I can’t deny that Dad is quite handsome for a fifty-year-old. He’s slim and fit because he still plays on a recreational soccer team and runs daily. And he clearly cares about his looks—his skin is smooth, and his hair is always shiny with no grays showing.
He’s like the polar opposite of my mother, who doesn’t care at all about the errant gray hairs popping up in her curls. Honestly, I have no idea why the two of them ever thought it was a good idea to marry each other.
“Okay, Sana? What do you need from me?”
“Why do you assume I need something from you? Maybe I just wanted to see my father.” I mean, I did need something from him, but it’s rubbing me the wrong way that he thinks that’s the only reason I would come see him. Even if it’s true.
“Well, I would love to see you more often. But you’ve never come here before. Do you need money?”
“Of course not. I have a job, remember?”
He sighs. “I have an important meeting soon. Maybe we can talk on the weekend. We can move up our brunch date. Why don’t you call Noureen—”
“Dad, why do we only see each other with Noureen? Why don’t you ever want to do something with just us?”
He stares at me.
This is a disaster. I’m feeling raw from today and yesterday’s revelations, and now my father’s questions are putting me on edge. I take a breath. “There is a reason I’m here. I heard that you’re the one who convinced Mom to sell her building.”
His eyes widen. Clearly he wasn’t aware that I knew. “I’m only the broker who brought the opportunity to her. Selling was her decision.”
“How much money are you making off the deal?” He doesn’t answer that question. “Did you ask me to move in with you so Mom would sell? She said she told you before that she wouldn’t sell while I still lived with her.”
Dad’s brows knit together. “No, Sana. Of course not. Noureen and I want to see more of you. To help you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t believe you. I think you were trying to manipulate Mom’s decision. What I don’t get is, why did you go after Love Street ? Where I live. Condos can be built anywhere… Was this all to get back at Mom or something?”
“Sana, this is business. Not personal. And your street should be—”
“I know. I know. It should be higher-density housing. But at the expense of the people who call it their home now? Your daughter actually lives there. Your only daughter, remember?”
“Your mother wants to sell. This isn’t on me. And as for remembering you’re my daughter, I’m not sure what you want from me. We try to see you as often as we can. I pay child support, and I said we’d help with your college expenses.”
That’s it? That’s all he thinks he needs to do to be my father?
Biweekly brunches and money? I feel tears start forming at the corners of my eyes, and it makes me even angrier.
“What do I want from you? I want my father back! Remember when we used to actually do things together? We went to all those festivals and fairs, and even Comicon every year? It felt like you wanted to spend that time with me.” I swallow the shakiness in my voice.
“I want you to want to see me because I’m your daughter, not because it’s your duty.
And not see you and Noureen for an awkward brunch every two weeks so she can tell me all the things I need to fix about myself before she’ll accept me. ”
Dad doesn’t say anything for a while. I should have said this to him a long time ago. “Sana, Noureen is my wife,” he finally says. “And she’s never done anything—”
I interrupt him. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.
I know exactly what Noureen has done to my family.
” My voice is completely cracking here, but I don’t stop.
I say the thing I don’t think I’ve ever said aloud.
To anyone. Ever. “I know Noureen started a relationship with a married man.”
Dad stares at me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking… but he definitely didn’t expect me to say that. “Sana, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You can’t deny it. I know you were together long before you and Mom split up.”
“You can’t know—”
“I’ve known since the beginning.” My stupid eyes are tearing up now.
I ignore it, letting the tears fall down my cheeks.
“I overheard you talking to her on the phone— before you and Mom separated. You said you couldn’t wait to see her.
You said you would be together soon. When you told me you were divorcing, you and Mom promised that it wasn’t because either of you were seeing someone new. You were lying, weren’t you?”
“Sana, you were only nine years old. You couldn’t—”
I raise my voice. “When you said you weren’t splitting up because of another person, were you lying? It’s a simple question, Dad.”
He shakes his head, angry now. “You don’t have the right to come here accusing me like this. Does your mother know you’re here?”
“No. Mom doesn’t know I’m here. Hell, she doesn’t even know I know about your infidelity.” I exhale. “You destroyed my family once, and now you’re doing it again with this real estate deal.”
He looks at me for a while. I wipe my eyes. I can’t even see any sympathy in his face. He doesn’t care that I’m hurt.
“What is it you expect me to do?” he asks. His voice is quiet.
“I don’t know. Maybe be honest with me? You knew all this was happening. That Mom was getting offers to sell. You pretended you wanted me to move in with you… just because of a real estate deal.” My voice cracks there. I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to look at him.
“Sana, you don’t understand how these things work.”
I glare at him. “So help me understand, then. You all treat me like I’m too young and frivolous to understand serious things, but you never even give me the chance.
You guys are my family, and you’re supposed to want the best for me, but no one bothers getting my input about what is actually working or not working for me.
You just sit there while your wife tries to turn me into her perfect daughter instead of getting to know who I am.
You do whatever is best for you and your bank accounts without thinking about how it will affect your family. ”
Something in my dad’s face softens then. The anger leaves and is replaced by sadness and real compassion. I haven’t seen that expression on my father’s face since… well, since a long time ago. Since I fell off my bike when he was teaching me to ride it. Since my first cat died when I was six.
Why did it take so long for him to actually look like he loves me?
He shakes his head. “Sana. I’m sorry. None of this was my decision. Your mother wants to sell. If not through me, it will be through someone else. But you’re right—we don’t spend enough time together. Let me cancel my afternoon appointments. We can have lunch and… talk. Just us.”
Why? To wipe my tears? There was a time when I would have jumped at that offer.
I wanted more than anything to feel important to him.
But I won’t let him disappoint me again.
I shake my head and stand. “It’s too late for us, Dad.
You’ve let me down too many times.” I turn and walk out the door before he can stop me.
“Sana, wait,” Dad says, calling for me down the hallway.
I walk right out of the office and down the stairs. And my father doesn’t follow me.