10. Carlisle
10
Carlisle
I take my lunch outside to eat in the sunshine. I plan on calling Harper to update her about the talk I had with Ben last night as I eat. She’s going to flip out when I tell her. I know I’m flipping out. After Ben and I hung up last night, it took me hours to fall back asleep because I was so excited at the prospect of going on a real date with him.
As I pull my phone out of my purse, I feel it vibrating from an incoming call. Assuming it’s Harper beating me to the punch, but hoping it might be Ben, I’m supremely disappointed to see it’s my stepmother calling.
Chastising myself for my negative attitude, I answer the phone. I should be grateful that she’s reaching out. My relationship with my dad has been strained since my mom died, and my stepmother is my only conduit to him now.
“Hey Monica.”
“Carlisle! It is so good to hear your voice!”
I cringe at her over-the-top, falsely jovial delivery, yet I adopt the same tone. “Same, Monica. How are the twins? How’s Dad doing?”
“Well, you’d know that if you ever came home, wouldn’t you?” Monica admonishes, which only makes me grit my teeth .
She knows that I rarely visit them because they always give me some excuse as to why it isn’t a good time to make the trip—the house is getting remodeled, they’re busy with charity events, the twins are having a sleep regression so now isn’t the time to upset their routine. But with the holidays coming up, I’m hopeful that I can reconnect with them. As complicated as my feelings are for my dad, I miss him and want things to be different between us.
With Thanksgiving fast approaching, I don’t have the funds to make last-minute travel arrangements, but I still have time to book a trip home for Christmas. “I doubt I can make it for Thanksgiving since I haven’t bought a ticket yet, but—”
“Thanksgiving is cray-cray this year, girlypop” Monica chimes in, reminding me that she’s closer to my age than my dad’s. “We’re going to celebrate with my family in Georgia for the whole week. My sister and brother are both bringing their spouses and kids, so it’ll be the first time since the twins were born that our whole family will be together for Thanksgiving.”
Ouch. Monica didn’t even think of including me as part of her w hole family . Not unexpected, but it still stings.
“Umm, okay. Well, I’d love to come see y’all for Christmas then. It’ll be great to be back home. I love living in Los Angeles, but there’s just something special about being home for the holidays.” I force a chuckle, hoping my faux levity covers my rising hurt. “Sounds cliché, doesn’t it?”
Monica pauses, and my heart starts beating erratically, sensing that she’s about to deliver more bad news. “That’s why I’m calling, darlin'. One of your daddy’s clients offered us the use of his vacation home in Mexico over Christmas. It’s right on the beach in Tulum. The photos look positively dreamy! ”
“Oh, wow. Okay, that sounds great. I’m glad I didn’t already buy my plane ticket then,” I stammer, disappointed not to be going to Mississippi and experiencing a homestyle Southern Christmas. But as rocky as my relationship with my dad is, I can’t be picky about where I spend time with him. All that’s important is that I get time with him to see if we can salvage what’s left of our relationship.
Not to mention trying to get to know the twins better. Growing up as an only child, I’d always dreamed of having siblings. Even though there’s a huge age difference between us, I really would love to play an active role in my little brothers’ lives.
“Right. So, as I was saying, the house is a quaint, little two-bedroom beachfront cottage. I’ll send you the contact information in case you need to get ahold of us while we’re out of the country. We’ll sure miss seeing you, but I know you’ll have such a great time celebrating the holidays with all your new friends in California,” Monica explains, quickly dashing my hopes of spending Christmas with the only family I have left.
My heart sinks. I should have expected something like this would happen, but it’s taken me by surprise. Monica seems to enjoy widening the gap between my father and me whenever possible.
“I’ll text you later with our travel details,” she trills, seemingly oblivious to my disappointment. “And don’t be such a stranger, Carlisle. Ciao.”
Monica’s phone call zapped my earlier excitement. I slump dejectedly on the bench, wallowing in my sadness. It dredges up the old memories that I fight to forget about my dad.
It sucks having only one living parent, and it sucks even worse coming to terms with the fact that my dad doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. I spent twenty years erroneously believing that my dad’s love for me was unconditional, and I’ve spent the last three years unpacking the pain of figuring out how wrong I was.
Considering that he’s made no overtures to even talk to me since I moved to LA, I shouldn’t be surprised that my dad doesn’t want to see me during the holidays, but I am. Realizing that he doesn’t miss me is a bitter pill to swallow.
I’ve lost my appetite. I wrap up my lunch and throw it into a trash can.
When I settle back down on the bench, I call Harper.
“What took you so long to call me? I have been on pins and needles all day waiting to hear from you. Did you talk to Ben? What have you got for me? I’ll put you on speakerphone so I can add things the list we started last night.” Harper’s infectious enthusiasm is the perfect remedy to my brooding.
“Let me get a word in edgewise!”
“Sorry, sorry, but this is turning out to be more fun than I thought it would be.” Harper drops her voice to a dramatic whisper. “Do you think he could work for the CIA or something? Maybe he’s a spy and that’s why he can’t tell you his real identity. The name’s Bond, Ben Bond.”
“You’re such a dork, Harp.”
“Well aware. Now tell me what you learned about him,” she demands.
"I got kind of side-tracked when I spoke to him and forgot to get more details from him."
Harper harrumphs. "You know who wouldn't be a good spy? You! How did you lose sight of your mission, Car? C'mon. Surely you learned something new about the guy."
I wrack my brain. “He’s not a bartender anymore."
"Okay. What's he doing now?"
"No idea. He didn't say."
"Well, what did he say?" gripes Harper impatiently.
"Umm… he asked me out on a date. Sort of. I kind of held his feet to the fire, but that’s not important. What is important is that we’re going to meet up on Sunday for a day date!”
Excitement fills Harper's voice. “You should have led with that information, Carlisle!”
"I tried, but you wouldn't stop yapping."
“Your date is this Sunday? What are you going to wear?”
Good god, I hadn't even thought about what I am going to wear yet!
“No, the following Sunday. Like, nine days from now. The Sunday before Thanksgiving,” I clarify.
“Why wait? If you guys want to meet up, why not do it sooner? Like, this weekend?”
Valid questions. Ones I hadn’t considered last night because I was caught up in the excitement of Ben being willing to meet me at all.
Honestly, I probably would have agreed to a date a month from now if that was the day he offered.
“I don’t know,” I whine, feeling defensive. “He just threw out that day and I accepted. Maybe he’s busy until then?”
Harper responds, slowly drawing out each word. “He’s an unemployed bartender, yet he’s busy for the next nine days?”
“Maybe?” I squeak.
Damn, I really thought Harper would be excited for me, but she’s just stirring up more doubts.
Why does he need nine days to meet me?