Chapter 4 Miller - Dear Old Dad
“Okay, now do a twirl for me!”
I watch my sister, Margot, happily direct my daughter, her niece, with a big ole camera strapped around her neck.
Penelope shimmies and twirls for every picture Margot snaps.
They’ve been at it for about an hour now.
I’m not sure how long photoshoots like this normally last, but I’m not gonna be the guy to interrupt them or try to end it early.
When Margot asked me to borrow Penelope to practice portrait style shoots, I barely let her finish the sentence before I was telling her yes.
Penelope and I aren’t broke. She never has to need for anything, and she only wants occasionally. I’ve worked my ass off for the past seven years to give us every chance at comfort and stability.
But professional pictures weren’t ever in the budget, and I have beat myself up about it.
Our apartment has a bunch of 4x6 images I printed at the drugstore and put in random frames, all pictures I took on my cell phone.
So Margot offering me the chance to let my girl feel special and get big moments of her life like this captured?
Sold. Done. Best fucking sister and aunt award, and she’s only been at it for a couple months.
I never let myself visualize this as a possible reality before now. Family beyond the two of us wasn’t anything I gave myself time to want. I thought finding a long lost half sister from a shared piece of shit father was something people only ever read about.
But that’s Merrymount for ya.
I think Margot needed the distraction of this photoshoot, too.
It feels like the entire town is waiting on the paternity results of Katie St. James’s baby–if Sawyer is the father and what this means for Margot and Sawyer together.
Plus, she’s processing mine and my kid’s entire existence.
On top of probably reopening some fatherly wounds.
I stopped by Margot’s cottage the other day and found her at the edge of the river, staring out at the water. I noticed Sawyer’s Jeep wasn’t in their shared driveway. I walked up next to her, we looked at each other, and neither of us said anything.
After about five or so minutes of quiet, Margot screamed.
It made the hair on my neck stand straight at the pent up frustration and hurt I could hear.
The geese that were silently wading in the water only a second before went flying into the sky.
It felt like it was years in the making and these last few hits just came at her hard.
She told me she can only focus on one big thing at a time, and I get it, so we haven’t approached the subject of dear old dad. I get her need to take a break from the heavy.
For as fucking shitty as this all is, I’m glad Penelope and I land in the good distraction category of it all.
Penelope is, to no one’s surprise, a natural in front of the camera.
If I wasn’t so protective of her, I’d have tried to get her into some sort of modeling a while ago.
Of course I’m biased, but she really has always been the cutest fucking kid.
I got stopped no less than four or five times every time we left the apartment when she was a baby. It was cool, but it freaked me out.
I don’t leave much room for the unknown when it comes to Penelope. Keeping her safe, healthy, and happy are my top priorities. They’re my driving force to keep going.
“I think that about covers it, lil P,” Margot calls as she looks down at the small screen on her camera, flicking through the last round of pictures she snapped.
Penelope dashes over to me, crashing into my chest as she wraps her arms around my neck. Doesn’t matter if we’ve been apart an hour or an entire day, there’s no better feeling in the world than her being back in my arms.
“Daddy, did you see all of the pictures Auntie M took?! I’m like a movie star!”
“Sure did, kid. You looked beautiful,” I tell her for the nine millionth time in her life.
I panic-bought this book right before Penelope was born about raising daughters, and it talked a lot about this whole words of affirmation thing.
I grew up with my dad calling me a fucking dumbass for every single thing I did or said, so I needed all the help I could get.
My list of good role models was nonexistent.
Penelope was only hours old when I first started telling her,
You are kind.
You are smart.
You are brave.
You are strong.
You are beautiful.
I wanted her to be the most confident, sure of herself, and supported girl this world has ever seen. Almost six years later, I still want that. I’ll want and work for that forever.
“Miller, do you realize you have a mini model on your hands?” Margot states as she meets us at the bench I’m sitting on.
“I’ve known that since the day she was born. You’re the only photographer I’ll trust with her though.”
Margot rolls her eyes. “I’m not a real photographer. But, I appreciate it. I’ll be needing her in the future, and you, too. Family session! I can already picture it.”
“Maybe Miss Red will want to do it too!” Penelope exclaims.
Margot recovers faster than I can, swallowing a laugh. “I bet she’d love that. Hey, lil P, how about you go practice on the monkey bars for a little? You said earlier you wanted to.”
Penelope’s eyes light up and she turns to the playground. “We have time?” The question is directed at me.
“Go, have fun. Auntie M and I will be here when you’re ready to go.”
Before bolting off, Penelope runs up and gives me another quick hug. She does the same to Margot, and then she’s off.
The two of us watch her sprint to the jungle gym, immediately jumping into conversation with the few other kids who were already playing. I don’t know where she gets her extrovertism because it sure as shit isn’t from me.
“She’s pretty attached to Red, huh?” Margot asks.
“She’s obsessed. I’m just thankful she can’t reach the deadbolt on the door, or she’d bust out of the apartment in the mornings to see her before I’m ready to head out.”
“I mean, can you blame her?”
“Not at all.” It’s out of my mouth before I can think better of it, and I watch Margot’s eyebrows start to wiggle.
“So, what’s the deal with you two?”
Let the meddling begin.
“Aside from her letting us stay at her place while we’re homeless? Nothing.” If I say it enough times outloud, I’ll believe it.
“C’mon, I see the way you two act around each other. There haven’t been any new developments?”
“Gwen has more important stuff going on.”
“Gwen, is it?” I don’t miss the prodding tone in Margot’s voice.
“Red. You know what I meant. Besides, that important stuff involves you, so maybe we should redirect this conversation. How are you holding up?”
Margot slumps against the back of the bench. She’s so short that her feet don’t even reach the ground with the angle she’s chosen to sit at. She blows the hair that fell in front of her face up and away. “I’m fine.”
“Fine?” It’s my turn to probe.
“I can’t hope for either outcome because they both fucking suck.
On one hand, I’m about to be, like, a step mom-ish.
Which like—absolutely no offense to step moms—I don’t want to do with Katie.
And on the other hand, Red’s about to watch the worst non girls’ girl I’ve ever fucking met get the life she wanted with the guy she thought she was going to spend her life with. So, yeah, it’s just…fine. I guess.”
It’s the farthest thing from fine, but I get where she’s coming from. We’re all thinking that exact same thing. Who knew two people could cause so much damage in such a small amount of time?
“How’s Sawyer taking things?” I ask.
“Better than before, and honestly, that’s all I can ask for. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“Being a surprise dad isn’t the worst thing in the world.”
“Miller, shit.” Margot sits up and grabs my arm, worry written all over her face. “Of course it’s not. You’re the best dad. Penelope’s amazing.”
“Woah, hey. I didn’t take it personally. I just—I know he doesn’t know me that well, but if he needs…If he needs anyone with some experience, I’m here. I know it’s not the same—”
Margot squeezes my arm before releasing it and leans back again. “Thank you. Really, thank you. I’ll let him know. Speaking of dads…Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.” I think I have a feeling that I know where this is going.
“What was he like? I mean, how did you know how to do all of the right things?” She looks towards Penelope, watching her cheer on a boy her age as he swings from bar to bar.
“By being the exact opposite of everything he is. He’s not a good person, Margot. You didn’t miss out.”
She nods her head, and I take that as an invitation to continue, “He was…mean. To the bone, nasty. I don’t remember a single I love you or Way to go, kid or any sort of positivity from him.
And he beat my mom down every chance he got to the point where she just never said anything.
Our house was silent, unless he was angry.
It was walking on eggshells every second of the day until I heard his snores from the recliner in the living room.
“You know he refused to plan my mom a funeral when she died? He had her cremated and threw the urn in a closet.”
“Miller, oh my God. I’m so sorry,” Margot whispers.
“I used to obsessively write my eighteenth birthday down over and over again in the margins of notebooks in school, counting down the days until I could get out. A little bit after I turned sixteen, I found out my girlfriend was pregnant. I spent every minute that I wasn’t working on my school issued laptop figuring out how to get emancipated because I knew I wasn’t bringing any baby of mine home to him. ”
“Did he know?” she asks.
“No. He knew I had a job at the bank. I got a part time teller position, and he would do drive-bys to make sure I wasn’t lying about where I was. My manager knew the gist of things and let me do my research and homework in one of the empty offices.”
“But he had to have found out eventually?”
“The courts sent him summons paperwork for the hearing. I knew it was coming and saved every dime I made to get a small studio apartment, to prove my ability to be self-sufficient to the judge and to get away from him. The landlord took my pay stubs, sheer determination, and the application for emancipation as an act of faith. I’ll be thankful until I’m dead for that kindness. ”
I’ll never forget that court hearing. I prepared for the worst. I wore the best suit I could find at the thrift store to appear responsible and ready. I triple checked with the cashier that it looked good enough.
I thought my dad would come into that room swinging, fighting tooth and nail to keep me under him.
But he didn’t. It was the opposite. He was three sheets to the wind and asked the judge where he had to sign to get rid of me.
I was handed the declaration of emancipation only ten minutes later and left the courthouse feeling freer than ever before.
I went back to that small, studio apartment I had just signed the lease on a week before, grabbed the envelope of cash I had hidden under my mattress, and finally went to the closest Walmart to stock up on every baby-related thing I read about needing.
That day felt like a reset on my life. I knew shit was about to get a hell of a lot harder, but I didn’t care. The struggles from then on would have meaning and purpose. Everything would be on my terms and it wouldn’t be weighed down by anyone.
“Jesus, Miller. And you did all of this…alone?”
I know where Margot’s headed with this.
I’m not ready to talk about it though.
“Nah.” I bump into her with my shoulder. “I haven’t been alone since the day I found out about Penelope Grace.”
We both face the playground to see my girl recreating the shimmy and twirl poses from earlier for her friends, laughing with a grin that reaches so far it’s basically touching her ears.
Margot does this little shake thing—the tell she’s about to cry but trying not to—and turns to me with her head tilted. “Her middle name is Grace?”
“Mhm.” I wave to Penelope when she spots us.
My saving grace.
It’s what I told the nurse who handed me the birth certificate paperwork. As I was filling it out, her first name was easy. I saw her, and I just knew. But I was stuck on the middle name.
I thought, Grace, Grace…Penelope Grace Caswell. That’s a good name.
“Interesting,” Margot says slyly.
“Why?”
“That’s Red’s middle name, too.”
And for the rest of the afternoon, there was only one question on repeat in my mind.
Are you allowed two saving graces in your life?