Chapter 40 Worth It
Worth It
I’m humming to myself on a bench in the round stone room, like a prisoner in the weird nineties medieval comedy parodies my dad loves. As the door to the tower creaks open and JSP enters, I remind myself to ask my dad at dinner why that genre was even a thing.
“So, girls,” he says, a big smile on his face. “How was the challenge? Yumi, I know you have some difficulty with heights.”
“This wasn’t bad,” Yumi says, smiling softly.
JSP looks disappointed. “Well, you’ve both chosen a person from the crowd. How confident are we in our selections?”
“One hundred percent, Jonathan,” I say, glancing at Yumi across the room.
The look on her face is one of false uncertainty. “I don’t know.” She meets my eyes, her eyebrows drawn. “I’m…Yeah, I’m not sure.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes at her antics. Once again, Yumi’s reality show IQ is higher than mine. Easy screen time. I force a concerned expression onto my face. “You’re not sure?”
She shakes her head, over-apologetic. “I’m sorry, Noe. I…I don’t think I got it right.”
I hope that her emotions feel real to the audience, because they’re so clearly exaggerated to me. “Really?”
“Really.”
JSP looks between us. “Shall we find out?”
“Yes,” I say, cheating a hesitant glance in the direction of the camera.
“Yumi,” he says, drifting to a spot in the center of the room. “Would you join me?”
“Sure.” The mask of solemnity slips for a second, revealing how excited she truly is. I feel like clapping, like a kid on Christmas morning. I can’t wait for her to see her lola.
“Who are we expecting to see walk through that door?” Jonathan asks, gesturing toward the large arch ahead of them.
“My lola,” she says, her voice hitching. “My grandma.”
“Okay,” he calls to whichever producer is standing in the hallway. “Send in, hopefully, Yumi’s lola.”
There is a moment where I panic. What if I did choose the wrong person? Yumi would be devastated. She misses her family almost as much as I miss mine.
But then a familiar figure enters the room, heading directly to Yumi and wrapping around her.
Yumi’s watery greeting is in Tagalog, and not a common enough one for me to understand. It feels like an I missed you to me, though.
“Yumi, is it safe to assume this lovely woman is your grandma?”
“Yeah, I’d put money on that,” she jokes, fighting back tears.
I’m almost in tears, too. JSP peppers Yumi and her lola with questions like “What makes a grandmother-granddaughter different from a mother-daughter relationship?” Every season, just on the family visit episode, JSP turns into an alien who has no understanding of human interactions.
He pulls out these questions that communicate a fundamental misunderstanding of family dynamics.
I don’t know why this happens, but I’m fully expecting him to ask my dad what makes him my father and not my brother.
“Okay, Yumi. Say goodbye to your lola for now. You’ll see each other again at dinner tonight.”
They embrace again and Yumi’s lola gives me a wave before disappearing back into the stairwell.
I rock back on my heels, my body tingling with excitement, until I catch sight of the heartbroken look on Yumi’s face.
You’ll see her later, I mouth comfortingly, but her expression doesn’t change.
JSP gestures for us to switch spots, so we do.
“Noelle, who are we expecting for you?”
“My dad,” I say, my voice almost breaking.
“I see you’re getting emotional. What’s coming up for you right now?”
I swallow. “My dad is…important to me. And he’s pretty sick, so it’ll be a huge relief to see him and know he’s doing okay.”
“So this reunion would be a good thing for your game?”
“Definitely,” I answer without elaborating. I just want him to bring out my dad already.
“Okay, well, Noelle’s father, come on out!”
Footsteps tap on the stairs, settling somewhere behind me.
I glance over at Yumi, whose face has fallen dramatically.
“Oh, fuck off,” I say with a laugh. “I know you—”
I turn. And it’s not my dad.
It’s not my dad.
It’s not. My dad.
My legs nearly collapse out from beneath me.
This man standing in front of me is not just Not My Dad, he’s exceptionally Not My Dad. His sandy blond hair, his flat-bordering-on-apathetic expression, the blown-out tribal sleeve on his right arm.
Oh.
Tears blur my vision as I take in the sight of this man standing before me, the one who is supposed to be my father but looks nothing like him. A bitter taste fills my mouth.
JSP gives me a pitying look. “Noelle—”
“No,” I croak out, cutting him off. “That’s not my dad.”
I can’t meet anyone’s eyes—not the stranger’s, not the TV host’s, not my partner’s, and not the audience’s. I keep my gaze downcast.
“I can see you’re having a hard time with this, Noelle. Tell us what’s going on for you.”
Slimy. It’s so slimy. They manufactured this to make me sad, and now they pretend to care for television drama.
I try to channel what KC told me: I’m playing a character, and that character is mostly me, but they’re also a role.
No matter how heartbroken I am, no matter how pissed, no matter what—I’m here to put on a show.
So I smile. It looks sad, and it’s supposed to. “Yeah, this is really hard for me. My dad is my best friend and he’s pretty sick right now. I was looking forward to seeing him.”
JSP gives me a saccharine smile right back. “It must be hard for you, then, to think about Yumi’s reunion with her lola just now.”
Evil. I’ve pulled back the curtain on my favorite show and discovered that JSP is a supervillain. “Yeah, it definitely is. But I can see my dad when I get home. Right now, I just need to focus on winning The Adventureverse.”
“Is part of the reason you’re so upset about not seeing your dad because you’re worried something might happen to him before you get home?”
What. What? How dare he—
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Yumi’s fists clench and release. I wonder if JSP can see that exact same emotional process in my facial expression—the reaction to the mental slap and the recovery afterward.
Game.
Fans.
Two. Million. Dollars.
My dad.
Instead of punching him, I simply admit, “Yeah. Yes, it is.” And the horrified look on JSP’s face is almost worth it.