17. Sebastian
SEVENTEEN
SEBASTIAN
I stare down at the message from my younger half sister.
Sarah:
So, is Dad dying or something? He’s texted me more this week than in my entire life.
I thought my dad would lose interest in our conversation after a day or two, but to my surprise, he keeps in contact, messaging every couple of days and even calling again. I guess it’s not just me, because Sarah, reaches out a week after Dad’s initial call.
No idea. It’s weird. And nice? But weird.
Nice is a stretch.
He called me early this morning, then asked why I’m so tired and whether I’d been partying. WTF? You haven’t parented me in two decades and now you care?
Early like noon?
Shut up. I’m a university student, okay. I’m allowed to sleep until noon!
Did he tell you he’s supposed to visit in a few weeks?
Dad dropped the itinerary on me yesterday. It would have been nice to run his travel dates by me first, but these are baby steps.
Yeah. I can’t remember the last time I even saw him, but I guess this is happening.
We end up deciding that he’s either having a late mid-life crisis or dying or his new flame is into the “involved dad” look. We’ll have to ride this out to see.
“I’m famished,” Ashley moans as she slides into the booth across from me.
We’re meeting at a Vietnamese bánh mì spot downtown.
We’ve both been busy, plus she’s seemed distant lately, though maybe I’m imagining that because I’ve gotten used to seeing her a lot for the past few months.
I finally roped her into dinner because I wanted to talk business, not because I missed her. Of course not.
We talk shop for a while, going over social media numbers and some recent press.
We’ve had a few meetings with the Vancouver group, and Seth and I also did an interview for a popular Toronto-based news and culture site, so my days have been full.
Finally, Ashley changes the topic and asks about my dad.
“He’s been texting me pretty regularly, which is …” I trail off. Great? Unnerving? Surprising with a side of foreboding? This is part of why I haven’t brought it up.
She nods like she understands. “Well, I’m glad he’s trying, at least for now.”
“Yeah, for now being the operative term. Anyway, what’s up with you? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
Ashley laughs. “We used to see each other like twice a year. Now you miss me when it’s twice a month.”
I try to keep it cool, like I haven’t been keeping track of how long it’s been since we last saw each other—three weeks, but it feels like longer. “I guess I got used to our runs and stuff.”
I’ve made a lot of progress with my running. I even managed to do five kilometers without stopping last week, though by the end I was so slow that all the power walkers were speeding past. I might even survive one of her group runs, but I won’t invite myself.
“So run with me this weekend,” she suggests. “I know it’s a pain getting uptown, but the company is good.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
She opens her mouth and closes it as if there’s something she’s hesitant about. My stomach drops, not sure what to expect. Finally, she says, “I might have met someone.”
I twist my mouth into a smile, despite feeling like someone’s splashed me with water. “That’s great! Wait, what do you mean by might?”
She flashes a small smile. “We’ve gone on one date, and since then we’ve exchanged messages every day.
He’s funny and sweet and definitely handsome, but we haven’t gone out again, so it’s hard to say where it’s going.
I felt weird being with you under the circumstances.
I know I often end up juggling a few guys on the app, but this feels different. ”
I’m supposed to be happy for her. This is what she’s wanted for a long time, and if her gut is telling her that this guy may be the real deal, I should be jumping for joy.
But I’m a shitty person because part of me feels like I’ve been kicked in the stomach.
“I get what you’re saying. We can pause that side of our friendship.
We always said that was a possibility, and I’m happy for you. ”
“Don’t jump the gun or anything. I wanted to tell you so you know I’m not ghosting you.”
I reach over and almost stroke her hand, but that’s not a just-friends kind of move. Instead, I grab a napkin like that was my intention all along. She catches it and a bemused look crosses her face.
“Thanks for telling me. You know I’m your biggest fan, and I want you to be happy.”
And we both know that I’m not capable of giving her what she needs for long-term happiness.
Ashley smiles at me. “You’re the best, Bash.”
That couldn’t be further from the truth, but I smile anyway.
On the weekend, I take a rideshare at the crack of dawn to run with Ashley and her friends, hoping to do at least five kilometers this time.
Her friend Mark, who hasn’t talked to me much but seems genuinely glad every time I run a little farther, says we can pivot to do two five-kilometer loops.
That way I won’t have to split off so early.
I’m touched that he’s willing to reroute everyone just for me.
“Sure, if you don’t mind, but please don’t feel like you have to.”
“I want to. Part of why I run this group is to help new runners find their footing.” He gives an embarrassed grin. “Sorry, I’m an engineer. Puns are what I do.”
I keep up with the group for most of the first loop and start to lag on the home stretch.
I see Ashley look over like she’s about to slow down for me, but Cal hangs back with me instead.
He doesn’t say much, probably because it’s obvious that I still have trouble talking and running at the same time.
I manage to bring up the turntable Ashley mentioned, and he happily tells me about sound quality.
He’s a more interesting guy than I initially gave him credit for.
I sense he could talk my ear off about vinyl, but he’s holding back since I can barely respond to yes or no questions.
Still, it’s good to have someone to listen to—it distracts me from my quads and how they’re wondering if I’ve lost my mind.
“You have good taste,” I finally huff out after he tells me about some rare Led Zeppelin LP he found.
“Thanks.” He gives a little shrug. I can tell he’s not the kind of poser who wants to brag about his finds. He genuinely enjoys this stuff.
“Ashley always forces me to listen to emo bands from the 2000s. Lots of Dashboard Confessional and My Chemical Romance. Either that or show tunes, but I can only take so much Andrew Lloyd Webber.”
“There’s a lot of Lady Gaga in our apartment …
” Cal trails off like he doesn’t like it, but the way he looks over at Laurel, I suspect he’d listen to “Baby Shark” on repeat all day if that’s what she wanted.
Even the way he said “our apartment” reminds me of Seth’s goofy smile since the engagement.
Ashley wasn’t kidding that these two have got it bad.
I glance at Cal, whose gaze is still on Laurel.
Ashley told me he was married before, to his first girlfriend.
He moved to Toronto when his marriage fell apart.
It seems so wild to marry the first person you ever dated.
By my late teens, I was already the most notorious flirt in my high school.
The guy to hide in a dark corner with at a dance, but not someone you brought home to a family dinner.
How do people jump right in and commit from the get-go?
Is it because their families aren’t a mess like mine?
I don’t know why I’m thinking about this—I can’t change the past.
My mouth is moving before I can stop it. “What’s your dad like?”
Cal turns his head, brow furrowed. “My dad?”
“Sorry,” I sputter, made worse by the fact that I’m not great at running and talking. “That was out of left field. My father resurfaced lately after being pretty absent. I guess he’s on my mind.”
We run in silence for a moment. I wonder if I’ve offended Cal somehow, but then he speaks.
“He’s old school, you could say. Keep your head down, suck it up, do the work, that kind of thing.
He’d never admit that he misses me, but I know he does by the way he asks when I’ll be coming up to help with the yard work this spring.
I used to be more like him, but it turns out that just sucking it up doesn’t make all your problems go away. ”
There’s pain in his voice, but he shakes it off before I can decide if I’m supposed to respond. “My ex tried for over a decade to turn him into a hugger but never succeeded.” He chuckles. “Does that answer your question?”
It does but it adds more. It’s clear his family wasn’t the group hug, matching pajamas type, but at least his dad was around.
I’m fascinated by the mention of his ex, though.
How do people like him pick up and move on after that kind of drama?
My dad always bounces back, but his affections are never more than a few inches deep.
If they come up in conversation at all, any former flames are described as clingy, misguided, or just plain crazy.
God forbid you mention he’s the common denominator.
My only real ex is Brianna, and she opted for a scorched-earth policy when we broke up.
To this day, even the name Brianna makes me cringe.
Cal talking warmly about his former wife blows my mind.
Ash and Laurel are running ahead, chatting and laughing.
I wonder what it’s like to have that kind of friendship where you share anything and everything the way they do, even if sometimes there’s drama and tension.
I’m clearly grasping at anything to distract me from the pain of running—thankfully we’ll be done our run before I turn this into a therapy session.
When we make it back to the starting point, part of the group is waiting around to begin their second loop. Ashley comes over to me, but I wave her off. “Go and run with your friends. I have to get going anyway.”