19. Sebastian
NINETEEN
SEBASTIAN
The day of my father’s visit arrives faster than I expected.
His frequent texting lightened up in the last week.
To my surprise, I kind of missed his check-ins, but he was busy arranging his travel plans.
By mid-afternoon on this late April day, I’m checking the airline website to see if his departing flight left on time when he sends me a text.
Dad:
Sorry Sebastian, I can’t make it after all. Work and life came up, and I canceled my flight. We’ll catch up another time.
What the hell? I rearranged plans for this, and he couldn’t even tell me a day or two earlier? What was so important that he bailed on his kids at the last possible moment?
I reply, trying to force myself not to jump to conclusions.
That’s too bad. What came up?
I got an onslaught at work, so that’s been busier than anticipated.
Also, Aimee and I split up last week, but I met Sandy and we hit it off.
She’s a real free spirit. Next thing you know, she’s decided we needed to go to California instead so we’re en route to San Diego today.
We’re waiting on our connection in Dallas.
Sorry to disappoint, but I figured you’d understand!
I get it now. Aimee was the one who wanted to get to know me, and now that she’s out of the picture, he’s on to the next love of his life.
It’s the same old story. I hear my mom’s voice echo in my head.
He rushes in headfirst, then loses interest. That’s the way he is about everything: relationships, jobs, hobbies, parenting …
I knew this, but I got my hopes up again. Idiot. Just like when I was a kid and he promised to come to my birthday party or take me on a weekend trip—there was always a new job or a new woman or he’d bought a motorcycle and needed to test it out with a road trip instead.
I thought I was over being disappointed now that I’m an adult, but here I am again on this roller coaster.
The worst part is that he seemed genuinely interested in my work, proud of what I’m doing.
I thought he wanted to get to know the real me, not just throw the ball around in the yard for a while. What a chump.
What’s with the comment about me understanding?
Because I’m a player, as fickle as he is?
Or because I let him do this every time and give him the understanding he doesn’t deserve?
I can’t riddle out whether this is supposed to be a comment on how naive I am or if it’s his way of saying that I’m the same.
Usually, I’d let it go. That’s our routine. He promises and doesn’t deliver. I pretend it doesn’t sting. Lather, rinse, repeat. But I’m tired of this, and I can’t do it one more time.
I’m sorry too. I was looking forward to catching up and I was stupid enough to think it would be different this time, but I’m always secondary to the next shiny thing, right?
Hold on, son. Life happens. There’ll be another time.
I don’t appreciate you calling my girlfriend a shiny thing.
I roll my eyes and don’t reply. He phones and I let it go to voicemail because I know how it would go. He’d make it sound like I was making a big deal out of nothing. In Dad’s world, everyone is too needy or too emotional or too serious. I don’t feel like engaging with this right now.
I send a quick text to Sarah to check whether she got the same message that he sent me. She’s been unsure how to feel about Dad’s visit, which I get. She got even less of him than I did as a kid, but she’s also much younger than me, young enough to still believe people change.
Did you hear from Dad?
Sarah:
Yep. Surprise, surprise. I should have known this would happen.
Same, but it still sucks.
Poor kid. It makes my chest ache to imagine her disappointment, even if she doesn’t want to show it.
I need to talk to Ashley. Maybe texting with her will lessen the desire to punch something.
We haven’t been in touch much lately; she’s figuring stuff out with Jared.
She’s been cagey about how things are other than he’s been sick, so I’ve focused on dating women from the app instead, going out most evenings.
It’s to generate content and have some fun, not because I need a distraction from Ashley being busy.
I shouldn’t bug her, but she’s the one person I can be honest with about my Dad. I have to be strong for Sarah, and Penny and my mom feel sorry for me—I can’t deal with that level of commiseration. Ashley just gets it.
My dad’s not coming after all. He bailed. New girlfriend wants to go to California.
Ashley:
Fuck him.
I lean my head back and laugh, my mood immediately lighter.
Tell me how you really feel.
Seriously, fuck him. His loss. He doesn’t deserve you.
Thanks Ash.
I don’t know how I’m disappointed after all these years. Fool me once and all that.
Because he’s your dad and he’s supposed to be there for you. You aren’t supposed to have to guard yourself against your own parents.
Yeah, well…
What do you need right now?
What I want is to beg her to come over, to drink a bottle of whiskey with me or go for a run so fast and hard that our lungs hurt.
Or fall into bed with me until I can’t think any more.
But Jared is in the picture now. Even if they aren’t serious, I can’t ask that of her.
She’s not supposed to be my emotional crutch.
Want me to come over after work?
I should tell her to go back to Jared and have a happy, healthy, boring relationship. But I don’t.
Fuck yes.
While I’m waiting for Ashley, I hit the condo gym, letting out my frustration and disappointment and anger on the rowing machine and some weights.
I do too many reps, but it has the desired effect.
The pain that comes from pushing myself a little too close to my limit drowns out the voices in my head.
Ashley arrives after I’ve showered and put some chicken breasts in the oven.
She didn’t say if she was eating beforehand, but I’ve been doing too much take out recently and it felt calming somehow to pull together a marinade and whip up an easy salad dressing.
She shows up with a bottle of red wine and raises an eyebrow while giving me a once-over.
“I thought I’d find you eating cookie dough and ordering trash, but here you are cooking. You’re even wearing real pants!”
I’m in jeans. Nothing fancy, but I wanted to look presentable. “What can I say? When I wallow, I wallow in style.”
She stares at me, shaking her head. “Sebastian, you’ve lost your touch.”
“Why?”
“I thought you’d say you didn’t plan on wearing them for long or something to that effect.”
I tilt my head back, laughter running through me and taking me away from this crappy day. “Listen, if you want me to strip down in the kitchen, you’re going to have to say so yourself. I won’t make assumptions.”
She smirks at me, her face offering a challenge. “Stay dressed, at least for now. Naked cooking is a bad idea, but the night is young.”
We skip the wine and stick with carbonated water at first, then relax on the couch until the chicken is done.
With Ashley here, the sting of my father’s dismissal doesn’t feel as sharp.
We talk shop for a while, look over some analytics that Seth pulled, and discuss what’s been working on the platform.
It’s nice to have a friend who enjoys this stuff.
I like watching her brain work when she looks at views and shares and hashtags, pulling numbers and data together like a giant puzzle.
Most women see me the way I want them to—carefree, flirty, not too serious.
I keep the business side mostly boxed up.
But Ashley has been around long enough to see all the parts of me and how they fit together.
We don’t discuss dating, especially not this Jared guy. I’m sure he’s a nice person. Boyfriend material, a catch who is apparently not afraid of commitment in this day and age. I don’t want to know any more. If they were serious, she wouldn’t be here.
When the oven timer goes off, I throw together a salad and some leftover mushroom pasta from yesterday. It’s nice—refreshing, even—to talk about nothing. We don’t even mention my dad. It’s all been said already.
That easy silence dies shortly after dinner when we’re filling the dishwasher and the texts start to come through.
Dad sends a slew of photos with a platinum blond woman who looks half his age.
They have big smiles, and he lets me know they’re about to go for an early romantic dinner near the water and tomorrow, the zoo.
I don’t respond. My little sister texts me next.
Sarah:
What the actual fuck?
Who chooses the ZOO over his own kids? I thought we were having dinner tonight, but cool, go see the pandas Dad. Obviously that’s more important.
I thought Dad and I were having dinner one-on-one tonight, but I’m not surprised he made plans with both of us without communicating. He always keeps his cards close. He probably promised all of his time to both of us.
Yeah, he’s an ass. As always.
I thought this time was different.
Never mind.
I know, sis. I get it.
I suspect this is a situation where a younger person would send a series of appropriately funny yet poignant GIFs, but I’m now hopelessly old to my baby sister so I just send some heart emojis.
Do you want me to call you and we can talk?
Phone calls? OK boomer.
You’re killing me.
Thanks for trying, even if you’re an old man.
I laugh out loud and feel a light pressure on my arm. Ashley is looking at me with eyes full of empathy. She’s been watching my exasperated sighs this whole time. Now I’m emotionally spent; she offers a generous pour of wine.
Do you get it? Do you get now why I don’t do relationships? It’s exhausting enough for me when I’m not even the one in them.
I say nothing, just accept the glass and her hand as she takes mine. Then I rise and pace around the room to release some of my pent-up anger. The wine sloshes in my glass.
“You’re a good brother,” Ash says quietly.