Chapter 5 #2
Dad adjusted his collar, his shirt pristine in contrast to his growing facial hair which would be freshly shaved as soon as Delilah arrived.
He wasn’t always as spoiled as he was now.
I have a few foggy memories of him mowing the lawn, me on his lap as he made silly patterns in the grass.
I remember thinking I wanted to be just like him when I grew up.
Big, strong and funny. But that didn’t last long and by the time I was five, his business trips were longer and his time at home shorter.
I’d go months without seeing him or Mum, spending my time with staff or at Seb’s house as I got older.
Anything I learnt was from whoever was assigned to care for me, most only here for a few months before they headed someplace new, and other than Bert, many of the faces were some I couldn’t remember even if I tried.
“Better than well. Sold a couple of places out on the bay last week. One went for 21 million!” He huffed, praising himself for a sale which was likely orchestrated by his employees.
But the company was his, which meant the credit also somehow always belonged to him, only further exacerbating his vanity.
“Impressive.” Leaning against the bench, I looked out over the pool, already bored.
I spent many long summer days out there.
Often with no supervision, meaning my friends and I could indulge in the things every teenager wanted but didn’t have the means to even try.
Plenty of underage drinking with those looking to escape the confines of parentage and have some fun.
Only after they left, I felt the hollow coldness of my loneliness, while they went home to the kind of warmth only real love creates.
“What’s impressive?” Mum asked, returning with a plate of something baked, certainly made by someone other than her.
I remember asking if we could make my birthday cake one year.
Anything to spend some time together, and she didn’t even try to save my feelings.
Telling me it was ridiculous to make one ourselves when we had people who could do it for us.
I didn’t tell her that every year Judy would make me a treat.
I didn’t tell her that even now, on each birthday, I still received a delivery - a freshly baked delight with a handwritten note from the woman I often wished was my mum.
It wasn’t my intention to hurt my mother - not that she deserved compassion - but I could tell children weren’t a life she wanted.
An afterthought that was likely thrust upon her as Preston Dane wanted an heir. In name if nothing else.
“I was just telling Cooper about those properties I sold across the water.”
“Oh, yes. Quite the sale.” She raised her brows, swirling her wine before taking a sip. She was no doubt recalling the hefty profit which accompanied them more than praising him.
The love I had for my parents was almost out of duty.
There was no denying that financially, I never wanted for anything growing up.
Whatever I put on my birthday or Christmas list, I was guaranteed to receive - and then some.
But that kind of excitement only lasted so long. What I really craved was quality time.
If you asked them, they’d probably say they did a good job, and honestly, that belief was often the only thing stopping me from completely losing it. But the older I got, the more I realised, they were parents in name only.
“Did your mother tell you Samantha wanted to see you?”
“She mentioned something, yeah.” I sighed, pushing my hair off my forehead only for it to immediately fall back into place. Maybe I did need a cut.
“And?” He asked expectantly. Mum stood by his side, always a them, never an us.
And I was well versed in this vicious cycle, knowing it would only cease if I gave them the answer they wanted.
Only I was tired of the games. Tired of the cycle which left me frustrated and with feelings of inadequacy when I didn’t comply.
“I’m actually dating someone,” I said before I had time to really think about the follow-up questions which were about to be shot like water from a jet.
Mum put her glass down, her eyes sparkling with delight.
“Oh, honey, that’s wonderful. When can we meet her?”
“Ummm,” I pretended to consider the question as if there was a viable answer. I hadn’t considered anything other than getting them off my back but of course they were going to want to meet her. My invisible, entirely fictitious, could not be more fake if I tried – girlfriend.
I didn’t have any female friends other than the boys’ partners – although maybe Marls would be willing to play pretend - if Seb didn’t kill me for even asking.
Dad was looking at me through narrowed eyes and his disbelief was as obvious as the blue in the sky.
“It’s Evangeline.” I announced, internally castigating myself for the hole I was digging on so many levels.
Nice work, Coop.
Since we’d been talking so often, she was on my mind, only this was beyond any conversation about the job or her finishing her studies. This was on a level I shouldn’t have been entering. “You remember Eva?” I continued, committing to the lie as if I had any right.
Mum’s eyebrows dipped in confusion, “Judy’s daughter, Eva?”
“That’s the one. We caught up again a few months back with Seb and his girlfriend, Marlee.” I shrugged to camouflage my floundering.
“Hmmmm,” she nodded, her strained expression lacking warmth. “I haven’t seen her in years. What’s she doing for herself?” Mum had the false pleasantries down to an art and I knew what she really meant was how successful was she. Whether she was going to bring something – money – to the family.
“She’s just finished her studies in business and is moving to the city.” I fumbled, not sure where this narrative was coming from but knowing I needed to wrap it up and change the topic before I got myself any deeper into a situation I couldn’t escape.
As if I wasn’t already there.
“If she’s buying, I’ll get her a great deal.” Dad huffed, an edge of scrutiny in his comment.
“She’ll move in with me until she finds a place, but I’ll definitely give you a call.” I prevaricated further.
Shit, this was getting outlandish even for me. She hadn’t even started working with me and now she was my girlfriend, and we were living together.
“Living together? That better include a ring!”
My father, a man of honour in appearances only.
He was sizing me up, scanning for any tells that I was lying. But I’d perfected the game of deception when it came to them.
A defence mechanism. A necessity. Survival.
And I learnt how to do so from the best. He just didn’t realise.
“Oh, don’t rush them, honey.” That tight-lipped smoothing over thing my mother did? It pissed me off, just like all the other times she pivoted a conversation she thought might get heated or reveal truths deeper than superficial.
“It does actually.”
The silence which descended the room was as enjoyable as it was terrifying.
Because, while I stood with a smirk which was a direct result of the uncertainty on both of their faces, I also knew I now needed to follow this through.
And that came with a whole other list of what the fuck were you thinking.
When my phone serendipitously rang cutting through the tense silence, it was the perfect escape.
I provided a brief apology, a feasible excuse for why I couldn’t stay for dinner and a promise to visit as soon as I could with my new fake girlfriend/possible fiancée.
The farewell was more stilted than normal, the ride home spent trying to pull together some half-decent idea Evangeline might go for, because things were already going to be painfully awkward.
And that was before I proposed marriage.