22. Mason #3
She glares at me as she fights back a smile.
“I don’t know, though,” she continues. “I just don’t really feel…
close to him. Like he’s been there my entire life, but I can’t tell you a single real conversation we’ve ever had.
Most of what I know about my dad comes from my mom telling me stories he’s told her, or ones she just knows about him.
He’s really quiet and passive, so we’ve never had any deep or impactful moments together as father and daughter.
I think I tell him I love him more than he tells me.
I’m also an only child, so maybe I just notice it more.
But I wish we were closer. I wish I could go to him for advice, or he cared to check in on how I was doing, or cared about who I was with and how they were treating me. ”
My heart hurts for her. I mean, get in line with the daddy issues, you know?
But still, I don’t like knowing she didn’t have a man showing her love growing up, showing her how she’s supposed to be treated.
I’m sure it’s a lot different for girls with their dads.
I don’t have any sisters, so I’ve never really seen how different a relationship with your dad affects a girl, but it’s gotta be tough, especially when I can tell in her tone that she wishes they had that kind of relationship.
I feel like every girl’s first love is their dad…but their first heartbreak shouldn’t be them too.
We shouldn’t be longing for our parents’ love like this. It’s not how it’s supposed to be.
“You’re an only child?” I ask, trying to keep her mind from the heavier stuff.
“Yeah, I always begged for siblings, specifically a little sister, but my mom couldn’t have any more kids. I always say my best friend, Lydia, is the sister I always wanted. What about you? Any siblings?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, smiling just thinking about them. “Twin half-brothers who are five.”
She stops what she’s doing and coos. “Oh my goodness, how cute.”
“They are cute…just like me,” I say, grinning.
“Yeah, yeah,” she says, waving me off. “You have enough girls around here boosting your head up, you don’t need me doing it.”
“I miss them, though. Especially since being away at college.” I don’t know why I’m telling her this. “I basically raised them since they were born; my dad and stepmom are always busy or traveling.”
“Aren’t you like…rich enough for Nannies?”
I let out a little laugh. “Yeah…but my dad said it would show me responsibility or some shit. He also loved them a lot more than he ever loved me, so he didn’t trust many people with them when they were little.
He was always paranoid for anyone else to watch them.
I think he just wanted to find another way to break me down, though, and keep me from having a life.
Kinda backfired, though. I love them like they’re mine, and now I hate being away from them, especially knowing they don’t get the attention they need when I’m not there. ”
“Does your mom have any kind of relationship with them?” she asks, and it’s so innocent, I can’t be mad at it.
It does hurt to think about all that she’s missed out on since she’s been gone, though, but I tuck those feelings away right now.
“Um, no. She passed away when I was thirteen, and my dad remarried quickly after. She never got to meet them.”
I take a second to picture my mom with Asher and Easton. She’d absolutely adore them if she were here. It makes me smile a little imagining that sight.
Simone’s face falls. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”
“It’s okay,” I tell her, trying to keep it upbeat. “The fun rich boy comes from a fucked up broken family.” I shrug. “At least it gave me a good personality.”
She studies me for a moment. “You joke… but I really am sorry. Your life sounds—”
“Sad?” I interrupt. “Pathetic? Lame?”
“No,” she says quickly. “You are none of those things. I was going to say…hard, and a lot to deal with. You would never know. You hide it well.”
I huff out a laugh. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Keep the dark parts hidden so everyone else stays comfortable?”
She shakes her head. “No…not from the people who care about you.”
“Yeah, I don’t really have many of those.”
There’s a long stretch of silence between us as she watches me. “Well, you have me…we’re friends.”
“Normally, my ‘friends’ don’t take on the caring role. Or I don’t typically let them.”
I look down to tie off another bag when I feel her hand under my chin, tipping it back up. “Then I will,” she says softly.
I just stare into her deep brown eyes. They’re angelic. She’s angelic.
I don’t know where this girl came from, but I want to keep her around. She makes me feel like I don’t have to hide anything. There’s no hidden agenda with her, no trying to get with me, no trying to use me, just…genuine friendship.
I clear my throat as she walks back over to an open bag, throwing more trash in it.
“Enough of the sappy shit,” I tell her, shaking off the feelings, “bring back my feisty, fiery, loves to talk back Simone.”
“I can be both,” she says, smiling.
We finish tying off the last of the trash, and I carry it out to the big bins on the side of the house. When I walk back in, the place actually looks decent. Still a frat house. But presentable.
All the Gamma girls are starting to pack up their stuff and head out.
When I see Simone going to grab her bag, I stop her. “Hey. You got somewhere to be right now?”
She shakes her head. “Nope, I was just about to head back to an empty dorm. Both my roomies are busy today.”
I nod my head to the newly cleaned sofa. “Wanna hang out for a little? Do something more fun than cleaning up after drunk college kids?”
“What do I get out of it?”
“I’ll buy you lunch and be good company.”
She pretends to weigh her options for a moment and then smiles. “Sure, why not?”