Chapter 9
Did that really happen?
Felicity sat down heavily on the sofa that night and tucked her legs underneath her, gripping her mug of oat milk coffee as if her life depended on it.
James was working late so Felicity had tried to practise a bit of that “self-care” everyone had started going on about these days, even though they apparently just meant things like washing your face and eating food, which Felicity was pretty sure were just the basics of everyday living.
Surely it didn’t warrant an entire industry to tell us how to do it.
She had her favourite flannel pyjamas on, her only matching pair in fact.
They were pretty old and threadbare and it was a miracle she’d even managed to find the top and bottom on the same day.
Yet they were cosy and soft and they smelt of her favourite tropical fabric softener.
In other words, they were unbelievably comforting in that moment, and she stared at the tartan pattern and tried to get her thoughts in some kind of order.
But there was one thing she just kept coming back to.
I sent him away. Without even a second thought. What kind of person am I?
Hot tears pricked at her eyes again.
Just like that, she’d sent him packing. Her own father.
Never mind that he’d arrived out of the blue and nearly given her a heart attack.
Never mind that he’d apparently never cared until now.
He still didn’t deserve that. Or did he?
She was filled with irrational pity for the man.
Perhaps she was his only hope in the world.
Perhaps he was destitute or homeless. Maybe he’d been made redundant or split up with his partner or wife or husband or whatever. She hadn’t even bothered to find out.
Felicity tried to picture Harry’s face in her mind from when she was young, but it was strangely pixelated, like an old 8-bit computer game.
The only image she had seemed to be a kind of hybrid of the dad she remembered from all those years ago and the one who had been standing in front of her this morning.
Her past and her present clashing with a dissonance that left her feeling strange and uncomfortable.
Both dads were strangers. Past Dad and Present Dad.
She didn’t know either of them. She didn’t know if she wanted to.
Perhaps, she thought, things turning dark and bitter suddenly, it was the opposite.
Perhaps he’d just be relieved now that he’d finally given it a go.
Maybe he was heading back to a completely perfect and fulfilled life, feeling like he could tick a box on his bucket list or something.
He’d reached out to his only daughter after thirty years and she’d sent him away.
Now he had an excuse never to revisit that part of his life again.
In a way, in that very act of rejection, she’d empowered him to continue being the most useless dad on the planet. For that is what he was.
Maybe I should have made it harder for him.
She’d made it too easy. She hadn’t thrown something at his head or slapped his face or beaten her fists on his chest or screamed at him that he was a Giant Abandoner or any of the things she’d always pictured doing if her long-lost father ever crossed her path.
She’d actually been relatively civil, in fact, which was surprising for many reasons, and she hadn’t even asked him any questions about himself so not only was her stomach tied up in knots but her mind was buzzing with a zillion questions.
Which, in some ways, was the same as it had been every day since she could remember.
Now she just had new questions too. Where did he live?
Who with? Why had he sought her out now of all times and what did he want?
That was it then. She had to somehow find a way to forget this day had ever happened.
She could go back to just pretending her father had died along with her mother and that she was an orphan.
That’s how she’d always thought of herself, in truth.
An orphan heart, is that what they call it when you don’t trust a soul? The description certainly fitted.
But now, all of a sudden, this orphan had a parent who was very much alive and well and seemed to want to get to know her. Felicity had no idea what she was meant to do with that.