by Maya Rose
Because he already knows my answer. “No. I want to see him alone.”
He gives a tight nod and lets the woman lead me away from him.
When she ushers me inside, I force myself to look at the harrowing sight of my father. His thin frame, more bone than skin...he couldn’t even sit straight the whole time. He had to lean on the desk. How did I not see all of it earlier? You saw. You saw it, but you ignored it because all you cared about was what you wanted and how you felt.
“Leave.” His voice is a wisp, but it makes me start. Until I realize he’s talking to the other people in the room. Two nurses, one doctor.
“Mr Walton--” The doctor tries, but Warren shuts her off.
“I said I’m done, Sylvia.” He says to her with a tired finality. “With the needles and the pills. Just...please go tell Eli that I need to see Selena as soon as she can get here.”
Everyone but me leaves, and my heart stretches and winds up till I don’t think I can take it anymore. What does he mean he’s done? Did I push him so far down that he doesn’t want to get back up? I made him want to die?
Turning to me and breaking my trance, he flips his palm over at his side, and motions with his eyes to it. Just like that night at the party. Except that night, I felt nothing. But today, when I drop my hand into his and take a seat next to him on the bed, I feel the wrinkles, the callused skin, the steeped weakness as he tries to hold on firm, the warmth I never felt in mom’s touch.
“You think I’m difficult--you should have met my father. Goddamn hard-ass.” He tells me randomly, brown eyes soft with a glint. “He would have liked you though.”
“Warren, I--”
“Dad.” He stops me, and my blood stops mid-flow. “Call me dad.” He repeats.
“I don’t...I don’t think I have the right...” I manage out of my congested throat, my eyes threatening a downpour.
His lips shape in a faint smile. “Do you know that today was the first time in ten years I’ve seen Eli fight me for somebody, and somebody else fight me for him?” He muses, sounding...amused.
“What?” I whisper, not sure what to make of it.
“I gave him a life, Ariel. You seem to have brought him alive.” He lets out a long sigh. “He and you both have no one to count on. He never had anyone, and then I found out you don’t either. All I was hoping for, when I pushed you two to work together, was that neither of you are left alone after I’m gone.” Then a self-deprecating smile. “I guess I should have been careful what I wished for, huh?”
My father, my conscience screams. I met him a month ago, and I wasted all this time. And now...he’s talking of going?
“If you want me to live here, I’ll live here.” I promise him urgently, like my words are going to make all his ailments vanish.
His thumb strokes the back of my palm lightly. “My dear girl, I’ve made you dance to my whims enough.”
No, not enough, not nearly enough. I’ve got used to taking care of myself and running my life for so long that I didn’t even give the man a proper chance? All my life I waited for one adult...any adult...to care...to ground me once...just once...and now it’s too late? Please...please let it not be too late.
“You haven’t...I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...” I grab his hand hard, backhanding my cheek aimlessly with my other hand, annoyed at the wet sting my eyes couldn’t hold in.
“Ariel--now you listen to me, and you listen good.” He waits till my blurry gaze focuses on him. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one that keeps fucking up. Over and over.”
Terror strikes me. This isn’t a conversation. This is a goodbye. And I’m not ready for it. How did I do this? Squander my shot at getting to know him? When did I become this person who kept holding on to this hatred and blinding myself to what was right here for my taking? He offered me a father and I focused on the money?
I try to urgently refute what he’s saying. “You didn’t!! And I don’t hate you...I thought I did...but I don’t...not even a little bit...I don’t hate you...”
His composure stays, and I’m certain I’ve gambled everything meaningful away because I’m a stupid, resentful girl, when he softly asks, “You used to play volleyball?”
“I...” I feel a frown take over my forehead. “...yes.”
“Why did you stop?” He follows up.
“Got hit in the eye with a flying ball one time.” The memory flows out of my mouth. “After that, every time I saw the ball coming, I tried to duck instead of hit it back.”
“What was your favorite subject in school?” He keeps on his inquisition.
“Biology.” The answers come easier now. “I wanted to become a doctor.”
“And now?”
I shrug. “I have really cold hands and my bedside manner alone might kill patients...so I don’t know.” He chuckles and my spirit floats. “What was yours?” I ask him, imagining a little Warren sitting in a classroom and listening to the teacher.
“Believe it or not, Biology.” He informs me with a delighted gleam. “Although I wanted to grow up to be a marine biologist.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“My father…” He pauses. “...your grandfather…” He says pointedly, pausing again to let the word sink in, before continuing, “...wouldn’t let me. When I protested, he cut me a deal. If I spend a year learning how to run the hotel business, at the end of the year if I still want to go back to being a biologist, he would give me his blessing.”
“You never left.” I surmise.
He shook his head. “One month in, I knew I was exactly where I wanted to be. I loved it. Creating a space of comfort for people away from home. Watching families unwind and create memories in that space.”
“Is that what you want for me too?”
“I want what you want for you.”
“And if what I want is Eli?” I tentatively venture. Because my heart is only catching on now that he has to approve this. I can’t be with Eli without Warren’s blessing. Not with a free mind, and a free heart. Because Warren gave me Eli. So unless he can truly give me Eli--
“Then it is my job to make sure that you have him.”
That’s so cryptic. “What do you mean?” I ask him, fearful of any reply.
He replies in a soft but clear voice. “That I want you to be happy. I want you to have everything you deserve.”
Fresh tears roll down my eyes. “So...you’re...me and Eli...you’re okay with us?”
He gives a smile that’s not really one. Something’s off about it, although beats me what. “I want to give you something.” He says in lieu of answering. He glances at his desk. “In the upper right drawer, there’s a notebook. Can you go get it?”
I follow his instruction, and retrieve a notebook with a black colored cover that sits atop some folders. When I bring and offer it to him, he tells me, “Open it.”
The date on the first ruled page catches my eye. My birthdate. In fact, the exact one that I went to see him in his office. I raise my eyes at him. “Read it.” He guides me.
So I do. I read the entry below the date.
~I have a daughter. She has my eyes. Except prettier. I couldn’t focus on work all day today. Kept snapping at everyone. I’m not childless, I want to tell them. I’m a dad. I’m in the office long after everyone’s gone. Then I see, so is Eli. It’s his first day in the office, and he’s hunched over documents, reading from the desktop monitor, correcting mistakes I pointed out in his work in the morning. I’m a dad.~
The coincidence enthralls me. Eli started working at Walton hotels the day I came to see my father? Then I see what this is--a journal. Warren’s diary. He wrote about me in a journal. I pause to look at him again. “I always knew you were there, Ariel. Somewhere. But that day, when you came to see me, you made it real for me. So fucking real. And I’m so damn grateful that you did.” He takes a slow gulp. “Keep going.”
I dip my head to the entry from the next day.
~I wonder if she hates Physics like I did. Or if s
he plays pranks on her teachers the way I did. Eli closed the contract with the Goldsteins today. We have the land we wanted for the new property. I can’t believe how quickly Eli’s learning the ropes. How hard he works. I wish I could tell him about her.~
Then the next.
~Bring your kids to work day. Why does everybody get to do this but not me? Eli was moping. Scott probably refused to come. So I cheered Eli up with more work and buried myself in it too.~
I flip the pages, while my eyes desperately try to clear the mist away. There’s something he has penned every day. He was thinking of me. Every day. And my heart spasms at the way he uncannily connects me and Eli on paper. The last entry is from yesterday.
~Why didn’t they tell me? Either of them? How did I go so wrong with everything? With both of them? How do I make it right?~
The notebook falls out of my hands and I cover my face, because I don’t want him to see me sobbing. Which is dumb as anything, because he’s right there and of course he can freaking see and hear me sobbing. But how can I not? He never forgot me. And not despite Eli being around, but because of him.
“You were missed, Ariel.” His sound carries all through my snivels. “You were thought of. And my dear sweet girl, you were loved. I would have found a way to you even if Jenna hadn’t died. Don’t ever doubt that for a fucking second.” When I manage to finally stop weeping to look at him bleary-eyed, his own eyes glisten with unshed tears. “So.” It’s a quiet remark. “What does a miserable old man with a lot of money need to do, to be called dad around here?”
“Don’t...don’t leave me.” I beg him, my heart and head a blubbering mess. “Mom isn’t...she doesn’t…” Shit, what am I saying? “...please...please don’t leave me...I need you.” Then I whisper it aloud. What I’ve been saying and wishing in my head for years. “I need you, dad.”
“I’m right here, kiddo. I’m right here.” He says, and I slither up to rest my head on his chest. Hear his heart beat. Feel his breath breeze over my head. His arm comes around to hold me next to him. His voice strains to tell me about how he once started a fire in the teacher’s lounge. About his first heartbreak when he was thirteen. His only brother’s death in a surfing accident that drove him close to suicide. His first date that he utterly botched up, and ended in the girl slapping him. His favorite dish--mac and cheese--which I cook for him in the mammoth kitchen of that house, after the nurse comes in to tell him that Selena is outside waiting for him. Eli is around, mindful of every move I make, patiently in the shadows, not saying or asking anything. I hurt from not touching him. All I want is to touch him. Seek the strength he so easily contains and carries. But I can’t. It just seems...wrong. If I had known our being together would have hurt...dad...so much, I would…
I would have still done it. I don’t regret any of it, but where does this leave us now?
Selena gives me and Eli an odd glance when she steps out of Warren’s room. Warring, but also...pitying. She hesitates a moment before coming forward to engulf me in a delicate hug, rubbing my back as she holds me. I don’t have the mental capacity to care or worry or wonder what Warren told her.
When Warren asks for Eli, it’s late at night. They talk for hours. Until it’s my turn again.
I nod off at the side of his bed on a cushioned chair, while he’s telling me about his grunge phase in college.
When I wake up, he doesn’t.
◆◆◆
Eli arranges everything. The small service that Warren wanted for close friends...and family...only. There aren’t a ton, but none of the ones that come have a dry eye. Eli and I haven’t talked too much since everything happened. We haven’t even gone home. We've been living in Warren’s house for the past two days. Eli had our clothes and phones and stuff delivered. Is he having the same doubts I am? Is he arriving at the same conclusion I am? Warren didn’t want us together...not like that. He never answered when I asked him. So are we really going to be able to disrespect his wishes?
Two hours after the funeral, we are in Selena’s office, with Warren’s doctor and a man I don’t know. We’re all very formal. I’m actually carrying a purse, and Eli...he’s back in a formal 3-piece suit. Hair set. I’m breaking just looking at him, aching at how he looks exactly like he did that first night in my apartment. There’s no trace of my Eli I’ve come to know since then.
All for the reading of the will? Do we have to do this now? Evidently, we do.
“Warren changed his will entirely. And I need a decision from you before we can process it and proceed.” Selena tells me and Eli. Her serious face should scare me. If only I wasn’t this numb. Who cares what he left me, when he left me?
When neither me nor Eli say anything, she continues. “I’ll cut to the chase and give you guys the gist.” She clears her throat and turns some pages over in the giant stapled stack of papers she has on her desk in front of her. Then she looks up at Eli. “He left all of it to you, Eli. The hotels. His shares. His houses, cars, personal property...everything. It’s all yours.” She pauses. “If...” She pauses again, “...if you accept to not pursue any personal relationship with Ariel. Ever. Meaning you can’t date her, marry her...” She swallows, “...sleep with her, or be friends with her. No personal relationship of any nature.” She rakes a glance at me, her expression besieged by discomfort and empathy. She really likes me, I think in wonder. But she isn’t done. Shs turns to face Eli again. “If, on the other hand, you do want to pursue...or continue a relationship with Ariel, everything goes to Ariel.” She inhales and exhales audibly, before bringing it home. “But the decision is yours to make. Not Ariel’s. If you want her or everything else.”
I can’t believe Warren put him in this position. You did, the voice pops. Warren didn’t, you did this. You always ruin things, don’t you get it?
Selena keeps rattling something more. “If you choose to keep the hotels and everything, and if you ever break the no personal relationship clause, it all goes to Ariel. And Ariel cannot transfer any or all part of the business or properties to you. Same applies for transferring anything from you to her. The inheritance is non-transferable both ways.”
There’s really nothing more to listen to here. I don’t look at Eli. I don’t wait for his answer to come and cut me to pieces. I don’t blame him. He deserves everything and more, and I’m not the person people give up things for. I get up, hoping with all of my fractured heart, that what they say about time healing everything is true. Then I run out of there.
Chapter 21
Ariel
◆◆◆
I have nowhere to go. No one to go to.
Except the one person I’m tied to by default, but inviolably.
With any luck, she won’t recognize me today.
I don’t need any ID, I find out. My face has been plastered enough everywhere for them to know me now. Wonder how long that will last, after they find out that I own nothing anymore. Although Eli never let me read anything printed about me, guarding me, as always. Enough, I censure myself. What’s done is done.
Nancy helms me to mom’s room, with her perky steps and an even chipper attitude. When she opens it, mom sits calmly on the bed, leaning on the window, crocheting. She doesn’t look up when we enter.
“She crochets?” I whisper-ask Nancy, surprised.
“Dr Hughes likes to channel their day into positive productive activities to eliminate negative thoughts and energy. It’s actually been very helpful. We’ve not had any violent episodes since the last time you were here.” She sounds pleased.
I want to tell her not to get too excited, because I’m here to break the streak. Does she remember Eli carrying me out of here? “Can I talk to her for a few minutes alone?” I ask her.
She hesitates for only a second before relenting. “I’ll leave the door open. This red button here.” She shows me one near the door. “Just press it when you’re done or if you need me, and I’ll be here in less than a minute. I’ll be right next door in the nurse's room.”
When mom doesn’t look up even after Nancy exits, I walk up to her, and slowly take the simple plastic chair facing the front of the bed. “Mom?” I attempt.
She stops mid-hook, and lifts her gaze. Her hair is tied in a simple elastic band, that lets it drape over her back. She’s wearing an unembellished dress, yellow and bright, and her face doesn’t immediately register recognition.
“It’s me, Ariel.” I prompt.
“Oh.” She says with a curious frown. “How are you?”
Her face is a placid mask. Calmer though. I can’t tell if she remembers me or not. “I’m...good.” I answer awkwardly, before blurting out, “Warren died the night before last.”
Her lips part in a slow shock. Her eyes are on me, but disassociated. The confusion on her face is almost angry, as seconds pass us by. “Warren?” She eventually enunciates the name, one syllable at a time.
“Yes.”
“He’s...dead?”
“Yes.” I repeat.
“Did he go peacefully?”
I’m so stunned at the moving question, moisture springs to my eyes again. I blink it away. Did he? Despite the harsh argument before, he had a smile when he was talking to me that night. That had to count for something, right? “I think so.”
“He was a good man.” She nods, looking at the half-made garment and the ball of yarn in her hands. “I troubled him so much. He loved his wife. But that didn’t stop me from going after him. I took advantage of a silly fight they’d had. He was sad that night. And I...I just wanted him to look at me. Forget her for one night. Pretend he was mine.” She watches me again. “Then you came. And he...he hated me.”
There it comes. Years of instinct makes me pull back in the chair, my hands coming up to shield my chest and part of my face, preparing for any sudden moves from her.
But there are none that come. It’s all just flat, zestless acceptance that I see on her. “I wish you had known him.” Her voice is plaintive. Almost meditative. If I wasn’t sitting right here, I would never have matched her with that tone. But a lobotomy wouldn’t make me look away from her right now. “The way he laughed. Hearty and loud. You couldn’t help but join him. He couldn’t hurt a fly, that man. Always took care of everyone. Always fair. Always kind. Good heart. He has such a good, big heart.”