by Lauren Dodd
My waiter places a bison burger and baked potato down in front of me pulling his hand back just in time to avoid losing a finger. I scarf it down so fast I’m not quite sure I even tasted it. I leave a twenty dollar bill, more than enough to cover the bill and tip, and make my way back out into the concourse.
I spend the next few hours perusing gift shops and getting myself worked into a tizzy about seeing my dad. Part of me is afraid that I will shun him and act like a total bitch while the other part is afraid that I will run into his arms and beg for him to save me, but he doesn’t want either one of those girls for a daughter. He isn’t used to parenting so I need to be the perfect combination of respectful, interesting, and low-maintenance so that they are sad to say good-bye but they don’t suspect anything is going on at home so they let me leave.
****
By the time I get to baggage claim, my father is pacing the floor like a wildcat and looks to be terrorizing an airport worker. I must have lost track of time because I recognize my original flight number on the now-empty baggage carousel.
“Dad,” I call out.
He turns around, looking remarkably similar to the last time I saw him five years ago except for the addition of a few gray hairs in his neatly-trimmed beard.
“Cassidy?” he asks, rushing toward me. I clutch my carry-on to my chest to avoid an awkward hug. I try not to notice the shock on his face as he realizes that it really is me. I guess I could have given him a heads-up about all the changes I’ve made to my appearance since the last picture he saw.
“Sorry, my tummy was a little upset from the flight,” I lie without skipping a beat. I used to actually feel guilty about my lies but now they are just second nature.
“You’re so grown up,” he wonders, taking me in.
Five years will do that to an adolescent, I think.
“Where’s Lisa?” I ask, not because I particularly care, but I am hoping she will be a good buffer. Even on our best day, my dad and I have never been comfortable alone together.
“She wanted to give us some time alone. I thought maybe we could get some lunch before we go back to the house.”
There is no way I can handle alone time with him already. “That’s really nice, but I don’t trust my stomach,” I remind him.
“Of course, let’s get you home. Is this all you have for luggage?” he asks, taking in my one small bag while squeezing my arm. The gesture startles me and I jerk away slightly. He tries to hide his pain but I see it sear through him at record speed.
“I’m really glad to be here, Dad,” I say, trying to cushion the blow. Besides, it isn’t a total lie, I’m ecstatic to be away from my screwed up life in Missouri.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he says and I try to believe him. I won’t deny that I’ve got some resentment built up about him moving so far away from me, but I’m really going to try and hide it this summer. He leads the way out of the airport and out to his monstrous SUV that looks brand new. Chastity is always bitching about how little child support he pays, I bet she would be foaming at the mouth if she realized he was driving this. I consider snapping a picture with my cell phone and sending it to her just to get under her skin, but that would just give her an excuse to drag Dad back to court.
Dad stows my bag in the back while I climb into the passenger seat. He navigates us out of the airport and toward the suburb where he lives.
I’m always amazed at the amount of traffic out here. The four lanes of west bound traffic are filled even though it is mid-afternoon on a Tuesday. The cars weave in and out of lanes like a choreographed dance. It is so different from the two lane highways back home where the biggest traffic jam is usually caused by farm equipment.
“I guess I should have asked you to drive,” Dad comments, stealing a glance at me.
“No way,” I say, laughing. “I’d have this thing wrecked in a heartbeat.”
“Nah, you’ll get used to it,” he says confidently. “You can’t be stuck in the house all summer. Lisa and I work close together so we are going to carpool so that you can have this.”
“Are you serious?” I ask, amazed. Chastity never shares her car with me unless she has some mundane task that needs done and she doesn’t feel like doing it. Nobody is allowed to touch Phil’s truck. I can’t believe that I’m going to practically have my own car for the entire summer. “Wow, thanks, Dad.”
“I just want you to be happy here,” he says, zipping onto an off ramp.
I want to tell him that I’m not quite sure I can be happy anywhere but I don’t want to ruin his sweet gesture.
The last time I visited my dad he lived in a one bedroom condo. I was stuck sleeping on a pull out couch the entire visit. Not to mention being sequestered inside the entire time because he couldn’t take any time off and he was petrified of me being kidnapped. It was not a very eventful summer, although, in retrospect, he tried to make up for it on the weekends when he was off.
Dad glides through a treeless subdivision full of nice two-story houses that look remarkably similar. I will probably need to write his address on my hand every time I leave just to make sure I can find which house is his.
He slows down in front of a hand-painted mailbox, pulls it open, and hands me a wad of catalogs and envelopes. I can’t take my eyes off the curlicue painted name surrounded by brightly colored flowers. If Lisa is the one responsible for this mailbox then I can’t imagine a female more different from my mother. My mother’s idea of crafty is watching an HGTV marathon in between naps.
The house is a beige two-story with cranberry-colored shutters and matching front door. A wreath made of weathered baseballs hangs on the front door reminding me of Dad’s undying devotion to the Boston Red Sox.
Dad pushes a button on the console of the SUV that causes the garage door to slide open revealing an electric blue Prius. The irony of their two cars is almost enough to make me giggle out loud. They are going to take a clown car to work every day so that I can drive this fancy gas guzzler around. Sweet.
Dad pulls into the driveway and shuts off the engine. “Home sweet home,” he says, his voice filled with contentment. In that moment I realize that he is truly happy. He has everything he needs and I feel guilty that I’m probably going to breeze in and screw it up. I’m sure his perfect, environmentally-conscious, Martha Stewart-wannabee wife isn’t exactly thrilled to have his estranged child from an ancient hook-up invading her house for the summer. I’ll be lucky if I don’t get shipped back to Missouri in a week.
“I don’t know what’s been going on back home, Cassidy, but I have to admit I’m glad you’re here. And so is Lisa. I know you guys didn’t really get to know each other last time but she’s really hoping to change that this summer.”
My dad isn’t exactly one to discuss feelings and messy stuff like that so I’m a little shocked. I can’t think of anything to say and figure I need to at least give her a chance so I just smile and get out of the car. Dad busies himself getting my bag so I’m standing alone in the garage when the door flies open and a tiny woman with a mop of curly hair practically throws herself at me.
In the shiny reflection of the SUV, I see Dad rush around making a throat-slashing gesture. He must be warning Lisa to enter my personal space at her own risk. But this little sprite of a woman doesn’t set off so much as a blip on my radar screen as she traps me between her tiny doll-like arms.
“Cassidy, I’m so excited to meet you,” she gushes, hugging me tight. “We are going to have so much fun this summer.” I don’t go so far as to hug her back but I can’t hold back the smile I’m feeling anymore.
“Wait till you see your room,” she squeals, dragging me into the house.
“Lisa, she just landed. Less is more,” Dad says, following us. I can tell he is nervous but there is something about Lisa that has instantly put me at ease. Unless she suddenly sprouts a second head and starts beating me with wire hangers, I think it is going to be okay. I throw him a wink to let him know that her toddler-l
ike enthusiasm is a welcome relief from all the seriousness in my life.
“This is the living room,” Lisa announces, waving her hands around a large open room containing a leather pit, huge flat screen, built-in bookshelves with one side containing my dad’s Stephen King tomes and the other filled with romance novels. The mantel above a gas burning fireplace catches my eye. It is filled with frames containing my school pictures from kindergarten through fifth grade. He moved away the summer before I started sixth grade and Chastity refused to send him any school pictures after that. She said he never should have moved away if he wanted to see what I looked like. On the other end of the mantel is a photo taken of me and Dad in the mountains. It was the one and only time I came to visit him before now.
Lisa maneuvers me into the giant kitchen before I can get melancholy. She throws open a pantry to reveal every kind of junk food known to man. I don’t think even think Ethan tried to impress me on our first date as much as Lisa is obviously trying to.
I let her lead me up the stairs before her tiny frame explodes. She stands in front of a six panel wood door bouncing up and down like she might wet herself. I exchange a glance with my dad and we both start laughing. I’ve never met an adult who was so light-hearted. I have to admit it is a nice change of pace. I don’t care if this room is decorated in My Little Pony, I’m going to act thrilled.
“Close your eyes,” she demands.
I do as commanded and let her steer me blindly through the now open door. I ready myself to put on my most excited face.
“Okay, open them,” she whispers.
I open my eyes to the most beautiful bedroom on the planet. I can hardly take everything in. The walls are painted a deep shade of violet, my favorite color. The bed has a white leather headboard and the bed is covered with a gray and violet satin bedspread. A crystal chandelier hangs delicately over the bed. A distressed desk sits in the corner just waiting to hold my laptop. I see an ugly girl who looks like someone familiar staring back at me in the mirror of a beautiful glass-fronted vanity. Silver letters spelling out my name hang on the wall making it impossible to write this off as a guest room. Lisa created this room for me. I give it time for that realization to sink in.
Lisa seems to be holding her breath, waiting for me to say something. Dad just looks embarrassed for some reason.
After boxing up my emotions for the last eighteen months, I can almost feel something inside me snap. No one has ever done anything so nice for me in my entire life. I want to hug Lisa and tell her how much I love the room. I want to tell her that even my own mother doesn’t seem to know me as well as she does already. But I can’t, because this is all just a mirage that is going to disappear in four months. It goes against my plan of staying respectful and low-maintenance, but I can already tell after just five minutes in this house with Lisa that if I stay for four months, I’ll never want to leave. I don’t think my heart could take the disappointment of hearing my Dad say he didn’t want me to stay forever. So I take a page out of my mother’s playbook and use words as weapons to keep Lisa from getting too close to me.
“It isn’t as nice as my room back home, but it’ll do.”
****
I’ve got to give Lisa credit, she took it like a champ. Dad didn’t even seem surprised by my response which hurt worse than saying it. He probably figures I’m just like Chastity. I bet he is seriously regretting agreeing to house my delinquent ass this summer. I had no idea they had this perfect fairy tale thing going on. I don’t have to be here longer than five minutes to know that I’m not going to fit into their life plan.
The crap in my bag doesn’t make a dent in the space in my walk-in closet. I carefully prop my picture of Wade on the table next to the bed. I already miss that little guy. I run my fingers over the luxurious satin bedspread. I can hardly believe that I get to stay in this room all summer. It’s like being at a five star resort. My things at home are all nice, but nothing is my style. I used to think that Chastity just didn’t pay attention to the things I liked until I realized after the bedroom carpet debacle that she actually did it on purpose. I used to try and fight her until I realized I was just using up valuable energy that I need to save for more important things like keeping secrets.
My mother is the worst kind of monster. The kind looks sweet and cuddly on the outside but is full of rotting, slithering worms on the inside. I love her because I’m biologically programmed to, but I know the day she dies I’ll feel free for the first time in my entire life. I’m just hoping I outlive her so I get at least a few good years.
I carefully line up my makeup in my bathroom. My own bathroom. I love Wade to pieces but his aim isn’t so hot and I usually manage to sit in pee at least once a day. I can hardly wait to take long bubble baths in here. I pull back the shower curtain to see that Lisa has been kind enough to stock my bathroom with the best shampoos, conditioners, and body gels. I could get used to this kind of treatment but I’m smart enough not to.
****
Dinner was actually pleasant although I didn’t say more than two words. Lisa must have drilled Dad about my favorite foods because the table was a buffet of my favorite things from when I was twelve. Her cooking skills are just as good as her decorating skills. I forced myself not to pig out even though I wanted to. If I’m forced to eat Lisa’s food all summer I’m easily going to gain all my weight back. She proceeded to talk incessantly as I helped her clean up the kitchen and I nodded politely the whole time. I’m trying to keep my distance emotionally without being downright rude which has actually been a lot harder than I anticipated. Lisa seems really easy to talk to, which scares me, because I feel like she could get anything out of me without much effort.
Dad seemed to sense that I needed my space and promptly passed out in his leather recliner. When Lisa suggested a Downton Abbey marathon, I declined declaring that I was jet lagged. She wasn’t very good at hiding her disappointment and it made me feel like I pulled a kitten’s tail the way she sulked. I quickly disappeared to my room, thankful for the lock on my door.
I’ve been banging around up here trying to keep busy so that I’m not tempted to cyber-stalk Ethan to see if he replaced me yet, or to bother my little brother who probably doesn’t even realize I’m gone. I decide to test out that amazing bathtub when I hear voices coming from below me. I realize that they are floating up the vent from downstairs. Quickly, I get on my knees and press my ear against the slatted grate.
“She hates me,” Lisa whines, tears filling her voice.
“She doesn’t hate you. She just needs some time to get to know you. Heck, she needs time to get to know me,” Dad replies.
“She looks so different than her pictures.”
“I know. If she wouldn’t have called out to me at the airport, I never would have known it was her.”
“I feel like she was trying so hard not to say too much at dinner, like she was trying to hold back a dam of feelings but just refused to let her levee break. It’s like she’s in a self-imposed prison the way she has walls up,” Lisa says.
I have to catch myself from gasping because I feel like she just peeked inside my soul. I never thought I would be that transparent to someone who doesn’t even know me. I thought she would just assume I was an awful teenager going through a weird phase.
“You don’t know Chastity. She’s toxic. I barely made it out alive and I left my little girl there to fend for herself. I can’t believe she even wants anything to do with me. I’ve been a terrible father,” Dad confesses. “Thank God she’s had Phil. He seems like a stand-up guy.”
I can’t listen to anymore. I rush to the bathroom and start the water as hot as I can stand it then submerge myself. I know I should be devastated by my father’s admission but I feel better than I’ve ever felt. It’s the first time in my life that I’ve heard someone describe my mother in the way that I feel about her. I knew I wasn’t crazy but it feels really good to have that confirmed.
Everybody in my hometown thinks
that my mother is a great person. She volunteers at the library bake sale every spring, dotes on my brother, and would hand a complete stranger the shirt off her back if they needed it. But under her charitable top layer is a layer that festers with jealousy and hatred.
I remember the first time I felt it. I brought home my report card and was so excited because for the first time ever I’d gotten straight A’s. I thought she would be so proud of me but instead she made a comment about how easily everything came to me and looked at me with such hate in her eyes that it terrified me.
From that point on, I tried my hardest not to excel at anything. Just float under the radar so that I didn’t provoke her. Over the years I told myself that I was being crazy. How could a mother be jealous of her own daughter? But the cold look in her eyes would return at something as innocent as me not getting a cold that everyone else in the family had caught. That’s how I knew that I could never tell her about Phil. She would probably kill me.
Chapter Three
The next morning I hear the garage door open and peek out the side of my blinds to see the Prius back out of the driveway. I’ve been awake for over two hours, but I let them think I was just being a lazy teenager. I make my way downstairs to find a note next to a fifty dollar bill on the kitchen island telling me to help myself to anything in the house and giving me about ten phone numbers, apparently in case the world ends. Quite the switch from the times Chastity, Phil, and Wade would disappear for entire weekends without so much as a word.