Twisted Proposal

by M. V. Miles

  “Yeah, I can see you’re doing a wonderful job of that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I held my hand up. “Don’t answer that. I don’t care. Why don’t we cut to the chase? I’ve had a shitty night and don’t have patience for you right now. So what do I have to do to determine you’re not my father?”

  He stared at me for a few seconds before speaking. “I’ve already given blood and so once you give blood, we can get the ball rolling. Let’s just hope it doesn’t take a week for the results. I do have a job.”

  “Paternity testing can be done in as little as 48 hours. You should know that, being that you’re a lawyer and all.” I pointed to his phone. He glanced down and nodded. I wasn’t finished. “Look, Stuart, I’m sorry you came all this way, but just so you know, I’m not interested in having a father. I’ve gotten this far on my own without any help.”

  His face hardened. “I just wante—“

  “It doesn’t matter what you want! This is about what I want.” I slammed my hands on the table, sloshing coffee onto the fake-wood table top. This day couldn’t have gotten any worse. I grabbed some paper towels from the metal dispenser hanging on the wall and cleaned up my mess.

  Our eyes met after I returned to my chair, and I felt guilt rising in my stomach like a coiled snake ready to strike. Get a grip. Shifting my eyes to the dirty ceramic floor, I tried to relax. This couldn’t be easy for him either. The possibility of having another mouth to feed, that must be hard. “Look, I’m sorry. The only person I ever cared about was my mom, and now she’s dead. So why don’t you save yourself the trouble and go back to wherever you came from? Trust me when I say I can fend for myself.”

  He rested his elbows on the table. “I’m not allowed to do that until I know for sure you’re not my daughter. Now I’m sure the test results will pan out just fine, young lady. But just for the record, from where I’m sitting, you aren’t handling yourself as well as you think.” He pointed to his eye.

  “This,” I said touching the bruises on my face with my middle finger, “was out of my control.” I held the finger there just a second longer so he would get the message. My black eye was the result of mom’s junkie boyfriend, but I wasn’t going to waste my time trying to explain that to this tool.

  “As are most things at your age. So why don’t we just try to make the best of this situation? Now, moving on, I must admit that you do favor your mother, except…” He paused.

  “What? The eyes?”

  “No. I was going to say hair.”

  I rolled my eyes. Anyone could see that my hair was dyed black. Heck, I had about three inches of dirty blonde roots showing. Maybe he was colorblind.

  “Can I be expecting more of this bitchy attitude?” he asked, throwing me off for a second.

  He couldn’t talk to me like that. I wasn’t some snot nose kid. “Of course, you knew my mother.” Take that.

  He seemed surprised by my coldness.

  “This isn’t how I imagined things would unfold.” He shifted his eyes to the mirror.

  Who was back there? I glared over my shoulder at the glass and back at him. “Excuse me, but you couldn’t have possibly thought I would be happy to meet you? My mother just died yesterday. She was the only person who cared a rat’s ass about me, and that wasn’t guaranteed most days. So don’t sit there and stare at me like I’m the problem. I did nothing wrong.” I picked up my cup, drained it, and then crushed the cheap material in my hand. He didn’t say anything for a minute or so.

  “Again, I’m sincerely sorry to hear about Eve.”

  “I’m sure. We wouldn’t be here if you had resisted temptation in the first place,” I accused, avoiding his eyes. Mom had told me stories about her sister’s adventures with married men, and sometimes I wondered if she was making up stuff. I guess so.

  “So she told you.”

  “Don’t play stupid with me, Stuart. It’s pretty obvious what happened. You two had a fling and I happened to be the unfortunate result. It doesn’t take a scientist to figure that out.”

  “If I knew what I know now, I would have walked away.”

  “Yeah, well everyone says that.”

  “Yes, but that’s because it’s true. I can assure you, neither of us meant for this to happen. We were young and stupid, but I’m glad you understand.”

  Living with mom wasn’t the best of situations, but she never once made me feel like an inconvenience like this guy did. Anger rushed through my body like a steaming tea pot. “Shut up!” I exploded, standing, flinging my chair back.

  The metal collided with the cement floor with a loud crash, causing Stuart to jump to his feet.

  “I don’t need you to tell me I’m a mistake, don’t you think I know that. Now for the last time, will you please leave me alone?” Hot tears ran down my face.

  Instead of responding, he stood up and left. I shuddered. Good riddance. I didn’t want him around anyway. I tried to stop crying as I swiped up my cup and tossed it in the trash can. That was easy enough. Now what?

  ***

  Staring at the mom's closed hospital door, I tried to take a deep breath. How do you say goodbye? I could see her feet through the narrow side window, twitching under a thin white blanket, and I wanted to run down the hall and out of the hospital. “Get a hold of yourself, Addison,” I whispered as I grabbed the door handle.

  A numb feeling took over as I entered the walk-in closet-sized room. The walls were a putrid pink salmon color, and there was a painting of a vase of flowers that was faded and curling at the corners in its frame. The only bright thing in the room was the turquoise bed pan that sat on a gray chair next to the bed.

  My vibrant mom was gone, replaced by this drained, lifeless version. Her dark grey eyes watched as I approached. Her lips were dry and cracked. I moved the pan to the floor and slid into the chair, taking her hand, which was cold as ice.

  “Took you long enough,” she snapped.

  “Sorry.”

  This couldn’t be happening; she looked years older than thirty-eight.

  “I want…I talked to him,” she said. Her voice sounded raspy, strained.

  “Okay.” What was she talking about?

  “He doesn’t believe me. Doesn’t think you’re his. So I threatened him, and he agreed to come.”

  “Who are talking about? You’re not making any sense. Mom, please,” I pleaded, crying and leaning over the bed.

  “After he sees,” she continued, ignoring me.

  I hoped she wasn’t talking about one of her pimp guys she knew from the bar. “Mom, you have to listen to me, please. You’re not making any sense.” But she didn’t answer. She peered around the room like she couldn’t see anything.

  She sucked in a big breath of air. “I love you. ...you were the most…important thing...never let…him tell you…different.” She struggled to sit up. I tried to help her, aware of the heart monitor machine beeping.

  “I won’t. I promise, Mom, don’t leave me, please.” I kissed her forehead. She squeezed my hand so tight, I winced.

  “Go be...doctor. Follow your dreams." She paused. "Love. Love always." Her eyes were like large, tarnished quarters.

  “I will. I promise.” Her hand fell limp. The machine above her bed squealed, making me jump. I shook her, hoping she would say something or look at me. “Mom, Mom, I’m here. Wake up. Wake up, please! No! Don’t leave me.” She didn’t move.

  Strong arms pulled me out of the room, and a nurse stuck me in the arm with something sharp. Then everything faded away like a bad dream.

  Chapter Two

  Reality stung me like a slap in the face. Mom had been talking about Stuart. God, how could I have been so stupid.

  I wished I had a cigarette or even a bottle of cheap vodka to ease the gnawing pain in my head. Picking the chair up off the floor I sat down. After Mom's death, everything happened so fast. I didn’t take the time to make a plan. Wiping away tears that escaped my eyes, I chastised myself for running away to the
empty warehouse at the edge of town. The police always patrolled there. It was like I was begging to get caught. There were so many other places…

  I stood and began pacing. Maybe if I just played along, I could get out of here faster. It was worth a shot, so I took a deep breath and sat back down. “I’m ready to talk now,” I said, my voice bouncing off the cement walls. What if no one came back?

  Stuart walked in a few minutes later bearing two fresh cups of coffee. “There’s nothing I can do about the past. It’s water under the bridge. So why don’t we start with a clean slate?”

  When I looked directly at him, he avoided my gaze. This obviously wasn’t his idea. I frowned at the mirror, wishing I knew who was hiding back there. “Whatever. Fine.”

  He propped up his phone again facing him and looked at me. “You're so… different...”

  ”Gee, sorry to disappoint you.”

  “You’re not disappointing me, just different. If I had known you existed, I would have taken you. Everyone knew Eve wasn’t fit to raise a child.”

  I bet he didn’t even know her. “I think she did a decent job. I mean I’m alive, aren’t I?”

  “That’s not what I meant. Plus, she chose to lie to you about me.”

  “Look, it doesn’t matter anymore. She’s dead. So I won’t hold it against you if you just walk away and never look back.”

  “That's not going to happen. I’m here until we determine whether or not you’re my daughter. Now you can let me talk or not. I’m through arguing.”

  “Alright then, talk.”

  He rested his forearms on the table. “For starters, I never expected a one-night stand would lead to this.”

  I cocked my head to the side. From what Mom had told me, she never did anything as reckless as one-night stands. Relationships were her thing, even if they landed her with a black eye from time to time. I called his bluff. “Yeah, right.”

  He sighed and wiped his face. “Okay. It was more than that, I guess.” He focused his eyes on his coffee cup and cleared his throat. “Your aunt and I were close. Hell, I was even going to leave my wife for Elizabeth, but she was a heroin addict, and that always came first. She loved heroin more than she loved me. I had no choice but to end it. They looked so much alike, I suppose it’s possible that Eve pretended...”

  “No, no you’re getting them mixed up again. My mom was an addict. Her sister wasn’t.”

  “No, they both were. They got hooked when they were in Italy or something. I don’t know, but they sure loved that stuff. So I gave her an ultimatum, and when she chose the drugs, I went back to my wife.”

  Italy? Drugs. “But Mom told me--” I leaned back, dumbfounded.

  “She told you a lie. If my memory serves me correctly, she was full of them.”

  For the first time today, he was right. Why couldn’t she just tell me the truth? What did she expect me to do now? A sob caught in my throat, and I stopped it. I hated her.

  No, it wasn’t her fault. The drugs had fried what common sense she had left. Or did she know what she was doing all along? “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Mom worshipped Elizabeth.”

  “As I stated before, I’m not here to argue with you. For the record, I haven’t heard from your mother or aunt in years, but I do know it’s okay to grieve for someone you've lost. It’s normal.” His tone softened.

  For a moment, I wondered if he pitied me. I clenched my fist, trying to calm down. I didn't need his fake sympathy, and there was nothing normal about this entire situation. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “You're right we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. We don’t even know if you are my daughter.”

  I was tired of him making up excuses. “Are you blind? Is your ego so big that you can see what’s right in front of you? I have your eyes. Not to mention your stupid nose.”

  He picked up his buzzing cell phone, an annoyed expression darkening his face. “We know nothing for certain.”

  It was as if he was trying to convince himself. “Have you told your wife about me? Or did you just make up some lame excuse about how you had to catch the red eye to Illinois for business?”

  “That is none of your concern.”

  “Except it is. If we find out that I am your daughter, you’re going to have to take me home with you at some point. What are you going to say? That you found me on the streets?”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “And what’s stopping you?”

  He pulled out his black leather wallet and held up a family portrait. There he was with his perfect family sitting under a shade tree on a perfect sunny day. Posers. I dismissed the picture and met his eyes. “That proves nothing.”

  “Wrong, it proves I’m a family man. They are important to me, and if you’re my daughter, then I would treat you with the same respect.”

  I doubted that. “And if I’m not, what then? You walk away and pretend we never met?”

  “No, if you’re not my daughter, then I promise you I’ll make sure you’re properly taken care of before I go home.”

  “I bet.” I imagined a cold, dark cell in the basement of the youth detention center.

  He relaxed in his chair and forced a grin on his face. “How about I tell you a little about myself?”

  “I’d rather you not.”

  “Okay, let’s see, you already know I’m a lawyer. I bet you didn’t know that I’m married to a beautiful woman named Petra, and we have two children. My son’s named Zach. He’s thirteen, and my daughter is named Lexus. She's about the same age as you.”

  Doing the math, that meant he was cheating on his beautiful wife while she was pregnant. I thought about reminding him of that fact but didn’t. “You named your daughter after a car. How original,” I mumbled, looking at my uneven nails. He pretended not to notice.

  “For the most part, Lexus and Zach are typical teenagers; Lexus loves to shop and talk on the phone, and Zach’s more of a sports kind of kid.”

  “That’s nice, but why are you wasting your time telling me this? I don’t care.”

  He closed his wallet with a loud clap. “What is your deal? I’m trying to be civil here. You’re going to have to let go of this resentment if you ever expect this to work.”

  “Good thing I don’t.” I stared hard into his eyes. I wanted to make myself crystal clear.

  He sighed. “Why don’t you tell me something about you?”

  “Why? What’s the point?” He didn’t care about me; he just wanted to make sure he wasn’t my father.

  “Let’s start with something easy. Uh, what do you do for fun? Or what grade in school are you in? What’s your favorite book, movie, color? Stuff I don’t know.”

  “That would be everything.”

  “Come on, Addison, don’t make me guess.” He teased.

  I stared down at the table. “Fun is not how I’d describe anything in my life.” My life sucked. What more was there to know?

  “Elaborate. For instance, what do you do all day?”

  “I know what elaborate means. I went to school.” I wasn’t going to make this easy.

  “After school?”

  “On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I volunteered at nursing home, where I passed out food trays or water. On the days I didn’t do that, I studied or worked.”

  “You had a job.”

  “Yes.”

  “Where at?”

  “Local pizza place.”

  “What about the weekends? Where do you spend your time?” He picked up his cell phone and began tapping the screen.

  “Worked or studied. There’s not much time left for anything else.”

  His eyes glanced up from the screen. “That is certainly a lot for a sixteen-year-old. Do you like to read?”

  “I never had any time to read other than required texts for school. I can count the number of times I’ve gone to the movies on one hand, so I don’t have a favorite or anything like that.” It was obvious that he was just asking me the
questions. Whatever was on his phone screen was far more important, because he didn’t bother to even look up when I stopped talking.

  I cleared my throat, and he put his phone down.

  “What about school?”

  “Why are you doing this?” I demanded.

  That jarred him, and he put his phone away. “Because contrary to popular belief, I do care.”

  His left eye twitched. “Just to let you know, your left eye twitches when you lie.” I was so tired of him.

  “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m distracted.” He drained his glass. “Where do you attend high school?”

  Instead of responding right away, I stared intently at the two-way mirror and back at him. “Roosevelt High. I’m a senior.” This was pointless.

  “For real?” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table as a strange expression settled on his face, a look that said he thought I was a kid who liked to exaggerate.

  “Yes.”

  “You expect me to believe that you’re sixteen and a senior.”

  “I don’t expect you to believe anything, but do tell me why is that so hard to believe?” Did I look dumb or something?

  “Because my kids hate school.”

  “Good, that proves it then. I’m not one of your brats.”

  “Brats?” He held his hand up. “Whoa, I’m not having this conversation with you!”

  “But why not, Stuart.”

  “For the love of God, quit saying my name like that!” He started to say something else, but stopped himself and stormed out of the room, the metal door banging behind him.

  I scowled at the mirror. Why hadn't my counselor taken the time to introduce me to Stuart? Did these people honestly think this would be a good idea? This was all their fault.

  As if hearing my thoughts, Sandy, my social worker of three weeks, walked in and sat across from me with a disapproving frown. “Would it kill you to be nice? I mean he did drop everything and fly all the way out here to meet with you.”

  “I don’t owe him anything.” She had to be the worst social worker ever. I mean, who ambushed someone like that?