He was somewhat breathless, and I still hadn’t let my eyes look over the paperwork yet. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I mentally didn’t want to accept anything he was saying. So I ignored it. “Did you still want that coffee? To go or for here?”
His gaze finally came back up and met mine, his eyes somehow comforting in this shit show I called life—which was bizarre and seemed to be my M.O. lately. Comfort from strangers whom I shouldn’t even be talking to.
Maybe I needed a therapist. Aspen had said hers was amazing. I could text her and ask for the lady’s number. Couldn’t hurt. This would definitely be increasing my already apparent daddy issues.
“Ember…did you—did you hear what I said?” His gaze was now fully locked with mine, and I could see him looking over the entirety of my face. I was curious what he saw there. Was it desperation? I felt desperate right now. I felt as if I were holding on by a single thread, ready to snap at any moment.
“Yup. I heard you loud and clear. So, coffee?”
His brows drew together, and he slowly nodded, the confusion clear. “Yeah, just uh, to go is fine, and I’ll leave the file here. You can go over it when you’re ready and let me know what you want to do. Will that work?” I found myself nodding as I fixed his coffee before handing it over to him. “How much do I owe you?”
I closed the folder without bothering to bat an eye at its contents. “Nothing. Consider it on the house for the next five years for doing this for me.” I held the folder up and forced a fake smile across my face.
He stared at me for a brief moment before nodding. “Okay, well let me know if you have any questions or need any help reading through the information.”
I nodded. “Yeah, absolutely. Have a great day, Carragan.”
“You too, Brady.”
I watched as he took his coffee and banana nut muffins and walked out into the Colorado sunshine. I wanted to scream, throw the stupid folder, or kick the wall. I didn’t even know. But I did know that I didn’t have time for any of that. I looked down at the pale manila folder in my hands and forced myself to gently place it on the desk in my back office before I walked out and started on another batch of muffins.
I staredacross the table at Mom and contemplated how I wanted to ask.
“What do you want, Ember?” she asked, her tone already grumpy. Great.
“So, there’s this dance coming up at school…it’s only for the eighth graders to celebrate finishing middle school…” I trailed off, nerves getting the best of me for a moment as she stared blankly.
“Okay? So what? Do you need a dress or something? Ticket money?”
“Well, yeah, I do. But it isn’t…” I sighed heavily. Just say it, Ember. “It’s a father-daughter dance...or mother-son, but I’m a daughter, so father…” I trailed off, forcing my lips to shut and cease making words.
She stared again before openly rolling her eyes. “When is it? I’m sure your father will have to work, but you can ask him.”
I nodded and handed her the paper with the date on it and the ticket information, excusing myself to my room. A few hours later, he came home, and I thought about going out to see him, saying hi, asking how his day was, but I could hear Evan and Elliot out there already talking about their baseball practice, and I didn’t want to be a bother.
He needed to be in a good mood for this to work, for him to want to take me to the dance like all the other girls.
I laid across my bed, my dark purple comforter wrapped around me, the clock ticking far past my bedtime as I listened to Mom finally ask him if he would take me.
“Ember has a father-daughter dance in a few weeks. She wants you to go with her,” she said. Her voice was so soft when she spoke to him. As if the conversation between them was something to be treasured and not dreaded. So unlike the voice she used when she spoke to me.
“I have to work.”
“You didn’t even look at the date, Bennett.”
Silence hit for a few seconds, and I thought they were just speaking too quietly for me to hear, but no. He finally spoke up, and I wished he hadn’t. I wished I had gone to bed when I was supposed to.
The next morning, when Mom said he had to work, I pretended I didn’t know the truth. That I hadn’t heard what he’d told my mother.
I told myself it didn’t matter that my father said he didn’t like spending time with me because he’d never wanted a daughter anyway, let alone one as needy as I was.
It didn’t bother me because I didn’t need him anyway.
14
OLD FILM REEL
Wyatt
