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“Are you okay?” I ask, glancing over at her. The car service dropped us off and the driver is busy carrying our bags into the house. Adalee and I are both perfectly capable of carrying our own luggage into the house, but we both know that my dad would never go for that.
O’Conner’s know when to dictate a job.
That’s what my dad would say.
In order to avoid a lecture or a fight, we’ve both chosen to just let the driver carry our stuff inside, although it’s almost too painful to watch. He’s old and arthritic, and our bags are heavy, but Adalee and I both stand perfectly still and stare at the house. We both pretend not to notice how much the guy is struggling.
“No,” she says.
“Are you ready to talk about it?”
“No.”
“He’s not going to be happy to see us,” I offer.
“I know.”
I sigh and run my hand through my hair. Well, shit. This is going even worse than I thought it would. So not only is Adalee not happy to be here, and not only is she hiding something from me, but she knows how much of an ass my dad can be.
She gets it.
Finally, Adalee has enough of the driver trying to carry her heavy duffel up to the front porch, and she hurries up beside him.
“Let me get that,” she says.
The driver pales.
“I can get it,” he says.
“Forget it,” Adalee tells him. I see her shove something into his hand – a wad of cash, undoubtedly – and she gestures for him to leave. “Get out of here,” she says. She’s not being unkind. She’s trying to get him to leave before my dad comes out and asks why we’re hauling our own shit.
If he catches Adalee helping out the driver, my dad will do anything in his power to get that guy fired.
It’s pretty shitty, to be honest.
That’s the kind of guy he is, though.
Terrible.
The driver seems to know what’s up, and he nods, murmurs something to her, and leaves. Adalee scurries up the porch and drops her bag there. The driver hurriedly gets in the car and just as he’s pulling away, my father appears in the front doorway. Is it just me, or does Adalee’s entire body tense when she sees him?
Since when did she feel afraid of my father?
Oh, I know she doesn’t like him. I’ve never really understood exactly why. He gives her anything she wants. She goes to a great school, and she lives here for free. He’s basically given her a dream life without any strings attached, but something tells me there’s more going on than I know about.
My father does not wave or say hello. Instead, he stands on the porch near the luggage and stares at us. He looks down at Adalee, who is on the top step of the porch. I’m standing farther away, but even I can see the look of contempt he gives her.
What the hell is that all about?
Seriously, what’s with the anger?
The animosity?
“Adalee,” he finally says.
“Hello, Mr. O’Conner,” she says.
Not Frank.
