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"But-" Sarah started but I stopped her before she could continue.
"Sarah," I said, smiling at her. "I'm fine. I'm just going to talk to my father. It's no big deal."
Sarah frowned. "But I know how upset he can make you," she protested.
"I swear I won't let myself get upset. He doesn't have the power to upset me anymore because I just don't care," I lied. "I'll be back."
"Okay," Sarah relented. "But if you're not back in half an hour, I'm coming up."
I really was lucky to ha
ve someone like Sarah in my life. I never stopped feeling grateful for having a friend like her. "Deal."
"Hey guys," I said, standing up and studiously avoiding looking in Simon's direction. "I totally forgot to make a phone call. I'm just going to run up to the apartment. I'll be back."
In my peripheral, I saw Simon break away from Samantha and suddenly he was in front of me. "Just use my cell phone," Simon said, standing closer to me than I would have liked. "You can go into one of the bedrooms if you need privacy."
I tilted my head up to look at him. Even though Marcus had an inch on him, Simon really was tall. "The number is in my cell phone that I left at home. That's the problem with cell phones. No one knows anyone's number anymore," I said, trying to joke. I walked quickly to the front door. "I'll be right back."
"Hurry back!" exclaimed Jenny as I opened the door.
I turned around and gave a quick smile. "I will." Sarah was frowning at me and Simon's expression was inscrutable as I closed the door behind me.
**********
When I got back to my apartment, I quickly plugged my phone into the charger by my bed, waiting for my phone to light up, signaling that it could be used. When it lit up, I scrolled to my voicemails and saw I had three new voicemails from my father. I deleted them all, knowing that there was no use listening to them, and quickly hit his name on the contact list. The phone started ringing and I tensely waited for him to pick up.
"Caitlin," he said, with no greeting. "I've been trying to call you all day. Where have you been?"
"Sorry Dad," I apologized. "My phone died at work and I forgot to charge it when I got back home."
My father sighed heavily. "Caitlin. How hard is it to keep track of your phone and not let the battery die? How are you going to accomplish anything in life when you can't even manage the simplest tasks?"
I bit my lip, starting to feel anger welling up but trying to keep it at bay. It was always a test of patience talking to my dad. I knew there was no use in getting angry. That just gave him more ammunition. But it was really hard to bite my tongue, and sometimes I lost the battle. I loved my father on some level, and that was the only reason why I continued to try and maintain a relationship with him, as dysfunctional as it was. I had no other family besides him. My mother's parents had passed away before I was born, and the rest of her side of the family was in Korea. I had never had contact with any of them. My father was completely estranged from his family, although he had never told me why, so I didn't know any of them either.
"Did you need something, Dad?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.
My father sighed again. "I got a notice in the mail for the next payment on your tuition. Since when am I responsible for that?"
I cursed the university billing department's ineptitude. I had already told them several times to only send the bills to my apartment, but every so often they would send a duplicate copy to my father, which got him riled up. I guessed they were used to parents helping with a student's tuition. But not my father. He had made it clear that he wasn't paying any portion of my tuition because my diploma from a nothing school like Maxwell University didn't mean anything. Never mind that the bill was nominal since my scholarship covered almost my entire tuition. My school loan plus the money I made at Colette's was enough to cover the balance, as well as pay for my books, rent and other living expenses.
"You can just ignore that, Dad," I said. "You know they just send you the bill sometimes by accident. I get a copy too so you can just throw yours out."
"I don't understand why you can't handle letting your school know not to send me the bills," my father lectured sternly. "Or maybe it's because your school is run by morons. It reflects poorly on the reputation of Maxwell."
"So you can just throw it out," I repeated, not wanting to be drawn into a conversation about the merits of Maxwell University. I tried to avoid confrontations with my father but it warred with the need to defend myself.
"Caitlin," my father sighed. "I really want to understand you. I really do. I'm trying to accept that maybe you just don't have the necessary drive and ambition to become a real success. God knows you take after your mother more than me. She couldn't do anything without me. She was totally dependent. It seems like you're just like her."
I felt pricks of tears at the back of my eyes at the mention of my mother. I didn't remember her at all since she had died when I was so young, and I only had a few pictures to document that I actually had a mother. This was a weak point for me. It hurt me deeply that I couldn't remember her at all. Although I had been young, I felt like I should be able to remember something since I was five when she died, not an infant. I kept silent as my father continued.
"Maybe it would have been better if you didn't go to college," my father said. He was starting to really get into his diatribe and settle in. Our phone conversations usually consisted of my father talking while I was silent. "It's a waste of money at this point. I would say that you should find a man to take care of you, but just take a look at yourself. You take no care in your appearance and always seem so drab." My father sighed heavily as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. "I just don't know what to do with you. If only I had a son. Everything would have been so different."
I couldn't take it anymore. "Dad," I said, straining to keep my voice void of any emotion so that he wouldn't pick up on any weakness. "Just ignore the bill and throw it out. I'll take care of it. Now I really have to go."
"To do what?" he scoffed. "To go get drunk with Sarah? Is that what you do up there?"
I could feel the tears starting to fill my eyes and I needed to get off the phone before they started to spill. A mixture of anger and hurt was making my chest tight. "I just have some reading to get done. I'll talk to you later, Dad."
