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“Worried about me? Huh, that’s a fucking joke if ever I heard one. She wasn’t worried when she was sleeping with another man, ruining our family, destroying us. She has no right to worry about me, or you for that matter. We are no longer her concern.”
“Jamie, that’s enough. I won’t have you bad mouthing your mother. Despite what she’s done, she is still your mother, and for that reason you will show her some respect,” Dad says, rubbing a hand over his face and looking…quite frankly, worn out.
“The fuck I will. She lost any respect I had for her when she spread her legs for some prick of a guy she met at work or wherever the hell it was. So, no. I won’t show her any respect. And I can’t believe you’re defending her.” The old couple on the table next to us turn their eyes on me, and the woman scowls. Most likely at my foul language, but I don’t give a fuck.
“Jamie Elizabeth Morgan that’s enough, right now. There are things between your mother and me that you don’t need to worry about, but our separation does not allow you to pick a side. There are no sides.”
“Using my full name, Dad. You know I’m not a child anymore, right? That shit may have worked then, but it sure as hell doesn’t now. You don’t want me picking sides? Fine, I won’t, but I’m still not going to talk to her.” He looks at me across the table, thumb under his chin, forefinger like a hook over his mouth, eyes narrowed and brow drawn into a frown. I think he’s going to reprimand me again, but he just sighs before picking the menu up.
The silence between us is like a chasm, vast and desolate, but I refuse to be the first one to break it.
The waitress comes over to take our food order, and it’s clear from her flustered demeanour and quick exit that the tension at our table is palpable.
Dad’s phone rings just as the waitress walks away, and he pulls it from his pocket checking the caller ID. His face drops even further, if that’s possible, before turning to me and telling me he needs to take this. I give him a chin nod, and he gets up from the table as he answers.
“What do you want? I’ve already told you...” His voice trails off as he walks further away from me. From his sharp tone, it’s clear whoever the caller is, is not a welcome one.
It’s not unusual for my dad to be the target of backlash given his job. Running a newspaper and one more than willing to print the stories no others will, means he often pisses people off. Just recently he printed a story on a high-class businessman who, allegedly, has been linked to corporate corruption. As a prominent figure, and the owner of a huge, countrywide chain of bars and clubs, it is exactly the kind of press he doesn’t want. And for that reason alone, it makes him the kind of news my dad likes to report on.
Dad is still on the phone when the food is delivered, and as the waitress places my plate down, Dad’s voice booms out from his position at the back of the restaurant making the waitress jump and almost tip my lunch in my lap. After muttering a billion apologies, she about turns and practically runs away. Guess I won’t be eating here again any time soon.
I look over at my dad, whilst his voice is now lower, his hands are a clear sign of his agitation with whomever is on the phone. Whoever they are, they’re certainly pissing him off. Well, more than I already did it seems.
Me and Dad have always had a good relationship, and although, we’ve had our arguments like any father and daughter, we’re still close. Since he and Mum separated things have been…strained, complicated, uneasy. I’m so mad at my mum. And Dad just doesn’t seem to care too much, which makes no sense whatsoever.
Dominic Morgan is a fierce man when it comes to the things he loves, be that people or his work. He’s protective and loyal to the very bone, so this version of my dad, looking tired and broken, is wrong. And for that—I blame my cheating bitch of a mother.
I’m picking at my food when Dad finally returns, but I have downed a second glass of wine, which is going down better than the food. I block out the warning screaming in my head that favouring alcohol over food is a road to disaster, and instead, I turn my attention back to my dad.
“Everything okay?”
“Everything is fine, Jamie.”
“Well, it didn’t look that way from here, and I’m pretty sure the waitress is never coming back after you shouted and scared her half to death but whatever.” Dad sighs, brow furrowed and hurries to change the subject.
“So, how’s work?” Dad asks again, as he cuts into his steak. I get the impression he’s visualising whoever pissed him off on the phone and is becoming more forceful with every cut.
“It’s okay, I guess. Same shit, different day, Dad. You know how it goes.”
“And what about…” He hesitates, waving his hand in the air as though looking for the right word. “Everything else?”
I scan his face, but he avoids looking at me and just continues to eat. “Everything is fine. But that’s not what you think, is it? So, do you want to tell me what this little lunch date is really about?”
He almost chokes on his mouthful, bringing his hand holding the fork to his mouth and covering a cough. Swallowing his mouthful, he looks across the table to me and shakes his head.
“Is a father not allowed to have lunch with his daughter without there being an ulterior motive?” He smiles at me, but I know my dad. I can read him like a damn book.
“No, Dad, he can’t. I get it, Mum called because I won’t talk to her. But what I don’t get is why you’re so surprised I won’t talk to her. She’s the one in the wrong, so why are you here bawling me out?” Dad screws his face up like he ate something sour.
“Jamie, we are just worried about you. You have to admit that just lately you’ve been a little—"
“A little what?” My anger at the insinuation rising. I drop my knife and fork onto my plate, and the clang of metal on china has a few more heads turning our way. Screw them all. “You know what, don’t answer that. I already know what you’re going to say, and honestly, I don’t give a shit. I’m a grown woman, and it’s my life to do with and live however the fuck I choose.” I get up from the table, snatching my bag from the floor before turning back to my dad. “I love you, Dad, but right now, I just need to be away from you and Mum ‘cause this —Yeah, I can’t deal with this shit.” I storm from the restaurant before my dad has a chance to stop me.
Outside I veer left and head, I don’t know where, just anywhere that’s not back there.
