Old Palmetto Drive, page 16
“Uh, nice to see you too,” I manage to reply right before he wraps his arms around me. I don’t get my own arms up in time for the hug and it’s awkward. I hate it. And I hate that he’s here right now. But, seriously, what is he doing here? “Is everything okay, Dad? Where’s Heather? Does Mom know you are here?” I step back and look over at Darcy. She nods and my heart relaxes for a split second.
“Yes, your Mom knows I’m here. And Heather is fine. I left her at our hotel in Miami.” He shits from foot to foot. “We had to fly back to the states to sell her condo and finalize some paperwork; there is a lot of paperwork when you make an international move.” He chuckles nervously. “Plus, I wanted to come see you in person.”
“Wait? Like you’re moving to Germany permanently?”
Is he serious? I thought he was going home to New York at the end of the summer. I thought he’d buy a new apartment with Heather, one with an extra bedroom for me. He is my back up plan! He’s supposed to be my safety net, you know just in case things here don’t work out. He’s… he’s… my Dad. How can he move to another country? A knot forms in my stomach and I rub it, as if that will help.
“Well, my office has decided to open a branch in Germany and they want me to head it up,” he says sheepishly.
“I see.” I whisper and slowly move my arms up and wrap over my chest, biting my lip to keep from crying.
“I– well, there’s something else too.” He looks around at Sam and Darcy, who are silently watching this entire scene unfold, from their spots in the overstuffed leather chairs. After what feels like forever, he looks back at me and reaches for my hands, but it’s really weird. I don’t reach out for him. I mean, come on Dad! Like I’m not some little girl anymore.
“What is it Dad? Spit it out. It can’t be that bad.” I use my best New York attitude. “I mean, you’re moving to Germany with Heather. What else could there be? Did you and Heather get married? Is that even legal? Is your divorce with Mom finalized?”
“Good guess.” He nods. “Actually, we are getting married next spring. But, what I really wanted to tell you, in person, is that we are having a baby. Two. Two babies. Twins.” More nervous laughter.
My jaw hits the floor. And I don’t say a damn thing.
So, Dad keeps going after he rubs his hand across his hair. “Heather is pregnant with twins. That’s why I accepted the permanent position in Germany. Heather’s grandparents live in Berlin and she wants the twins to have dual citizenship– so we bought a house.” He pauses to shrug. “We are going to raise them in Europe.” He finally stops talking when he sees my face. I’m trying my hardest not to let it twist up. But, what was that thing Dad always used to say to his asshole friends at dinner parties? Oh yeah, people with more than one child are a burden on society. Funny right?
“Wow, twins. That’s so exciting,” Darcy says, trying to lighten the mood. “Isn’t that exciting, Rian? You’ll be a big sister!”
“Twins run on our side too. Gramps had twin brothers, there’s an album with some old pictures somewhere,” Sam says and gets up and opens one of the cupboards in the back of the library.
I smile. I love Darcy and Sam right now. They are filling my silence with words. Letting me process this moment, giving me time to figure out how to react. I guess I could behave like a NYP. Maybe that’s why Dad came here in person, to see me blow up, just to hear my voice and see my lips move when I tell him how irresponsible and gross it is. He’s like in his fifties! I mean, sure Heather is thirty something. But still, will he even see these kids grow up? I mean, he sure wasn’t interested in me when I was growing up.
I open my mouth. Then I close it. I squeeze my eyes shut. I need to think, without Dad staring at me. I have two options. I can A) blow up and be exactly the girl my Dad raised me to be. Or B) I can be supportive of his new life, just like I always dreamed he would be of me, supportive and loving. Maybe this is his second chance. Like, look at Mom. Florida is her second chance. And me. This place is my second chance too, so what better way to prove it to him. I open my eyes and look at him with a genuine smile.
“I’m really happy for you, Dad,” I say softly and wrap my arms around him for a real hug. This time I’m ready and so is he. He embraces me, and I let myself take in his familiar smell. Something I’d forgotten and I kind of needed. He smells like soap and nutmeg. He chuckles and I can tell he’s not sure if I’m being serious. So I hug him harder and whisper, “You’re going to be a really good Dad, this time. Think of me as your practice run.” His shoulders relax and his grip around me tightens.
“Oh, Rian, thank you,” he practically sobs. Yeah, yeah, okay. I can only handle so much mushiness from my Dad. I loosen my grip and pull myself out of our super sweet, but also super long, hug.
“You wanna tour of the place? I mean, as long as you’re here. Mom’s in town with her business advisors at the fishing lure plant. Or, we could go have brunch, I know a place,” I say with a smile. Maybe it’s just me, but Dad suddenly looks a hell of a lot more like himself. Like a huge weight has been lifted and he’s comfortable in his own skin again.
“I’d like that Rian… Let’s go have brunch. Then I’ll have to get back to the hotel. Heather and I are flying up to New York tonight. We only landed in Miami yesterday so I could see you.”
Looking at him, and studying him, I know he’s not the same man who was my father growing up. The wrinkles that used to weigh down his forehead are gone and there is a light in his eyes. Spending time with this version of him doesn’t seem all that bad. He doesn’t seem hard and angry and bitter around the edges like he used to when we lived together in New York. And he hasn’t even looked at his phone once or said anything snarky or demeaning.
“Okay, let me grab my phone, then we can go. I’ll meet you by the car.” I look over at my cousin. “Sam, will you come with me upstairs? I need to talk to you before I go.” Why is he still digging in a cupboard for a long-lost family photo album?
He looks over his shoulder, then stands, “Sure thing, cous” he says, relieved to be leaving the library.
I shut the door after we walk out, leaving Darcy with my Dad.
“I think you’re taking this pretty well,” Sam says as we walk up the stairs.
“Yeah, I figured I could throw a temper tantrum like a baby. But, it’s his life, I should be supportive. I mean, I’m nearly seventeen.” I pause mid-step, my hand reaching for the banister, and think. “Oh wait, actually, today is my birthday.”
I start to laugh. I’d completely forgotten, and apparently, so has everyone else around here. I said something to Justine about it last week, and that was the last time I’d even thought about my birthday. The old Rian, the New York Princess Rian, she would have been planning a party for weeks. Months even!
But the new me, honestly it doesn’t even matter. I’m not mad that no one remembered, birthdays are overrated anyway, right? Okay, so maybe I’m a little hurt that Mom didn’t say happy birthday to me before she left this morning. Or that there wasn’t breakfast in bed. Or a new dress or something.
“Did you say today is your birthday? Oh man, cous, I’m so sorry I forgot. Happy Birthday,” Sam says quickly. But, there’s a twinkle in his eye and something in that southern drawl of his, something sneaky… I narrow my gaze on him and step closer. He backs up, nearly knocking the picture of Gramm Tweety off the wall. He looks up toward the ceiling and refuses to make further eye contact with me.
“What did you say?” I demand.
“What? Happy Birthday?” His voice goes up an octave. Yep. He’s definitely up to something.
“Sam,” I say. And poor Sam, he looks right and left, but there’s no one on this staircase who can save him. He laughs and rubs his hand through his hair. I notice a bead of sweat dripping down his brow. He’s totally caught. Hmmmm… I wonder what he’s planning? A surprise for me– of that I’m certain. But, I wonder what kind of surprise?
“Don’t you gotta get your phone? Your Dad’s waiting for that brunch you promised him. Better get going,” Sam says awkwardly and dodges away from me, running the rest of the way up the stairs to his room and slams the door shut.
I shake my head and smile. Sam is too easy to break. I hope whatever he’s planning involves Justine and some time away from the house. It’s been so crazy here, and now, this thing with my Dad. I think I might still be in shock. I run up the rest of the stairs and get my phone. No messages from my friends. But, that’s okay, it’s still pretty early. One thing about Ava, Maggie and Gina, those girls love to sleep in during summer vacation.
I practically skip out the front doors and hop into Dad’s rental car, thinking of the possibilities for whatever Sam was hiding.
“I’m pleasantly surprised to see how well you’re doing here,” Dad says to me as he cruises slowly down Old Palmetto Drive. He goes slow, not like Justine and definitely not like Travis.
“Yeah, me too actually. The first week was kind of rough, but I really like it here.” The words are authentic as they come out. Because I really mean it. I like it here.
“I always had my doubts about this place. I mean, what your Mom went through with Samantha. And god, that SOB Chuck. I mean, I don’t usually curse the dead. But that guy was the biggest piece of shit.” Dad shakes his head.
I wave happily at Robert as we pass the gate. He nods his head at me and Dad.
“So, you knew about Samantha?” I turn and ask dad.
“Of course I did. I was married to your mom for twenty years, Rian. There’s not much I didn’t know,” he gives me a sideways kind of look.
“Oh. It might have been nice for you and Mom to tell me about this part of her life.” I sink back into my seat.
“Which way are we going?” he asks when we get to the main turn.
“Turn left, it’s like thirty miles to a shitty looking strip mall with neon signs. There’s an old diner and they make the best bacon, eggs and pancakes on the planet.”
“Jesus, Rian. Thirty miles? They better be phenomenal pancakes,” he teases.
But, the miles go fast and he talks the entire time. He tells me about Germany and how I can come visit anytime I want. He describes the house they just bought with a big yard so he can build the twins a swingset when they get older. He says he’s sorry he fucked things up when I was a kid.
I nod and say things like, “That’s nice Dad” and “Wow, how exciting.” I’m trying my hardest not to fall back into my snotty privileged ways, meaning I’m not saying what I really feel, which is that Dad’s being kind of selfish– holding out all this Good Dad stuff for the twins.
As I keep listening, I realize in a roundabout way, he’s trying to ask for my forgiveness. Fortunately, before I have to answer his request, we reach the strip mall and the greasy diner where me and Justine ate breakfast. I point and he pulls in off the highway and parks in the same spot me and Justine parked in.
I reach for the handle to open the door.
“Rian, wait. I have something for you,” Dad says and leans into the back seat of his rental car. I didn’t even notice he had anything back there. He pulls a nicely wrapped present forward and holds it carefully.
“You remembered?”
“How could I forget your birthday? My princess is seventeen. You’ve really grown up and blossomed, Rian. A year ago, we hardly spoke. And if we did, you spent the entire time complaining about something trivial. Now, you are thoughtful and a great listener. I’m proud of you.” He smiles and hands me the gift. I look at him and stare and blink a few times. Then I shake my head.
“God, you sound just like Mom. She loves comparing me to a flower in bloom.”
Dad lets out a laugh. It’s warm and sincere.
“You’re both giving me a complex. I mean, was I really that bad back in New York? I mean, you both kind of spoiled me and gave me anything I wanted. So, if I had a bad attitude, I’m not the one to blame.” I point out the obvious.
“Yeah, I guess we did,” Dad scratches his head. “Never mind that. Go on, open it.” He grins as he looks from me to the present and back again to my face. I can tell he’s excited for me to see the present he brought.
I’m nervous. No matter what is inside this box, I have to tell him I love it. Which is something I’m not very good at. Normally I am the first one to tell my parents when they give me a shitty gift. But, this is the new me. I’m alive. Not food in the bottom of a gator belly. And I’m happy to be alive. Right?
So I slowly open the expertly wrapped gift box and take the lid off and pull back the tissue paper. It’s a picture of my future siblings bedroom with two designer cribs and some expensive one-of-a-kind mural by some fancy German artist on the wall behind them.
“Uh thanks,” I mumble. Is he trying to rub it in my face just a little harder that he’s left us and is starting a new life? I take a few quick breaths to calm myself down.
“Rian, I can tell you are confused. Just look at it. Really look at the painting,” he urges.
“I don’t see what the point is.” But for his sake, I look at the wall behind the cribs, searching the mural for an artist mark. It’s painted like a sketch, using charcoal in varying shades of gray, a good use of the light and dark. “Wait? Is that–” I pause.
It’s one of my sketches painted in the twins’ room.
From that day– the one in Central Park when me and Dad were there during a medieval festival. Seriously not our scene, but we walked around anyway, just for something to do. Dad took a call with someone from his work and left me sitting on a bench on the far side of the festival. There was a little girl, dressed in a princess costume chasing beams of light scattered between the maple trees. Thank god I had my sketch book, because it was such a beautiful moment, I felt like I was a thousand miles away in a fairytale. And even though I was upset Dad had left me there alone, I sketched the girl and the joy on her face and it made me happy.
Then after his phone call Dad came rushing back, “Rian, Rian!” he shouted for me. I remember the way I felt, looking up from my sketch pad, seeing him run toward me with two wands of fluffy pink cotton candy.
Later that night I finished my sketch. It wasn’t a nameless girl, it was me, and Dad was a knight in shining armor, swooping in to slay the dragon. I never sketch fantasy, you know, fairies and wizards. I am absolutely not into any of that.
But, that day, it was magical.
I can’t really explain it.
Looking at the framed photograph, and seeing my sketch painted in full scale, I almost can’t believe it’s something I created. The movement in the lines of the trees and the light catching the shapes and the emotion. I’m choked up by all of it. And Heather! What a bitch. I mean, in a totally good way. Like, I didn’t think she even liked me. But, I guess she likes me enough to hire some painter to put my art up on the wall of her babies’ room. My future brother or sister, or both.
“God, Dad!” I sob and look at him.
He’s crying too.
I lean over the middle console of the car and hug him. This is the best birthday present he could have given me. I mean, I thought he didn’t take me or my art seriously before this moment. But, now, he looks proud of me.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be mad that I took your sketch and let someone paint it on the wall,” he says when we finally let go.
“No I’m not mad! I think it’s really amazing.” I smile and sniffle and try to wipe my face. I’m sure I look like shit now, but I don’t care. It was worth it.
My stomach makes a grumble and we both laugh.
“Should we eat?” He asks.
“YESSSS! I’m starved!”
27
Proud of Who You Are
Dad and I hardly manage to eat we are so busy talking and catching up. He is impressed with my black coffee drinking skills. He says it’s very European. Which leads into a segway about me going to visit after the twins are born. Which, uh, yes! I tell him all about Cullier Manor House and what really happened the night Aunt Kris died with Justine and Travis.
“Man, I knew Chuck was a dirtbag, but to kill his own wife and try to kill Justine and Travis too. Those kids are lucky to be alive,” he says and shakes his head.
“Is that why you and mom never talked about Mom’s side of the family?” I ask.
“You know, it just sort of happened. We didn’t have some big plan to keep her past from you,” he says and takes a sip of his coffee. “After your Mom finished law school, and we’d decided to stay in New York, she just let that side of herself fall away. I think she was worried that her clients and partners at the law firm would hold it against her.”
I nod. I know New Yorkers.
We are kind of assholes.
“I’ll admit, it was just easier that way, to pretend Tori was a New Yorker through and through– and after a while it just became who we were.” He rests his elbows on the table, and steeples his fingers, rapping them against themselves. “I do seem to recall a few times I was probably harder on her than I should have been when her country side slipped out. And for that, Rian, I am sorry.”
I have to digest what he just said. It’s heavy. I swirl the butter on my pancakes with a knife, making circles, inside of circles, inside of circles, as I figure out what I want to say. Finally, I say the only thing I can say. “I forgive you, Dad. As long as you promise that from this day forward we are open and honest with each other. No more lies. No more secrets. I’m sick of them.”
He reaches a hand across the table, clasping my hand, stopping me from swirling anymore butter. “Rian, I never want there to be secrets between us. I know I’ve not been the best kind of Dad. But, I tried, the only way I knew how.” He chokes up. “You know, my parents died when I was young. I think that’s part of the connection I had with your Mom. We were both orphans in a way. And meeting in New York, the city, well it embraced us. It became the center of our world.”
“Yeah, Dad, I know.” I look him in the eyes. “New York was the center of my world too, until the day Mom drove me down Old Palmetto Drive,” I say it without being angry or bitter. I say it with hope and determination.
