“Hattie’s dad was a good person. Your dad wasn’t and that sucks.” Claudia paused. “I’m no good at this. I’m saying all the wrong things. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not. It really does suck.” Erica screwed the tissue into a tiny ball. “Mostly because Hattie’s dad and my dad are the same person. The same guy.”
There was a long silence.
“What? What are you saying?” Anna’s head spun. “Hattie’s father?”
“Yes, Hattie’s father. That caring, loving dad.” Erica took the whole packet of tissues from Anna’s hand. “He was also my father. My dad. The one who walked out when I was eight minutes old.”
TEN
Erica
Erica stood up and walked to the window. Hattie was right. The view was incredible, but she wouldn’t have cared if she was looking at a parking lot. The feelings churning around inside her were new to her. She wasn’t used to feeling confused. She wasn’t used to admitting weakness, and right now she felt both weak and vulnerable.
Seeing that photograph had felled her. She felt as if someone had taken a baseball bat to her heart. As if everything inside her was being squeezed. She didn’t know this feeling. It might have been panic, except Erica had never panicked in her life so it couldn’t possibly be that.
She felt as if the walls of the room were closing in on her.
She’d arrived here thinking that she’d be able to take it slow, observe, find out what she needed to find out and then make a measured decision based on the facts. She hadn’t expected to be plunged deep into emotions so visceral she’d been robbed of breath.
Her thoughts and feelings about her father had all been acquired secondhand,given to her by her mother.
Some men can’t handle responsibility.
You can’t trust a man to stick by you when times are tough.
Those were the answers she’d been given whenever she’d asked questions about her father. Her mother had placed all the blame squarely on him.
Some men aren’t built to be fathers.
But now she had evidence to the contrary. Maybe her father hadn’t been able to handle the responsibility of her, but he’d handled being a father to Hattie. Maybe some men didn’t stick around when times were tough, but her father had stuck around for Hattie. He’d stuck by her in the toughest of circumstances. He’d been a great father to Hattie.
So what did that mean?
Erica wrapped her arms around herself.
Had her father ever thought of her? In all those happy years with his second daughter, had he thought of his first? When he’d swung Hattie into his arms, had he ever felt a twinge of regret or guilt that he hadn’t ever put those same arms around Erica?
She leaned her burning forehead against the glass.
She was forty years old for goodness’ sake, and she’d been taking care of herself for as long as she could remember. Even as a child her mother had insisted she solve her own problems. There was no reason to be standing here with shaking legs, feeling as vulnerable as a child. Definitely no reason to cry. It was pathetic.
She felt embarrassed. She couldn’t understand why something so far in her past could cause such emotional havoc in her present.
It took a moment for her to register the silence behind her.
She turned to find both her friends staring at her stupidly.
They didn’t know what to say. She didn’t blame them. She didn’t know what to say, either.
She gave an awkward shrug. “This is a first, isn’t it? Me crying?”
Claudia spoke first. “I don’t understand.”
Erica shrugged. “I don’t understand, either. Apparently, I’m more emotional than I thought. It’s a disturbing discovery.”
“Not that part.” Claudia waved a hand. “I mean, I don’t understand how Hattie’s father can be your father.”
