“Bitchy.”
I rolled my eyes and took a sip of my mimosa. “He can abandon his family, come back twenty years later, and be some kind of hero? But I question some of his terrible life choices, and I’m the bitch?”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Ada. Even you.”
I took a deep breath and tried to find inner peace or some shit. “I’m happy to go to coffee with him, Ad.” She raised an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe not happy to go. But I’m willing to go. That’s all I can do right now.”
She settled into her bubbly self once more. “You know, you’re going to hold this grudge for like five minutes before you realize how sincere he is. Then you’re going to be embarrassed by your attitude.”
I should have taken this opportunity to settle back into our harmonious morning and move on. But... “This isn’t a grudge. The man fucked up our entire life. And I absolutely refuse to feel bad for standard feelings of abandonment and trauma.”
Her face paled. “That’s not what I meant, Ada. I was just—”
“I know. I know you didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, I really am being a bitch. I just... I’m trying. It’s hard, though.”
“It’s easier once you meet him, I think. Or at least it will get easier.” She shot a sideways glance my way. “Okay, it was easier for me. Once we’d connected in real life, navigating the other... stuff was easier.”
I pulled out my phone, deciding now was as good a time as ever. “What should I say?” His text message stared at me, daring me to mess this up. Dad. It was such a blatant insult. What I really wanted to text back was,Who gave you the right to call yourself dad?
Or something more eloquent likethe fucking audacity.
But because I loved my sister and, no matter how much I wanted to deny it, there was some deep, buried need to make amends with the person who was at least half responsible for creating me, I decided to put a pin in those two responses and go with something more civil.
Me:Hey, Chris. Been a while.
“You’re too cold,” Adleigh criticized as she watched me type over my shoulder.
“I haven’t spoken to the man in more than twenty years. I’m not going to call him Dad. It’s ridiculous. Also I’m almost thirty. I usually call Mom Jane.”
“You do not,” she argued. “And last time we were in Florida, I heard you say Mommy.”
I rolled my eyes. “Not mommy like a little kid. Mami, like you’re so sexy, Mami.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please don’t call our mother sexy.”
I reached up and pinched the soft flesh of her unflexed triceps and twisted hard enough I knew she’d have a bruise. Without missing a beat, she brought her hand down and smacked me upside the head. “Ow!”
“Ow!” I yelled back.
My phone dinged and we stopped fighting to read the text from Chris/Dad. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.
Chris:Can’t tell you how much I regret how long it’s been, Buttercup. I don’t suppose you have time to grab a bite to eat with your old dad? I’d love to see you. If you’ll let me.
I didn’t know what made me hesitate, a gut feeling or something, but it almost felt like he was weaponizing my empathy. “If you’ll let me.”Gross.I understood he was trying to give me space to decide, but it felt very much like he was accusing me of gatekeeping my own time from him.How would Adleigh cope if I throat-punched him?
I threw my phone on the next cushion and let out a frustrated groan. “I can’t do this. It’s too hard. I’m too bitter.”
Adleigh picked up my phone and handed it back to me. “You can do this, sis. Pull your big girl panties on and be a fucking grown-up.”
“This from the baby grown-up?”
“You’re such an asshole when you’re deflecting.”
“You’re an asshole for making me do this.”
She smacked the back of my head again. “Stop stalling.”
Me:I think I can do that. How does Sunday afternoon sound?
