I wanted to ask if he meant being a parent, but I decided to save the truly grilling questions until Adleigh arrived.
We ordered drinks. He insisted on paying. So I went all out with my favorite special milk and cold foam and all the accoutrements. He got a hot black coffee—no cream.
He picked a table near the front window so we could keep an eye out for Adleigh, then we entered into a game of who could ask the other person the most inane questions. He wanted to know all about my work and living situation. He asked naive questions about boys. I asked about his work. And his move to Durham, his commute to Raleigh. And tried to figure out if he’d ever remarried or had other kids.
His answers were ambiguous at best, deflecting at worst. Which probably meant yes. Who knew how many Chris Kelly children there were out in the world. All abandoned. All forgotten.
Adleigh arrived in a swirl of hombre silk. Her maxi dress was cute and flirty. She stepped into Dad’s open embrace like they’d always been close. “Hey, Dad,” she said, and it sounded so natural. I felt sick to my stomach.
He hugged her in a comfortable sort of way, like he’d been hugging her for all twenty-two of her years. “Hey, baby girl.”
Baby girl?I blinked at his tender greeting, the nickname he’d always used for me. I ground my teeth together and tried not to say something that would make her—or him—cry.
She squealed as she plopped down into the seat across from me. “Yay for finally all being together.”
Chris and I smiled blandly at her.
“There’s so much I wanted to say to y’all over the years,” he started to say. “So many memories I wanted to make with you.” He did that thing where he laughed at himself again. “I used to pretend to write you letters. You know, I’d have the whole thing written out before I got off work.” Another self-deprecating laugh. “But I’d forget it all by morning, I s’pose.”
“Why didn’t you write a real letter?” I asked because I couldn’t freaking help myself.
“Excuse me?” His tone sounded way more insulted than I gave him credit for. I hadn't expected him to care enough to be defensive.
“Ada,” Adleigh hissed.
I smiled at my dad. He did a double take. “I’m just kidding.”
He did another double take. “I get it.”
“Do you?” I highly doubted that.
Chris wisely took the high road. If he hadn’t, if he’d tried to justify not once trying to write to his daughters, I probably would have walked out. Adleigh wanted a family reunion, but I wouldn’t tolerate a liar.
“Did you ever remarry?” I asked, shifting back to him.
“Me?” That same humble laugh. “Nah. That’s the one lesson I learned fast. I’m not a marrying kind of man. Tried to work up to it a couple of times. But couldn’t quite pull the trigger after your ma.”
His tone was gentle, but I didn’t like how he brought my mom up. Maybe she had traumatized him as much as his departure had traumatized us... or maybe he was nudging all the blame on her, so we’d hate him a little less.
You’re paranoid, Ada. Calm down.
“So did you have any other kids? Or just us?”
“I have a son. He’s about to be a senior in high school. His name is Briggs.”
“We have a half brother?” Adleigh gasped.
I took a shaky sip of my drink. I hadn’t put that together. I’d asked about his kids thinking they were his.Hisnew family inhisnew life. And, if I were honest, I’d wanted to know if he had abandoned them too. If he’d run as fast as he could away from them too. Or was it just us he couldn’t handle? But Adleigh was right. He was our half brother.
“Huh,” Chris grunted. “Well, I guess he would be. Nice kid. Plays football in Oklahoma. Has a couple of schools already looking at him for college.”
“Do you have a picture?” I asked, needing to put a face to the name. Briggs Kelly. A high school senior who plays football.
It had taken a random newspaper article for Chris to track Adleigh down, but with a few taps of his fingers, he knew exactly what his son was doing with his life. Did Briggs know he had two sisters in North Carolina? Had he ever heard our names before? Had he ever heard us talked about before?
I wondered about Briggs. About his life with Chris. The bitter part of my heart wanted to hate my half brother because it seemed he had more access to his dad than we had ever had. But Chris was here. In North Carolina. During Briggs’s senior year of football in which he was apparently going to be scouted for college ball. Maybe they were closer than Adleigh and I had the chance to be. But Chris had still left him too.
Chris pulled out his phone and opened a social media app. He turned the phone around and showed us one of Briggs’s senior pictures, probably just taken. A fluttering of emotions brushed through me. He looked like Adleigh. Light-brown hair, tan skin, a dimple on the left side of his cheek.
