My dad looks surprised. “You said you were leaving him. I didn’t realize it was final.”
I nod. “Oh. Hmm.” What is my response supposed to be?
“Was he bad to you?” My dad’s voice is gruff as he entertains the possibility that perhaps I suffered the same fate as my mother.
I stare at him until he begins to look uncomfortable, then I say, “No, Dad. Not in the way you’re referencing.”
He has the decency to look embarrassed. Allegra rubs his forearm in a soothing way that pisses me off, and he sends a tight smile in her direction. Maybe she does know about the abuse.
“Henry wasn’t good or bad,” I say, removing my silverware from its place inside the rolled up paper napkin. I place the napkin on my lap and set out the silverware. “He wasn’t the right man for me. I made a mistake when I married him, and the longer the marriage went on, the more apparent that became.” I don’t feel like airing our dirty laundry. Besides, there is no use telling my father that every day I woke up feeling like I was choking on my own fear. He would never understand such a feeling.
Quiet descends again, punctuated every few seconds by a child’s voice from Jagger’s iPad. I’m so grateful when the food arrives that I shove a steaming piece of orange chicken between my lips and scald the roof of my mouth. Oddly, the pain is almost worth it.
When dinner is over, my dad pays the check and tells me they’ll be staying in the city tonight instead of heading back to their home in Connecticut.
“We have a hotel,” he says, and Allegra smiles at him, her eyes shiny with excitement.
She looks at me and explains. “My sister lives in the city, and we’re having Thanksgiving dinner with them tomorrow.”
“That’s nice,” I respond, hoping my smile looks genuine.
Allegra’s eyes widen and she grabs for my arm. “You can come, of course. My sister would love to meet you.”
My arm is still in her grip, and even through all our layers, it feels wrong to be touched by her. Like I’m cheating on my mother. “Thank you for the invite, but I’m going to Pound Ridge with Aidan. His parents’ place,” I add when I see my father’s confusion.
We say goodbye, and I’m the first to turn around. I wait seven seconds, then peek back around. There they go, their backs to me, walking with Jagger between them. My dad holds hands with him and then grins down at something Jagger has said. I frown at the sight, and my orange chicken threatens a reappearance in the world.
They look so happy together, and I wonder if they truly are. Then I wonder why my mother, my sister, and I couldn’t make him that happy.
* * *
It would be really fuckingnice if my sister would stop being my sister for two seconds and agree to give me backup at my mom’s tomorrow. I’ve threatened, I’ve cajoled, I’ve even promised to find a guy to help her release steam for a night. It all got me nowhere.
“I disown you,” I announce to Sydney, cradling the phone between my shoulder and my ear so I can continue throwing things into a bag.
“Not possible,” she responds, crunching on a chip. “Tell me about seeing Dad.”
I sigh. I don’t really want to talk about seeing my father, but I know she’s curious. Due to proximity more than choice, I see him more often than she does.
I recount the story, word for word, and Sydney responds the way she should in all the right places. Until I get to the end, anyhow. She doesn’t care about them walking hand in hand, looking picture perfect.
“You have to get over that shit, Natalie. Dad moved on. Mom is basically a lunatic. I say you forget about seeing her tomorrow and just go to Aidan’s. He’s more family than they’ll ever be.”
“Yeah…” I say, my voice trailing off. If he’s family, then I pulled an incestuous move.
“What?” Dread colors Sydney’s question.
“It’s nothing.” I shake my head even though she can’t see me. “It’s just that I got really drunk last week and said something stupid and now things are weird between me and Aidan.” My gaze falls down to my nearly full bag. “It should make for a great drive tomorrow.”
“What did you say?”
Heat colors my cheeks at the thought of my words. I don’t really even care that I undressed in front of him. It’s not like I did a dance and peacocked around the bathroom before slipping into the tub. And besides, he turned around until I was safely underwater.
“I asked him why we’ve never gotten together.” I cringe, picturing his expression. His mouth had set in a grim line, and that confused me. I don’t know what my goal was in asking him that question, but it certainly wasn’t to upset him. He should’ve laughed. Rolled his eyes. Joked about my drunkenness. Why on earth did my question upset him?
Sydney lets out a low whistle. “What did he say?”
“He said ‘You know me, Nat. I’m not a commitment guy.’That was the end of it.”
