"Fine," I said but continued to pout.
"It's down by the pier, so we can take a stroll down there."
We ambled along the promenade together a little closer than most friends would walk.
"I haven't been down here in a few years," I commented as I looked out onto the sands.
"No?" Luc asked, surprised. "You strike me as the type that would come down here to read."
"I used to do it a lot but then I started working and I just couldn't find the time or energy to do it."
"Maybe you should start coming back down here," Luc told me. We gently bumped against each other as we walked. "What did you do?"
"Sorry?"
"What was your job before you started living with me?" Luc asked me.
"Oh. I worked in a residential home," I answered with a shrug.
Luc was quiet for a few moments, "You looked after sick people?"
"Not qualified to do that. I was an admin assistant, but I did spend time with some of the residents. Sick or elderly or both. It was tough seeing people in that way, but I liked the fact I could help them by spending time with them," I explained. It had been a difficult but rewarding job.
I looked up at Luc but couldn't quite tell what he was thinking. Eventually, he said, "It's an honorable job, Mia. More so than mine."
It had been easy to live with the assumption that Luc was a cold-hearted bastard that took joy in making people miserable, but the truth was a little different. Luc was cold because he had to be. His job required him to keep a front or he would crumble under the pressure and guilt. His world required him to be ruthless so that he would maintain his respect. I wanted to say something, to reach out to him, but I was too worried that I’d mess things up between us and we’d be back to square one.
We reached the pier and Luc stopped us before we stepped onto it. "I'll be right here. Take all the time you need."
"What do you mean?" I asked, confused by what he had just said.
Luc pointed out to the end of the long, wooden walkway and I saw someone standing at the end. The figure turned to face us.
"Mia?"
"Dad?" I said, not believing my eyes. "Dad!"
I took off at a sprint towards Dad and almost knocked him over as I reached him and threw myself into a hug. Laughter turned into tears as I couldn't quite believe he was with me.
"My baby," Dad squeezed me tight and kissed the top of my head. "Happy birthday, Mia."
I kept hugging him not wanting to let go, but eventually, we broke apart. Dad wiped the tears from my face, and I looked at him, taking him in after three months apart. He looked just the same. No, he looked better. His eyes weren’t bloodshot, and I couldn’t smell alcohol on him. He looked tired but good and it lifted my heart.
"How are you, Dad?" I asked him.
"How am I? How am I?" Dad repeated. "How are you? Is he treating you well? Let me look at you." Dad held me at arm's length and checked me over.
"I'm fine, Dad. He's fine... he treats me really well," I told him.
Pulling Dad over to the edge of the pier, we both sat with our legs dangling over the edge. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into him. My Dad, my person, was with me and I felt whole.
"How are you?" I asked him again.
"I'm okay, Mia. I'm trying, baby. I promise you I'm trying to pay him back."
I hugged him again, unable to believe that he was sitting with me. "I know you are."
I had no doubt in my mind that Dad was doing everything he could.
