I kind of don’t want to but of course I should. Even if he’s not a great dad, I doubt he’s also a serial killer on top of all else.
I step inside and look around curiously. It’s a very normal house, shoes piled up in the entry. Men’s and women’s. No children’s shoes. But why would my dad have little kids at this age even if he had kids? I don’t know, honestly I know nothing.
There aren’t any family photos or anything in the entryway, just a table topped with mail and keys and other normal life things. A woven rug that runs along the narrow entry, and stairs that lead to the second floor. Some coats and jackets hang on a row of pegs nearby. It smells like food and coffee.
“Um, did I interrupt your breakfast?” I ask as I take off my sneakers.
He shakes his head, watching my every movement with wonder. “No, we just finished up.” It’s almost eight a.m. and I note that maybe I’ve caught him on the way to work. But I don’t mention it because he doesn’t, either.
“Do you…Is your family here?” I ask, way too tentative for my liking.
Sadness flashes through his eyes. “I—uh, I’m married but have no children. Didn’t Sunny tell you?”
I shake my head. “No. I didn’t have time.”
“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice gentle.
Suddenly, I feel like I might pass out. “Uh, could I possibly sit and have a glass of water, please?”
“Oh man, of course,” he says, slapping his forehead. I can instantly imagine him as the former skater kid who grew up in the Valley. “Here, take a seat.” He leads me to the living room, which has a large picture window with green curtains, lush indoor plants cluttered onto tables by the window, and a series of black-and-white landscape photographs hung around the walls.
I take a seat on a cozy sectional, placed opposite a large TV over a fireplace. There’s a basket full of knitting next to a leather armchair with a dog in it. It’s a beagle that looks about a hundred years old and is snoozing like it’s been drugged. “Your dog doesn’t seem to mind I’m here,” I say without thinking.
“Oh, she’s gone completely deaf,” he says with fondness. Then he hovers for a second. “Well, let me go get you some water, okay? Be right back.”
He rushes off and I hear voices. A woman. They must be in the kitchen because I can also hear some dishes being washed. Before I can take stock of everything in the living room, he’s back, holding a tray with a glass of water and two mugs—one with tea and the other coffee. There’s also a carton of half-and-half and a jar of sugar. “I wasn’t sure what you would be in the mood for,” he says nervously as he places the tray on the coffee table in front of me.
“Thanks,” I say as I reach for the water first.
“Rachel, my wife, is home but I told her to give us a little space. That’s the only reason why she’s not coming in to say hello,” he says as he picks up the dog and sits in the armchair, keeping it in his arms. “But of course, you can, ah, meet her if you’d like.”
I nod, unable to make any kind of decision about that yet. “What’s your dog’s name?” I ask instead.
“Walnut,” he says, giving her a scratch behind the ears. “Old girl’s been around sixteen years now.”
Matthew talks with a mix of California and Midwest accents that I find amusing. “She’s very sweet.”
“She’s very senile,” he says with a grin. Then there’s silence because we’ve talked about the dog as much as we possibly can.
I put my glass down. “I’m here because Sunny told me about you being Mom’s fated.”
His hand stills on Walnut. “She what?”
My body starts to feel hot again. “Sunny told me that you were Mom’s fated. Because I didn’t know.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, slowly and carefully. “All this time…Who did you think I was?”
“I knew you were my dad,” I say, agitated. “Obviously. But my grandparents and Emoni and Sunny…they told me you weren’t Mom’s fated. That you left because you weren’t meant to be.”
Matthew has stopped petting Walnut and she gets annoyed and hops off his lap in a loud huff. She waddles out of the room indignantly. He stares at me. “They told you that?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh my god,” he mutters under his breath, sitting back. “That is so…that’s so like them.”
Instantly, I am defensive. “You don’t know them.”
The sharpness of my voice sends his eyes flying over to mine, and he looks regretful. “I don’t mean to insult them. But, Cassia, there’s so much I don’t think you know.”
