“OK! Did you get cereal?” she screams from her room.
“In the cupboard,” I answer.
“Thanks!” she says, and I hear her door open. Her head peeks around the corner.
“You working till close?” she asks. I nod. I suddenly feel guilty. Our mom is always busy, and Val and I haven’t hung out much lately. We used to be two peas in a pod, but with school and work, I haven’t had time, and she’s the same way.
“Oh, well, maybe we can catch up on one of our shows this weekend?” she suggests, and I can hear the hope in her voice. It sounds like how a sucker punch to the face should feel.
“Yeah, for sure,” I agree, giving her a lopsided smile. She grins back at me and gives me a little wave before popping back into her bedroom. I always forget that she’s sacrificing too. She works part-time at the campus bookstore and is living at home this year to save money. While her friends are planning nights out at bars, she’s here, watching shows on her computer and trying to catch up on her class work. I’m proud of her. I really need to tell her that.
With a final glance over my shoulder, I open the door and head out to catch the bus. I watch the city as it flies by from my window seat. I’m listening to a book for class, but my attention is on the people walking along the sidewalks. I love living in the city, always have. It’s comforting. Someone’s always around; there’s always something to do; and you’re never alone with your thoughts. It’s the perfect distraction.
I start to turn in my seat to organize my bag before I pull the cord to get off at the next stop, when suddenly, I swear I see my father again. A man who bears a striking resemblance to my dad opens a door for a woman and then follows her into a building. I crane my head to get a better look, but a crowd of people waiting in line for a street vendor selling hot dogs blocks my view.
I lean back in my seat. It’s official, I’m losing my mind. Yanking the cord for the bus to stop, I gather my things and head down the aisle. When the bus driver pulls up to the corner, I get off and walk the short block to the bookshop.
I force myself not to continually look back in the direction of the man I just saw. I hate myself for hoping to see my father. If he wanted to see me or Val, he’d have done it. Instead, we got a birthday card and a call once a year, and a few visits when we were in elementary school with a final one when I was in eighth grade. Then, he was too busy to have us visit. He started calling even less. And finally, we stopped talking altogether. He didn’t even send a graduation card to me for high school or college. And now, I don’t even know where he lives.
I asked him about his family the last time we spoke, and he deflected the question. I thought about getting one of those DNA tests so I could look for more family members, but our mom questioned the companies doing it, so we didn’t. Some days, I feel like half a person, like there’s a whole other part of me that I know nothing about. What did my grandparents look like? Do I have cousins? Mom says Dad said his parents were dead and he had no siblings, but for reasons that seem silly, I don’t believe that. Maybe it’s the mystery of it? Or maybe it’s because I spent my teen years trying to figure out who I was, with only knowing half the equation? Either way, I don’t trust that what Dad said was true. How can I trust a man who was never around to raise us?
I open the store door in a foul mood. Clare looks up from behind the front desk and frowns.
“Going to get us coffee!” she yells and gets out of a chair, setting down a book that she was clearly reading.
“Usual?” she asks as she breezes past me. I love Clare, but I also hate how chipper she can be.
“Yeah,” I huff as I take my heavy shoulder bag and plop it behind the desk. “Clare?”
She turns back to me. “Stop being so chipper,” I grumble.
“Right. Way to live up to our grumpy-sunshine friendship. I’ll be back with the elixir of life so you can perk up to your normal charming self,” she says in a singsong voice as she leaves and walks across the street to Cam’s Café.
“You coming to happy hour tonight?” Roxy asks.
“Yeah,” I mutter as I put my phone on the desk and start checking the store’s email and social media accounts.
Roxy’s head appears between books on a shelf. “Seriously, what’s up your ass today?”
Sighing, I push myself back from the computer and look at her.
“I’m just stressed about my paper,” I admit, because it’s not a lie, and the truth about seeing a man that looks like my father, who I haven’t seen since I was a child, seems much too crazy to state out loud. Memories of asking my father if we could come visit when we were in high school percolate in the recesses of my mind. He always ended up having an excuse and promising to come see us instead, which never happened. Part of me still hopes he may come see Val graduate.
“It’ll be fine. We can brainstorm tonight. And besides, you can always do that old standby about your mom and then end it with working here at the bookstore,” Roxy says, batting her eyelashes at me.
It’s hard to stay mad at the woman when she’s so fucking annoyingly hilarious.
“I guess,” I say as I watch Clare across the street. She’s setting all our cups in a carrier as Cam waves her hands excitedly. I haven’t gotten a chance to catch up with Cam since she and her new boyfriend got back from visiting our friend Drew and his boyfriend in Italy.
I’d love a vacation. It’s been literal years since I took one. I go back to our social media, and Clare sets my mocha latte on the table for me.
“Cheer up. At least you don’t have Professor Newcomb. I have my third test of the semester tonight,” she says with a frown.
“Shit. We’ve only been back in classes for a few days,” I say, feeling like we were just on winter break yesterday.
“Exactly. He likes to start nearly every class with a pop quiz, which isn’t such a pop when it’s every class. I swear my anxiety is reaching new levels,” she laments as she circles a table in the front of the store and adjusts some merchandise.
I decide after finishing my coffee that I need to adjust my attitude. That and the idea of seeing if Hutch made progress on the great flower mystery has me looking forward to happy hour.
