“Just get to the point,” I exclaimed, losing patience.
Dad took a deep breath. Held it in. Exhaled. “I asked your mother to give up her dream of becoming a concert violinist.”
What?All these years, I’d never understood why Mom stopped performing when she’d been so close to making it. Everything she’d ever wanted was right there; all she had to do was reach out and take it. Instead, she walked away.
But maybe that decision wasn’t as much of a choice as I thought.
“Explain,” I demanded.
“Did your mother ever tell you the only reason we decided to get married was because she got pregnant with Violet?”
“Yeah,” I said, my shoulders stiffening, “I knew that.” Well…sort of. When Mom told the story, she always made Dad’s proposal sound like a grand, romantic gesture.
“The problem was neither of us were making enough money to cover the cost of childcare,” he continued. “This was before your grandma moved to the LA area, so we didn’t have anyone to help us. Our only option was for someone to stay home. At the time, I’d just been hired as a teller at the bank. Didn’t earn much, but my paycheck was steady in comparison to your mother’s.”
To a stranger, this logic would seem reasonable. Responsible even. But anyone who knew my mom would understand how utterlysenseless it was. Josephine and performing went hand in hand, like thunder and lightning or sand and shore.
Bile burned at the back of my throat. “How could you?”
“It was so long ago, sweetie. We were young and still getting to know each other. If I’d known back then what performing meant to her, I never would have asked her to quit.”
My dad’s confession was a lot to take in.
Looking away from him, I clutched my pendant and stared out the window. The moon was high, illuminating the dark waters of the Pacific, and as I mulled over this new information, I watched waves break against the beach. While I was willing to admit that my dad’s story was a contributing factor in my parents’ split, I had a hard time believing it was the sole reason.
“Indie?” Dad prompted.
I turned back to him and crossed my arms. “You guys seemed fine before Violet—”
“I know you think your sister’s career is to blame for all this,” he said, speaking over me, “and that me becoming her manager somehow ruined my relationship with your mom, but our marriage was on the rocks long before that. And by the time I realized how unhappy she was? It was too late.” I frowned, still not convinced, so Dad added, “None of this means we don’t love you, Indie. We’ll always be thankful that you and Violet came into our lives.”
For a moment, I let his words wash over me, but they didn’t soothe my anger.
They fed it.
Dad could say he loved me all he wanted, but when was the last time he’d actually acted like a father?
“You know what, Dad?” I asked. Rage swept through me like fire chasing gasoline. “That’s pretty damn hard to believe coming from you.”
“Indie,” Dad exclaimed, recoiling from me as if my words were a physical blow. “How can you say something like that?”
“You say Violet’s career hasn’t affected our lives, but when was the last time you spent any time with me? Or had a conversation with me that wasn’t interrupted by a business call? You’re always busy working on stuff for her, but I’m your daughter too. And when I try to talk to you about it, you brush me off. I feel like my existence is just a huge inconvenience to you.”
His throat bobbed as he stared at me. “Oh, sweetie, I hate that you feel that way. I wish I’d known.”
“But you did know, Dad. We’ve had this conversation before. In October when you bailed on the horror marathon at Cinépolis, when we arrived at theImmortal Nightspremiere,” I said, counting the examples off on my fingers. “But trying to get you to listen to me is like talking to an empty room—it doesn’t matter if I’m shouting at the top of my lungs, because there’s no one there to hear me.” I paused for a moment, then added, “Subconscious or not, you’ve chosen work over me every single time.”
Dad sank his fingers into his graying hair. He looked gutted. “Indie,” he said, his voice cracking. “I never meant—” He broke off, too overcome to finish his sentence.
“Do you know how lonely it’s been for me? Mom’s gone, everysecond of Violet’s life is scheduled, and I’m lucky if you bother to have a five-minute conversation with me. All I want is to spend time with you. Is that really too much to ask?”
When Dad finally looked up at me, there was a watery glisten to his eyes. “I’m so unbelievably sorry, Indie. You and your sister have always been so independent. I never realized you needed anything from me.”
“I do need you,” I replied, my own eyes watering. “And not just when I’ve been missing for nine hours.”
Reaching across the table, Dad took my hand in his. “Kiddo, I promise I’ll cut back on my hours and make an effort to be more present. Things are going to change around here for the better, okay?” He gave my fingers a sight squeeze. “I never want you to feel like this again.”
“Okay,” I said squeezing back. I wasn’t sure I believed him, but maybe this time would be different. There was, after all, a first time for everything.
