The last few weeks, I’d seen differences and similarities and realized that Bea was right, they picked up the slack in the areas the other one lacked.
“I wanted to check in because I’ve been working remotely. I may stay here for another few weeks until after Christmas.”
“Oh!” I said, pausing mid-stir.
“Will you be okay with me gone that long?”
I thought about that. I’d been without Harper before, a week here and there, but this was already extended. Still, she had a life and a family.
“Of course, I’m fine. You have a great time and enjoy your family.”
“Call if you need anything.”
“Thanks.”
We hung up and I grabbed a bag of chips and set it next to the dip. That was my contribution to tonight. A night I was a little nervous about, actually.
I checked the mirror one more time, my sweater and jeans still in place. Make-up was good. Now, I just waited. Cal would be here any minute and yet, I stared at my phone and did the one thing I shouldn’t.
I dialed my dad.
After seeing him before Thanksgiving, he’d been plaguing my thoughts more. It was sick, but I wondered how he was. If he was okay. He’d made it clear for me to stay away. For whatever reason, I wanted to hear his voice. Because the one moment we had, where he’d acknowledged there was a life before Anita, before Brock, pinged my chest and it wouldn’t subside.
When I got his voicemail for the hundredth time in months, it was no surprise, yet the sting of realizing he didn’t want to talk to me hurt.
But for the first time in a long time, I left a message.
“Hey, Dad. I just wanted to say…lots of things, actually. But mostly that you’re my dad.” I shrugged as if he could see me. Because it was that simple. It hurt, it didn’t make sense, and I was so angry with him. Didn’t trust him. He didn’t want me. And yet, “You’re my dad.” I whispered and glanced down. “Okay, bye.”
Probably the world’s worst voicemail, but it was better than nothing. Because, despite the past, I was insane when it came to my father. I’d keep trying to reach him for the rest of my life. Knowing he wouldn’t reach back. There was no logical reason for it other than he was my father.
A knock came at the door and I opened it to find Cal looking amazing, as usual. He was in his standard blue fire T-shirt and matching pants. The casual uniform.
“It’s cold out, you know,” I said.
“I told you, I run hot, and we’re just walking across the street.” I grabbed the dip. “Aw, Kitten, you cooked.”
“I stirred. It’s chips and dip.”
“The guys will love it.”
The firemen, apparently, had a group dinner every night at around six. And tonight, I was invited.
“You look nervous?”
“I am!”
He smiled. “Don’t be. We have guests all the time, and the guys have already met you.”
Yeah, but Rhett and I had an unspoken secret of sorts when he caught me at the station leaving Cal’s room. I didn’t want to turn into the department joke. And having Cal’s friends and crew like me was very important.
“This is a regular thing we do. Just dinner and bullshit. Don’t let them rile you, and you’ll be fine.”
Somehow, that didn’t help at all. “Don’t let them rile me?”
Cal shrugged. “I’m bringing a chick over. They will give me shit.”
“Why? Like you said, I’ve been over a couple times.”