Mike starts the car and leaves the spot, making me feel a sense of emptiness inside. I keep my focus on my daughter, but I feel so far away.
“I’m sorry too, Myah. But we don’t have to talk about it now. We can talk about this later, okay? But, for now, you can rest.”
Myah nods and rests her head on my shoulder.
“Dad.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m sorry for judging you too and calling you pig-headed in front of Sloane,” she explains, and I stifle a chuckle. But, Myah continues, still solemn, “I didn’t know about the mask.”
I clench my fists. Andrew and Calvin look at me through the rearview mirror with shocked faces. How can Sloane say such things to a twelve-year-old?
“What do you mean mask?” I ask deadpan.
Myah sighs before answering. “I feel horrible that Sloane has to go on dates with a mask on.”
I relaxed a bit with her explanation. “Did Sloane tell you that?”
Myah nods. “I think a person would only bother hiding their face behind a mask if they felt ugly about themselves. When we first met, Sloane was looking into plastic surgeons — she hates her face that much. And she isn’t ugly, right, Dad? I think she is one of the most wonderful and beautiful people that I have met in my life. Even better than Mom. And you know what, Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“She said that she told you about her feelings. She admitted to me that she loves you and that you just can’t accept her because she is hiding behind a mask.”
Sloane never lies to Myah, and Myah never lies. She is so straightforward that sometimes her words hurt.
And now, I’m in disbelief. How come my young daughter understands the world better than I do? She doesn’t even know all the story, and yet she has more profound insight into Sloane’s façade.
It’s been about her Dad all along — Sloane’s father who won’t stop controlling her and using her as a pawn, like she isn’t a person — like she has no right to be her own person. His treatment has corrupted Sloane’s belief in herself.
Regret and pity replace all the anger in my heart. Sloane does not deserve to be treated the way that I treated her. If only I were as empathic as my daughter. If only that, then…
“That’s why I want you to know her, Dad,” Myah interrupts my thoughts, “I want you to give her a chance and get to know the real her. So when she sees you or another person in her life, she will never have to wear another mask.”
I sigh and wrap my arm around my daughter. I pull her closer to me and whisper, “I want that too, Myah. I do.”
Chapter Thirty - Sloane
Before Myah and Owen, I enjoyed the humdrum at McKenzie Inc. This place has given me a chance that my father refused to offer me. In here, I am my own person. I do what I think is best for the company, for me. It has been, as the French say, my raison d'être. But recently, it felt tasteless to me. Why am I here? This is what I have found myself thinking about since I returned weeks ago.
“Why am I here?” I whisper to the emptiness of my office. I know that I’m generally a serious person, but I’m not melancholic. Yet these past few days, I feel like I’m drowning in deep sadness that I can’t seem to get out of. Is it too early for me to be in a midlife crisis?
On my first day back to the office, Ashton gave me tons of backlogs to work on. He and Kane know that projects are what fuel me during the day. But two days in, all the folders are unopened and still lying in a stack on my desk. I perused a few and noticed that they aren’t backlogs. They’re for future projects that aren’t even in the works yet. I then realize that maybe Reese is behind all of these files. She knows that I have to keep myself busy, so I can stop thinking about Myah and Owen. Still, ever since that second day at work, surrounded with unopened files and crumpled papers, l can’t stop thinking about them.
So, I have decided to give myself more time to process everything and let myself go to work unfocused and sad, pretending to do actual work. And the bosses let me be.
Then the second week rolls in, and I still have no interest whatsoever in the projects. So, Reese stops in at work one day and talks to me about what happened.
“You need to process this, Sloane. You can’t just let what happened dictate what you will do with your life now. Are you really going to throw away everything that you have worked for? This place is the one thing that is yours, right? You told me that when we became friends. Remember that?”