Chapter Twenty-One
Sierra
I open my eyes at exactly six, as usual. Normally, I linger in bed for a couple of minutes in total silence, but today my phone starts ringing at six-oh-one.
Must be something important. I pick it up off the nightstand and frown when I see it’s Dad calling. What does he want?
Our conversations don’t generally go well. Before Mom passed away, we exchanged what was necessary. Things like greetings or asking for schedules to plan for stuff like Father’s Day brunches or birthdays.
But since Linda came into the picture, we haven’t even done that. I have a recurring contract with a local florist to send Dad bouquets on Father’s Day and his birthday. On Christmas, I send him a box of the specialty chocolate treats he likes. He doesn’t reciprocate—not even a quick text wishing me happy birthday or merry Christmas—but I’m used to that now. Expectations bring nothing but heartache.
The phone quits ringing. I shrug. Guess we won’t be talking.
Then a text arrives with a ping.
–Dad: I know you’re up. Can we talk? It won’t take long.
I stare at the text, wondering what could be so urgent. The phone rings again, and I hit the green button.
“Hey, Dad,” I say.
“Sierra.” His tone is a mixture of impatient annoyance—probably over the fact that I didn’t pick up earlier—and relief that he’s getting to talk to me. “Why didn’t you answer earlier?”
“I just got up,” I lie, since I don’t want to get into this. “What is it?”
A beat of silence. “I thought we taught you better than that.”
“Better than what?”
“You could’ve said, ‘How are you?’ first.”
Is it me or does he sound peeved?
“I am your father.”
Old resentment stirs up like sand brushed up by sudden currents. My hand tightens around the phone. We no longer have the kind of relationship where we check on each other, and it wasn’t me who wanted that. I was actually shocked he came to my wedding two years ago, although in retrospect, it was probably Linda’s doing, since she so adores her nephew. “I have to get ready for work. You said this wouldn’t take long.”
He makes a vaguely flustered sound. “Yes. Well. It’s about what happened yesterday.”
“What in particular?”
“Are you really going to be that cruel to Todd?”
“To—” This can’t be happening. “Are you honestly calling me at the crack of dawn to talk about my ex-husband?”
“He’s still family.”
Dad might as have reached through the screen and backhanded me. I just stare at my phone, speechless. Where was he when I needed him? Did he feel this way when he begrudgingly forced himself to show up for my graduation because of Grandma? Or decided to forget my birthdays and Christmas and…
I shake my head, hard. I promised myself I wouldn’t dwell on any of that, so I’m not going to start now.
“Maybe your family. Not mine.” Despite my best effort, my voice quavers.
“Don’t be absurd—”
“If you don’t have anything else to discuss, I’m hanging up. I have to get ready for work.”
Without waiting for a response, I hang up. I don’t want to waste any more mental energy. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on my breathing for a few moments.