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I finish up my appointment and go straight back to the apartment to pack up a week’s worth of clothes. I book a flight into Denver for later that evening, securing a rental car through the airport’s rental company. I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying, but any detail that can make me feel more in control, like having a car available whenever I need it, helps me feel a little less lost.
There’s just one more thing I need to take care of before I can go.
I take a deep breath as I tug open the large glass door leading into McCormick, Stapleton, and Brown. It feels lighter this time, knowing I’m only here for a visit rather than being stuck here all day with a forced smile. The lights even seem brighter, the space more inviting.
“Good morning, Sophia,” I say, stopping at the large steel receptionist desk. I give her an easy smile. She beams back at me, hopping out of her chair and making her way around the desk for a hug.
“Addison, it’s so good to see you!” she says, pulling away to give me a once-over. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you. That’s so kind of you to say.” And entirely untrue, but who am I to turn down a compliment? “How have you been? How’s Jake?”
“Oh, he’s great! He has a few auditions later this week that he’s really excited for.” Her smile is wide as she beams with pride.
A deep wave of nostalgia washes over me. I’ve missed Sophia’s easy friendship. She’s been working at the firm for the past three years, and as the only two women here, we bonded easily.
Whenever we needed a break from the testosterone overload and constant bickering amongst my father and, well, anyone who crossed his path, we’d run out to lunch and gossip about her dreamboat actor boyfriend, Jake, and overindulge on chips and queso.
“I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch,” I say, and I mean it. Sophia is as genuine as they come, and her friendship has gotten me through many rough days at the office.
“Oh, don’t be silly. I’m sure you’ve been busy. I’m guessing you’re here to see your father. Ethan isn’t here.”
“Yes, I was hoping Ethan’s schedule was the same, and I could avoid that little meetup,” I say with a wink. Sophia gives me a laugh and then hugs me again.
“Well, I’ll let you go, then. It was nice seeing you,” she said. As I start to walk away, she calls out to me, “Oh and Addison? Freedom looks damn good on you.”
I walk with a little extra enthusiasm as I head to my father’s office. A few seconds after I knock on his door, I hear the page for Sophia’s phone. I know he’s calling to ask her who’s bothering him without her warning.
I meet her wide eyes from across the room. He must be giving her an earful, but she handles it with grace. After too many seconds pass by, I roll my eyes and swing open the heavy door. My father’s annoyed eyes bore into mine, almost enough to make me squirm. Finally, he hangs up the phone and continues working on whatever’s in front of him.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, settling into a chair in front of his desk.
“Addison.” He raises his eyebrows slightly but doesn’t bother to look up from his paperwork. I guess he can’t be bothered.
“I haven’t heard from you in a while,” I say, trying my best to ignore the sharp sting of his indifference. My fingers trace over the smooth leather, my body’s only outlet for the anxiousness running through it.
He grunts. “I’ve been busy.”
I sit quietly and watch as he turns to his computer.
“I’ve called.” After my mother died and he sent me away for school, he would call weekly to check up on my studies. Four o’clock in the afternoon, every Sunday.
He never asked if I needed anything, never said he missed me. He only called to make sure I was focusing on school, keeping up with my commitments, and not tarnishing his good name.
Once I moved home with Ethan and began working at the firm, I guess my father and I stopped communicating outside of work-related conversation completely.
I hadn’t even noticed.
Just like in my relationship with Ethan, I had been completely fucking clueless.
Guilt plagues me. I can only put so much of the blame on them before I have to recognize that I’m at fault too. When I felt each of them pulling away from me, I never tried to hold on tighter. I never reached out to them or stood up for myself. My pride was too strong, and it hurt too much to face their indifference head-on.
“I walked out of here almost three months ago, and you didn’t once consider checking in? You’re my father.” The words come out quietly, but they seem to make their mark.
He sighs, pulling his glasses off his face and pinching the bridge of his nose, his tell that he has a headache. The only issue is that I’m the headache, and I don’t plan on leaving until I’ve had my say.
He leans back in his chair and clasps his hands in front of him. His head is cocked to the side, examining me like I’m a dead bird he’s found in the yard, and he’s not sure how to dispose of me.
“A disappointed father,” he finally says. “I told you when you walked out of here that you wouldn’t be welcome back.”
