Page 132 of Due Diligence

“It’s complicated.” I walked over to my small kitchen table and fell into one of the seats. “It’s just so freaking complicated.”

To my surprise, my dad got up and walked to the table as well. He pulled out one of the mismatched chairs and sat across from me.

“Look, Cassandra,” he began, “this has all been…challenging. And I don’t have a right to make excuses for my mistakes. I have to own them. But it sounds like the biggest mistake I made was making you feel like you were trapped.”

I nodded and my eyes remained on his face.

“The money that you’ve set aside for us,” he continued, “I’ve never cashed it, as I’m sure you’re aware. Where are you keeping it?”

“Just a checking account.”

“I want you to use it,” he instructed, “for yourself. If you’re out of work, you probably need it right now. How much do you have left on your business school debt?”

“A shit ton.”

“Pay back your loans, use it on rent or food or your phone—maybe all of it. Just use the money. You earned it.”

I inhaled sharply. “If I use that money, it means I’ve forgiven you. I don’t know if I’ve done that yet.”

“If that’s the case, this was always about money—and I don’t think that’s quite right. It wasn’t about the money, was it?” my father asked.

“No,” I admitted.

“Then let’s take money off the table and talk about the invisible debts we owe each other. Obviously, your mother and I have come up short as parents. How can we make up for that?”

My father had brown eyes like mine—eyes that could have been too big for his face but were precisely right. I knew from experience that those eyes so often betrayed the emotions he sought to hide. As he stared at me, I knew he was being sincere.

“Dad, it’s not just you who has come up short. Over the last few weeks, I think I’ve realized I…” I trailed off as I tried to findthe words. I was so bad at this—I was so bad at putting words to feelings. “I think I owe it to myself to try to work through what I’ve been going through.”

“What are you going through?” he asked.

“You know, I got fired last week, and I feel nothing over it. Nothing. I just don’t know how anyone like me can just feel so aimless all the time.” I shook my head. “To be honest, I think I need therapy.”

They were both quiet for a few seconds until my mother leaned forward from her spot on the couch and said, “I go to therapy, darling. It’s so helpful for me.”

Surprised to hear that, I frowned. “Since when?”

“Six years ago.”

As that realization washed over me, I looked between their faces. Those faces hadn’t changed in six years. The memories I held of them could have mixed seamlessly with the present.

It was consistent. I liked consistency. I needed it.

“To be honest, the hardest part for me is just setting up an appointment and going. I get so overwhelmed with it. There are too many ways for me to overthink it and to back out, ultimately. And now I’m going to lose my health insurance, so then there are out of pocket costs, so money is a factor—”

“Cassandra,” my dad cut in.

I stopped speaking and looked up at him. Comforting eyes met mine. I probably shouldn’t have been so taken aback to see that, but more importantly, I appreciated them.

“We can help you find someone,” he offered. A wry grin followed. “We’re good at Google now. And I rented a car, which your mother said was a stupid idea in New York, but I—”

“Walter, please.” My mother waved him off in a manner that was so arrogant and wealthy and typical—and almost endearing in a way it had never been before.

“Let’s find you someone to talk to,” he said, nodding encouragingly. He put his hand over mine. “Let’s do that together.”

Chapter 36: Marcus

Six months later

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