Page 131 of Due Diligence

“And that would have changed something?” I asked.

He was quiet before his shoulders sank. That meant “no” in his book.

“Once Trevor dumped me, I went to business school, which I’m sure mother told you about. I paid full ticket price, for the record. So, on top of owing you and mom about a million dollars, I also owe the federal government and two private loan providers around one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. So crazy, right? That’s like chump change for you.”

My father lowered his jaw like he was going to speak, but no words came out.

“If I haven’t made it abundantly clear,” I went on, “I will befine.”

“But are you happy?” my mother asked.

I managed to keep myself from laughing out loud at her question. Instead, I kept my face in a frown. “Are you serious right now? When has my happiness ever mattered to either of you?”

“Don’t be like that. Everything we did—”

“Where was my happiness when you two made me read legal books in the second grade? Where was my happiness when I missed summer vacations because you two sent me to meet with tutors in Switzerland?” I turned away and shook my head. “Where the hell was my happiness when you cut me off just because you didn’t like my boyfriend? Do you have any idea how insane that was?”

“You have no idea how special you were. We were just trying to—”

“Screw you,” I snapped. “You don’t think I know how special I am? I go to bed every night wishing I were justnormal.”

My father flinched when he heard that. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? What good has any of this ever done for me? You have no idea what it’s like to have your mind turning a million miles a minute, having to watch people slog through things that come easily to you. There were countless times I had to sit there and watch the two of you go through these inane conversations trying to remember the names of books or foods or movies, and if you had justasked meI could have cleared it up for you in seconds.” I brought my hand up to my forehead. “Why are you here? Why are youreallyhere?”

“I’m here to apologize,” he responded, which was nothing short of a grenade toss.

I paused, hand still on my forehead. I felt my heart leap at those words—words that he had never said before.

“What for?”

“I was wrong,” he said, speaking slowly. “I made a mistake and I know that now. I’ve known that for a long time. And when your mother told me you lost your job, I was truly just worried you weren’t going to be okay. Then I remembered you were more than okay six years ago, and you were much younger and had never worked before…” He let out a sigh. “What can I do now,Cassandra? What can I do to show you I want to be your father again?”

I stared at him, watching as he turned his eyes on me.

“Really?” My voice came out soft and weak. I hated that. I hated that so much. I wasn’t soft. I wasn’t weak. Ever.

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaving it at that. Two words. Two simple words I had waited years to hear.

There should have been more fanfare. There should have been glitter and sparklers and confetti and a performance of the national anthem by Whitney Houston’s hologram.

There was none of that. It was just two simple words that bore the weight of one family’s six-year estrangement.

“Fuck,” I murmured, which of course made them both flinch again. I let out a breath. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” he asked, his face falling.

I shook my head. “You’ve been my father the whole time. You just weren’t a very good one,” I said. “But the funny thing is, you and mom were right about Trevor. He was a waste of space.”

That wasn’t a lie; it was an olive branch.

“I now realize I didn’t separate from you two because of him,” I continued. “He was just there while it happened. The real reason why I broke away from you was because I needed to figure out who I was.”

They both stared at me, silence rising between us. I knew what they wanted to ask:Was I able to do that?

“It’s a work in progress,” I admitted. “but I’m getting there. I found someone who has actually helped me with this a lot. Honestly, you two probably would have loved him.”

“Would have?” my mother inquired.

---