Page 25 of Tough Love

“Please.”

I collect our drinks from the small kitchen and bring them through to where Dad has made himself comfortable at the outdoor table I bought for the balcony. It barely fits, but sitting out here during the mild autumn evenings when the sky turns all shades of orange, pink, and purple over the distant mountains is worth it.

“Hell of a day, huh?” I smile, trying to break the awkward silence.

He smirks in response, sadness tainting his gaze, and hangs his head. “Amelia, sweetie.”

“I know, Dad.”

“No, you don’t.” He sighs, staring out over the neighbouring reserve as he picks up his glass. “I’m disappointed you two never got to sort things out.”

I sit in silence, staring at my hands while I wait for him to say it:“That was your fault.” “You were the one who was given the opportunity to make things right.”But he doesn’t. He simply takes a sip of his chilled water, setting the glass down on the table so carefully that it doesn’t make a sound.

The lack of comment says it all.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I admit quietly. “Nothing can change what’s been.”

“No, it can’t.” He reaches across the table, offering his hand, and I take it. “Your mum and I, we love you, and all we wanted was for our girls to be happy.”

“I am happy,” I whisper. “And I think she was too.”

“She was conflicted,” he states.

I shake my head, pulling my hand away. “Don’t. Don’t do this now.”

“But you need to understand,” he says, calm and quiet.

I stare at him, a frown pulling my brow inward. “Maybe. But I don’t need to be laden with more guilt for the choices that were made.”

He huffs, and then downs the rest of his water in one go. “I better go see how your mother’s getting on.”

“Yeah, okay.”

I don’t get up, and I don’t see him out. The gentle hum of his engine fades as he leaves the complex, and I take my first full breath since he brought the subject of Kath’s and my rift up.

Given the option, I wouldn’t have picked this path either. But life is what you make of it, and sometimes the fruit was never yours to pick, just the rotten remnants of someone else’s journey left for you to avoid.

Kath had the gifted path through life. She never had to work for a damn thing: friends, jobs, and opportunities were presented to her. Whereas I was the stark opposite. Every dream I worked for was taken from me by misfortune, or an unscaleable obstacle was set in my path. Fortune and fate shat on me every opportunity they could, and as a result, the success I fought tooth and nail for is nothing but a hollow dream of what I envisaged a happy life to be.

I lied to Dad.

I’m not happy. I’m content. I like who I am, and I’m confident in the career path I’ve developed. But I’m not happy.

My life is empty.

I get home from work and a vacant, still house greets me. Nobody debates what’s for dinner, or suggests we eat out and catch a movie instead. All those choices are mine. And as crazy as it sounds, I’d do anything for somebody to pick an argument with me, tell me to pick up my dirty laundry, or chastise me for buying a new pair of shoes when I should have paid the power bill on time.

All I want is a soul mate to set my nights on fire; the person who can set me at ease with a single look; a partner who can make the worst of days feel insignificant when I’m curled up beside him on the sofa; the man who can release me from my chains with a single touch.

The knight in shining armour who doesn’t exist.

The unobtainable dream.

The kind of thing money can’t buy.

EIGHT

My neck feels as though somebody’s nailed a board of wood to one side: stiff and painful as hell. I roll onto my side, trying to remember why on earth I thought a quick nap on the sofa would be a good idea, and wince.

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