Page 19 of Role Play
“Jenni—your momalways wanted us to take a family trip to South Korea. She wanted to show us where she grew up and where your grandparents are buried. Eat street food, shop at the local markets, sightsee, hike…a lot of non-couch-potato activities.”
I nod. “I know. She still talks about going sometimes.”
“We should’ve done it back then.” His mouth tenses into a grimace, like he’s fighting off an unwelcome emotion that’sreared its ugly head. “Maybe for your birthday next year, you, me, and your mom can take a trip. What do you think?”
I think even if hell froze over, Mom wouldn’t entertain the idea of spending time with Dad. “When’s the last time you talked to her?”
“I texted her about a month ago, letting her know I’d be in town today.”
I quirk one brow. That’s news. Mom tells me everything, but she didn’t tell me that. “And what did she say?”
“Nothing, just a ‘read’ receipt.” Dad averts his gaze.
If she won’t return a text, a fun-filled international family vacation is certainly out of the question. “What are you saying right now? You miss Mom all of a sudden?”
He releases a deep exhale. “I tried dating. I joined a site.”
I want to ask him which site but I don’t know if I can really stomach the visual of Dad on Tinder, so I sidestep further inquiry. “Cool…cool. Are you ordering another whiskey sour?”
“The women are… I don’t know. Dating is different when you’re in your fifties.”
Apparently we are having this conversation. Fantastic. I grab my own cocktail and guzzle down the remnants of the berry Cosmo with lavender syrup. “How is it different?”
“I put in my age and interests, assuming my matches would be women in their fifties as well. But oddly, most of the women who message me are in their twenties and thirties. We have nothing in common. I’m not sure what to talk about. It’s unclear what they’re after.”
Wrong. It’s crystal clear: his wallet. But I don’t want to cheapen his efforts or hurt his feelings. “Oh, come on, Dad. You’re a catch.”
“I’m old. I don’t know what these young women want from me.”
“Age-gap romance is in right now. You’re like a svelte Santa Claus…just not as cheery.”
Dad flattens his expression, thoroughly unamused at my joke. “Age gap?”
“Yeah. You’re in your zaddy era.”
“Zaddy?” Dad parrots. “Are you still speaking English?”
I chuckle under my breath. Dad’s always the most confident—sometimes arrogant—man in the room. It’s endearing to see him a little insecure about this. “It means women of all ages are attracted to confidence and sophistication.”
“Hmph,” he grunts. “Well, it’s bizarre. I find myself wanting to talk to someone about it. Maybe even laugh with someone or get advice about how to navigate this. But at the end of the day…”
“Mom was the only person you ever really talked to, huh?”
“Your mother was the only person in this world I ever felt connected to. I always lived with my head in the clouds, my mind in a different dimension. But your mom had a way of keeping me tethered to this earth. I didn’t realize what a gift that was until recently.”
He seems to shrink right in front of me. The great J.P. Cooper, humbled by the love he let get away. My dad never cheated on my mom, to my knowledge. He was never abusive. Dad was simply absent, and my mom got tired of begging for his attention. Writing was his true love and commitment, his wife—simply a mistress.
“Do you want me to talk to her?”
I was not anticipating his eager nod of agreement. “Would you?”
I thread my fingers together, rotating my thumbs like a proud mafia boss. My dad is my latest victim, and I have him right where I want him. “I will…under one condition.”
“Being?” He raises both brows, before he throws back the rest of his drink.
“Give me onereal, honest piece of advice, author to author.”
“My pockets are deep, Sora. All you want is career advice?”
