Page 11 of Don't Call Me Daddy
As if we all didn’t know that already.
My dad might be a savvy businessman, but he will always find room in the budget to celebrate his people. It’s the foundation of our entire work culture and everything our family stands for.
Soft chatter fills the room as everyone gathers their things, then follows my dad downstairs to the cafeteria like he’s the Pied Piper.
I sag back in my seat with a grunt and stare up at the ceiling. The last thing I want to do is make small talk over shared tacos right now.
“So … that’s kind of a bummer,” Roman says, and I squint my eyes open to see him standing over me.
“Do you need something or?—”
He holds his hands over his chest and looks offended. “Can I not commiserate in your misery, big brother?”
“Sure. But I’d like to be miserable in silence.” I close my eyes again, doing my best to ignore him.
“I know now’s not really the best time to bring this up … but since it looks like you’re already kind of having a shitty day, I just thought I’d warn you that Bartholomew’s birthday party is this weekend.” He snaps his fingers and then claps. “Obviously, we need you to be there for the group photo.”
I sit up in a rush, making my head spin. “Are you fucking with me right now?”
“No. Why would I joke about something like this? You know how Mom is?—”
“He’s a cat, Rome. Mom found him in a trash can. She has no idea how old he is, much less when his birthday is?—”
“You know as well as I do that the pet psychic told Mom his birthday?—”
“Do you hear yourself right now? I don’t know if I’ve ever heard so many words in a sentence that don’t go together.” I grip the arms of the chair and spin in a circle as I stare up at the ceiling.
How is this what I have to deal with after receiving that soul-crushing news?
“Anyway”—he winces—“that’s not all.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and puffs out his cheeks.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, just spit it out.”
“Mom’s planning a surprise blind date for you at the party. She’s going to ambush you with an errand or something, so you’ll be stuck with one of her knitting group friend’s daughters …” He lets out a heavy exhale like he’s relieved to get that off his chest.
Roman is the sweet brother, which means my mom feels comfortable telling him her wild plans … which also makes him the family snitch. I don’t envy him for it, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re the middle child of five boys.
I groan and press the burning ache in my chest. This stress is giving me indigestion. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have indigestion … maybe the last time I was stress-free? So, when I was twelve?
“Why does she keep doing this? I told her I’m not interested?—”
“Maybe if you actually got out of this office and dated, she wouldn’t feel the need tohelpyou,” Roman offers.
“Gee, thanks, Einstein. But you have no idea about my dating life. You don’t know what I do when I leave. Just because I don’t galivant my private life all over town doesn’t mean I’m not dating.” The wheels in my head begin to spin as the lie starts to take root.
“Whatever, dude. You’re so full of shit?—”
“I’m serious. Just because you haven’t met her doesn’t mean I’m not seeing someone,” I lie.
“Really? Where did you meet?”
“We, uh … we met at a charity event last summer. She spent the whole night busting my balls, and I couldn’t get enough of her. I’d never met anyone so … vibrant and magnetic. I don’t think I could’ve stayed away from her if I tried. At the end ofthe night, I gave her a ride home, and we ended up spending the whole weekend together.”
A little truth sprinkled in with the lie makes for a believable story.
Not too bad for being off the top of my head.
“We hit it off, and we’ve been doing the long-distance thing ever since.”
