Page 5 of Indigo

She’s worried about me, and I get it. She’s watched me turn into a completely different person these last few years, and as a mother, that must fucking suck. The worst part is she’s this concerned, and she doesn’t even know the half of what really went down between Michael and me.

I hope she never does.

I don’t want to see the look of disappointment on her face when I tell her how I allowed a man to treat me the way he did.

With a fake smile, she crosses the room and passes me one mug before taking a large gulp from the other. “Are you ready to go?”

I nod, sad that today is her last day with me after a week-long visit.

There haven’t been many instances where I’ve been thankful for being fired by Michael’s father, the infamous Dr. Harris, but being able to spend the past seven days with her has been good for my soul.

Being ‘let go’ was by far one of the most humiliating experiences of my life, second only to walking in on my boyfriend fucking one of my co-workers on his kitchen counter.

I guess it’s my own fault for deciding to date my boss’s son, even if I didn’t realise that’s who he was at the time.

Michael goes by his mother’s surname, like me, and didn’t bother mentioning the fact that his father owned the doctor’s surgery we both worked at until we’d been dating for over three months. Dr. Harris, his dad, assured me he was fine with our relationship when I approached him about the matter, thinking it was the professional thing to do.

And it was fine. Until it wasn’t.

“So, you’re firing me?” I ask the man who still insists that I call him ‘Doctor’ to maintain a sense of formality between us, even though I’ve been dating his son for almost two and a half years. He sits across from me, facial expression emotionless, looking at me as if I’m nothing.

“No,” he replies, leaning back in his chair, clutching the armrests more firmly. “I’m suggesting you resign.”

“Suggesting?” I choke out, covering my mouth, trying to disguise my involuntary laughter as a coughing fit.

He narrows his eyes and tilts his chin a little higher. The pompous prick. “I think it would be best for everyone, don’t you? Or do you enjoy parading yourself around here in those tiny skirts, teasing my son after breaking his heart?”

This time I don’t disguise the humour I find in his words. “I’m sorry if my uniform, the uniform you provided all of us by the way, offends you, Dr. Harris, but your comment is coming across a little workplace sexual harassmenty, don’t you think?”

“Indigo. Don’t make this more of a fight than it needs to be. Show a little grace and bow out. Michael isn’t leaving, and your presence is only making the situation worse. What did you think was going to happen when your relationship ended the way it did?”

I cringe at the memory and take a sip of coffee to wash down the bitter taste left in my mouth. “Yep. I’m ready, just give me two seconds to make a quick phone call,” I say to Mum, turning and grabbing my phone from the bedside table before facing her again.

Her body goes rigid. We both know who I’m calling, and though she tries her hardest to hide her disapproval of the man who fathered me, I can see the resentment flash across her face plain as day.

My parents had me young. Way too young. Mum has always said it was a blessing. That she and I wouldn’t be as close if the age gap between us was any bigger, but I know deep down that having me at twenty-one closed doors for her that would’ve been open had she chosen not to.

My father, having no interest in being a parent, to me, anyway, didn’t help the situation either.

He’s got a new family now. He lives in Perth with his new wife, has a couple of kids I’ve never met.

He loves posting their accomplishments all over Facebook, so clearly, he’s changed his tune on the whole parental thing, just not when it involves me.

The only thing that man has done for me that could be seen as somewhat paternal was let me live here rent free while covering my expenses during my studies. The moment he caught wind of my leaving, though, I was issued a notice from a real estate agency, letting me know that if I wished to continue living in my apartment that I would need to sign a periodic lease, and pay the astronomical amount of rent he was asking.

Fatherly love is something else, isn’t it?

Mum turns and leaves the room after stepping forward and giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, giving me the privacy I need to leave yet another pleading voice message asking him to call me back.

I wait until I hear her pottering around in the kitchen to pull up my father’s number.

Sitting back on my bright orange quilt, the only pop of colour in this all white room, I bounce my knee, nervous as the ringing begins. Holding my breath, I wait, hoping this time he’ll actually care enough to answer, but of course, no luck.

“Hi, You’ve reached David Avery. Please leave a message and I’ll return your call as soon as I’m able. Thank you.”

I mouth the words as they play in my ear, knowing them by heart.

“Hi, Dad,” I begin, nervously twirling a strand of hair around my finger. “I, um, I’ve left a few messages, and I was hoping maybe we could talk. I’ve… I’ve run into some issues, and I received an email last week letting me know that you’re increasing the rent. I just…” I sigh, dropping my chin to my chest in defeat. “Just call me back when you’re free. I hope Fiona and the kids are well.”

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