Page 88 of Our Secret Moments

He nods before shaking his head. He opens the door wider. “Yes, love. I’m sorry- I…” he stutters as I make my way through the door, undoing my layers, ready to hang them up behind the door. “You just… You look so much like your mom.”

His words make me stop in my tracks. It’s not what he said – I get that all the time, especially when I’m in the neighbourhood. I see her in me whenever I look in the mirror, I don’t need people to tell me. But my dad only says that when he’s really missing her. He is always put-together. Mostly because he has to be. He’s the mayor. He has responsibilities. But it’s extremely rare that he is that out of control with me.

I just smile at him, not sure what to say. “Is there anything I should help with for dinner?” I ask, walking into the kitchen. I hear his footsteps pause behind me before he slowly starts to make his way in here.

No matter how busy my dad got, he always loved to cook, so I’m not surprised that the oven is stuffed with food even though he’s only cooking for us two and some to bring to JoJo.

“I think I’ve covered everything,” my dad says, looking over me as I open the lid to the pot of steamed vegetables. “You can set the table.”

We move around each other silently as we get the table prepared. It shouldn’t be this hard or awkward trying to have a conversation with my dad. Over the phone, he would have the excuse of needing to do something with his assistant, but he can’t do that now it’s the holidays.

Once the table is set, neither of us have said anything until we’re sitting across from each other, our plates full of food. I slice my fork through the mashed potato.

“How are things at work?” I ask quietly before stuffing my face with some of the food, whilst I wait for his answer. I avoid eye contact and continue pushing around my food.

Dad clears his throat. “Things are good. We’re hoping to get through the new improvements to the school district in the new year, which is our main priority right now,” he answers. Our gazes clash and I hold his stare. “Speaking of… How is college?”

I swallow, nodding. “It’s good. If you remember one of the last times we spoke over the phone, I was telling you about this project I was doing with the football team.” I brace myself for an interruption, but it doesn’t come. He’s actually listening to me… “Well, I’m still finishing it up. It’s, like, this huge blog piece with the team and some explanations for people who don’t know anything about football. It’s been fun to do besides regular classes.”

I could have continued, but I hate feeling like I’m talking too much so I stop and wait for my dad to say something. He nods once. Twice. “That sounds good. I’m glad you’ve got something fun to do.”

There’s a pause between the two of his sentences and again, I don’t know how to respond. Something has changed in our relationship and I always knew there would be a time where I’d get older and we’d eventually grow apart. I’ve seen it done in a million films and in books, but when I saw the way Elle and Nora have such good relationships with their parents, I thought my dad and I would always be close.

I wish I knew if it was something I did that drove us apart. If there was something I could fix with my two bare hands and put us back together.

We both know why we’ve drifted apart and neither of us want to talk about it, but it’s beenyears. I want us to go back to how it was.

I want us to have Christmas dinner like a normal family and open presents together and joke about how my mom would hide presents around the house. We’d spend all day searching and if we didn’t find them, we’d have to wait until we actually found them for us to have them. Sometimes I wouldn’t find one for months and it would end up being one of the best presents I’ve ever received.

A smile tugs at my lips just at the thought of it. “Do you remember when–”

“Look, Catherine, I don’t–”

We both speak at the same time and I shake my head at whatever I was going to say. “No, you go,” I whisper, stabbing my fork into some chicken, mumbling as I add, “it wasn’t anything important.”

“Okay,” he replies, pushing his plate forward slightly as he crosses his arms against his chest. “Look, Cat.” He repeats beforesighing. “I apologise for not being in more contact with you and I know things are tough between us, but you should know that I don’t want it to be like this.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, my eyes immediately stinging at his words. “Then why is it?”

He runs his hand down his face. “Because…” He takes another deep breath and I wait for him. It’s been five years since mom passed and we’ve been in this weird purgatory ever since. “Work has been busy and it’s not like you’ve tried to reach out either.”

“That’s because whenever I do, you either cut me off, or we end up arguing,” I retort, my face suddenly feeling hot.

“And why do you think that is?” I open my mouth, ready to respond, but nothing comes out. “I know you think I’m the bad guy, but things have been hard for me too. I didn’t just lose your mom, I lost mywife, Cat. And I don’t think you’re fully understanding that.”

I do understand that. I’ve spent months grieving my mom in different ways. The ones that hurt the most were where I looked at it from the point of view of my nana who lost her daughter and my dad who had lost his wife.

“Do you seriously think I don’t think about that? I think about it all the time. Understanding your situation has nothing to do with our relationship,” I argue, tears fighting my eyes to fall.

“Then why are you making this so difficult?”

“Because you don’t care about me, dad. Not anymore. Sometimes it feels like you never did. Like it was some sort of show you put on for mom. Because if you did, you would have called me on her anniversary or texted me orsomething.You would have made more of an effort to see me on Thanksgiving, or try to have a conversation with me that isn’t about school or work.”

He kisses his teeth. “Of course I care about you. You’re my daughter.”

“No, you care about mebecauseI’m your daughter. You care about me out of guilt, out of the fact that blood is the only thing tying us together,notbecause you are actually interested in how I am doing,” I challenge, my voice growing louder. I can see the annoyance on my dad’s face and I just blink back at him.

“Don’t you dare say that, Catherine. Just because I don’t call you doesn’t mean I don’t care. I do, I just–”

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