Fake (20 page)

Nine years.

I'm taller for a start. My hair is darker, longer. Oh, and there's the effects of puberty.

And Dad. I only have that one memory. The one where we spun and I screamed with laughter. His hair was dark like mine, with a slight wave, and his jaw was clean-shaven. I remember him being tall but most people were to me then.

What if I don't recognise him?

Surrounded by a pile of clothes, balancing on the edge of tears, I text Sebastian, asking him to call me.

He's at work all weekend to make up for the hours he missed while looking after his sick baby sister and I don't want to interrupt if he's dealing with a customer. I'd been hoping to spend time with him this weekend after we barely spoke at school all week, but not seeing him means I've been able to avoid any serious conversations about his secret or about Aaron and Lana.

Sometimes I annoy myself with how wimpy I am.

Chay's been so busy with her big art project I haven't seen her either, but she messaged to say she noticed I deleted Aaron's account.

I asked her about the texts but she didn't reply.

Once Chay would have been the one I called to talk me down from the panic of meeting my father but the way she's been recently, the only person I want is Sebastian.

The distraction of texting helps and I finally decide on an outfit. I dress for comfort. Jeans, boots and my soft black jumper that feels like I'm wearing a hug. I brush my hair, add lip gloss and I'm ready with forty minutes to spare.

Too long and not long enough. I move so I can see the driveway but there's no sign of Mum coming home from her date. My phone is silent. I am alone in my house, about to go have coffee with Dad and I think my head might explode. It might not be the worst thing. Sure, it would be messy, but at least I wouldn't have to think about what on earth I'm going to say to the man who cheated on Mum and me in the most spectacular of ways.

Another minute passes and the driveway remains stubbornly empty.

I picture her pulling in, me running down to meet her and spilling my guts about everything and her doing that thing where she makes everything better. I stare until my vision blurs but it doesn't happen.

I check the time. Twenty minutes until I need to leave. The walk to Sweety's takes less than ten.

I don't want to arrive early and sit alone at a booth. Waiting. Or worse, have to make small talk with someone from school and then have to introduce them to my father.

The crunch of gravel in the drive has me on my feet and exhaling a long sigh of relief. Mum and distraction. I'll tell her everything. Then I'll be able to meet Dad with a clean conscience and with my head held high.

Only when I peek through the lace curtain it's not Mum's car. It's better. Much better.

I run to the door and then force three deep breaths before dragging it open.

CHAPTER

16

‘Hey Kath.'

Sebastian's smile nearly makes me cry. He's adorable, standing on the doorstep in black jeans and a green shirt with Dave's Computer Emporium on the label. Today his sneakers are bright red.

‘Hey.' I look over his shoulder. ‘You have the car.' It's not at all what I want to say but I'm hardly at my witty, conversational best.

‘I promised to pick up some nappies for Poppy on the way home from work. I don't finish for two hours but Dave said I could take my break now.' He shrugs. ‘I was worried about you.'

I think back to the tone of my text. How could he have known?

There's something about this boy who's always here when I need him. I don't think there's ever been a male in my life I could say that about. His arms open and I step into his embrace.

My head rests on his chest and the regular thump of his heart calms my own racing pulse.

At first being held by Sebastian is the perfect comfort, but then I remember all the things we're not talking about and I squirm a little. I lean back enough to look up into his eyes that crinkle at the corners. I make a silent promise.

We'll talk soon.

He kisses my nose. ‘So, what's up?'

‘My dad emailed.'

‘And?'

I gulp. ‘And I'm meeting him at Sweety's in fifteen minutes.' As the words come out I'm deceptively calm. As though I meet the man I've shut out of my life for nine years every day.

Sebastian isn't fooled. ‘How's your mum?'

I love how he hasn't even met her but he knows how important she is to me. ‘Mum's out. She doesn't know. It all happened in the last hour.' I rub at the pain in my temples. ‘What am I doing? Maybe I should cancel.'

His hands go to my shoulders and he anchors me still. ‘Take a deep breath.'

I do as he asks. It's a shaky heave of my chest but the oxygen calms me and I can think better.

He waits until I'm calm. ‘You meet the guy, say what you need to say and explain to your mum after. No big deal.' We both know that's a lie but I nod anyway. His finger brushes my lips. ‘You're pretty hot when you're panicked.'

I blink. He said what? Then I notice his lips twitching and I laugh and the clamp of nerves around my chest loosens. ‘You're a funny guy.'

He nods, adopting an exaggeratedly serious expression. ‘You are hot though.'

If he's trying to take my mind off my nervousness it's worked because hearing him say he thinks I'm hot isn't something I can ignore. I catch sight of the clock. ‘I have to go.'

His crooked smile melts me just a little bit. ‘Me too.'

We walk out together and somehow I remember to lock the door behind me. Explaining Dad to Mum will be hard enough without having a break and enter on my conscience too. We stop at his car.

He opens the passenger door, missing Mum's lime tree by less than an inch. ‘Would you like a ride?'

As much as I want a few more minutes with Sebastian I need to clear my head. ‘Thanks but I'll walk.'

‘Wow.'

‘What?'

‘Talk about fast decisions. It's not like you.'

Already he's noticed the thing about me that annoys those to whom I'm closest.

He's right though. It isn't like me. And if I include the decision to meet my father, it's not the first I've made today. ‘It's been a day for it,' I admit.

‘Oh, before I forget, I'm close to finding a location for this Aaron guy.'

As if I wasn't already sick with nerves. ‘How? I thought he'd closed his account.' I mentally bite my tongue. ‘I saw someone post looking for an address because they couldn't contact him.'

‘Nerd stuff. But I do know he's using a nearby ISP provider. Be careful if he contacts you, he's not what he seems.'

If only you knew
.

I force what I hope passes for a grateful smile. ‘Thanks for looking out for me.' I wish I could enjoy this knight in shining armour rather than needing to pray he loses interest or his skills fail him.

He must assume my vagueness is a result of the upcoming meeting. His kiss goodbye is hard and brief. ‘Stop worrying. You'll be awesome. Call me after if you need.'

I nod. My voice is too untrustworthy to risk speech. I take a step after him, catch his shirt and pull him close for one more kiss. It's the only way I can think of to show him how much I needed him today. And how grateful I am he was here.

Despite the Sebastian interruption, I reach Sweety's six minutes before the appointed time. Will he be early? Mum always says I get my punctuality from him, but then again he had good reasons to make sure she didn't go checking on him.

I press my shaking hand to the glass door and push it open.

And then freeze.

Standing there in the doorway I have about as much movement in me as the contents of one of the ice-cream tubs in the huge freezer.

Mum is here.

She's in a booth at the far end of the shop, her head thrown back as she laughs prettily at something a man with black hair and a brown scarf says. Her eyes sparkle and she takes his hand. He squeezes and the laughter fades into something sweeter. I can't see his face but it has to be Colin.

My belly flips. I have to get out of here.

Stepping backwards, I collide with someone trying to enter behind me. My momentum carries us both out and onto the pavement in a stumble to stay upright. A glance inside shows Mum hasn't noticed me. She's too involved with her date.

I turn to apologise to the stranger I rammed into, and the flip in my belly becomes a double pike with twist. The brown eyes I remember from my childhood are looking right into mine.

‘Sorry,' he says in a gruff voice.

This is it.

My father is standing within touching distance. I open my mouth to speak, but before I can say anything he's stepping past me. My thumping heart is about to burst out of my mouth.

He doesn't know who I am.

The moan comes unbidden. A soft cry of pain from deep in my throat as my eyes burn and my head reels back as though struck.

He doesn't know who I am.

His hand is on the door but doesn't push it open. ‘Kathleen?' The brown eyes return to my face, they search it and the whole time I stand there. Stunned. Hurting. ‘Kathleen?'

I nod.

His smile reveals teeth crooked like mine were before the braces I wore in year nine – braces that he had to pay for. ‘I'm Marty.' He hesitates, and I know I will replay and analyse why later. ‘Your father.'

He holds out a hand but I don't take it. I can't. Touching him might make this real and I don't know if I can survive real. Easier to pretend I'm playing this meeting out in my mind like I have so many times before.

Although I never imagined we'd be meeting in the same place where Mum was laughing with her date. I turn back to check they still haven't noticed. We're safe for now, but they could stand to leave at any moment. ‘We need to go somewhere else.'

Marty's dark eyebrows meet in the middle of his forehead like puzzled caterpillars but he doesn't argue when I lead the way toward a café on the next block. He trails behind me and I imagine him studying me and trying to find the little girl he knew in the person I've become.

Or maybe he's regretting he sent me the letter.

The sun is low and weak in the sky but it's me wanting to avoid Mum walking past and spotting me that sends me inside, not the cold. Marty and I sit opposite each other at a plastic table. Between us is a fake tulip in a vase and a small pot of sugar.

‘Would you like a coffee?' he asks.

I shake my head as the waitress comes over. He orders a black coffee with two sugars with a friendly smile and I take the opportunity to study him. He's polite and pleasant to the purple-haired girl and I'm glad. I hate people who talk down to serving staff as though they're beneath them.

My father's not bad looking. Neat, short brown hair, slightly receding. His build is trim beneath a long charcoal coat and he's wearing a shirt and tie. Is this his normal Sunday attire or did he dress to meet me?

The waitress leaves and he catches me staring at him.

I flush but refuse to look away. Instead I lean forward, try to pin him to the seat opposite with all the years of anger inside me. ‘Why now?'

His hands fold on the table and I wonder if it's to still some nervous trembling or whether it's a delaying tactic that's helped make him so successful in business. ‘I had a heart attack three months ago.' His shoulders lift. ‘I was afraid I might die without seeing the person you've become.'

‘How ironic.' I can't keep the bitterness from my voice. ‘It was a heart scare that had Mum rushing to hospital to be at her husband's side nine years ago. Wasn't it?'

He nods and his forehead shines under the café's lights. He's sweating and I'm glad. He deserves to sweat.

My lip curls. ‘It's a pity she wasn't the only woman who believed she was your wife to turn up.'

‘I never meant to …'

‘What? Have them meet. Of course you didn't.' I laugh but my throat aches. ‘Most men struggle to handle one wife but you …' I shake my head and allow my tone to fill with disgust. ‘You couldn't even stop at two.'

‘I made a mistake.'

‘Several, from what I remember of the headlines.' Bumping into the beautiful Carmella at the hospital was only the beginning. Memories I've kept locked up flood my brain. ‘You were basically married to three different women. How can that happen by mistake?'

‘I was young. Stupid.' His tone is even but his head is bowed. He won't look at me. ‘I'm sorry.'

He sounds sorry but I can't let myself care. ‘You're sorry? I wanted you to die. I was eight and I remember thinking it would have been better if one of the planes you travelled on crashed and then hating myself because more people would have suffered.' I half-snort through my nose as I catch my breath. My blood is pounding in my ears as I wait for him to look up, to at least give me the respect of looking me in the eye. When he does at last I growl at him across the table. ‘But that was nothing, nothing at all compared to how much I hated you.'

I've said it.

I've said the words I've wanted to say for years but it doesn't help. The hole in my heart doesn't fill in. I can't make memories of a father at all those functions where Mum had to pull double duty as both parents. Nothing about this changes the past.

‘I'm sorry.' This time he is looking me in the eye but it still doesn't make it better.

Now the memories won't let me be. He travelled. A lot. Now I know it was probably a sham to keep up his triple life, but then I missed Daddy.

He'd be gone a week at a time and Mum and I would make a special trip to pick him up from the airport. We never imagined that he had another wife halfway across the country, and worse somehow, the beginnings of a whole other family across town.

‘I made freaking signs to welcome you home.'