9 Chapter 9

After I composed myself from my angry thoughts and mixed joy, I agreed to get out of the street and talk with my father. I had always thought that if one day I would have this opportunity, I would be jumping with questions and happiness. But I felt the opposite. I felt like I had never met my father. Like he was just another stranger.

"Thank you," I mutter when a door is pulled open for me.

I take a seat at the same table I was at before, my father sitting on the chair opposite me with a smile that could light up an entire room. Just like a child, his lips had lifted upward creating two crinkling dimples on the edge of his cheeks.

I used to love when he smiled. There was always something about it that made everything else around us, seem like it would turn out okay. Because that's who he was to me: someone who always made the world seem just a little brighter.

Back home, countless photos hung up on frames painted the walls. But after he left, my mother began taking one down each day. I would fall asleep to ten beautiful memories and wake up to nine, mocking and taunting me for the fact that I didn't have him anymore.

"Emma?" His voice snapped me out and into the coffee shop again.

"Sorry," I take away my eyes and lower them onto my nervous hands under the table.

"What would you like to start with first?" He placed his fidgeting hands over and under the table as he searched my face as if somewhere, he would find treasure.

"Um... I- I don't know..." I tell him truthfully. Where should I begin? How do I even start a conversation like this? Overwhelmed, my blood quickly became hot and rushed to my cheeks within seconds.

"It's okay," His eyes wrinkled in a smile. "How about we start with you? How are you finding college? Your mother told me it's your first year, that's a really big step!" His voice matched with his expression of cheeriness.

"It's good." I replied softly. I kept my head down and my stare fixed on my hands because I was scared that if I looked at him, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from tears.

"What's your major?" He asked.

I struggled to answer him this time. Hurdles of my own questions were beginning to spring into my mind and I gnawed at my cheek between thoughts to keep them in.

"English." I swallow the lump in my throat.

"Emma... say it." He called out. "I know you want to ask something, so just ask. That's what I'm here for."

I pressed my lips and shut my eyes tightly. Now, I raised my head, taking a deep breath and speaking out to what I had in my mind.

"Would you do it again?" I could barely see past the sight of my hands from the blur of the salty puddles, but I wanted to see his expression when he answered.

His loud sigh and slumped shoulders told me he wasn't proud of his next response, but he straightened his shoulders and cupped his large, warm hands over my small ones, ready to speak.

"Emma, I can't answer that..." He said.

"I need you to," I croaked out. "Please."

This time, he was the one that lowered his head and hid away his eyes.

"I would have done things differently... so... so differently, but yes... I would do it again." He waited impatiently to see if I would say anything else, but when I didn't, he seemed worried. "Do you have any other questions?" I shook my head, letting myself ease into the conversation.

"Do you still work in the construction company?" When I changed the subject, I noticed the way his chest deflated in relief and his posture changed into a slightly slouching, comfortable one.

"Err, no, I don't... when I left, I quit my job and moved to a different city. There, I got a job at Business Company and I've been there since." He took a breath, as if he was going to need it to continue his sentence. "A few weeks after I started my new job, I met someone who helped me out with living expenses at the time... she and I became close and we started to date..." My father's eyes mapped out my face. "A few years later, we married... and some time after that, she fell pregnant. As you know, he is a boy."

I chewed on the insides of my cheeks at the mention of his little boy and wife.

"Is it okay if I know his name?" My hands intertwined with each other and stilled on my pressed thighs.

"His name is Gabriel, and he is seven years old." He said with another smile, though this one was proud. "And my wife, her name is Barbara, but we call her barb."

"They sound wonderful," I half-whispered.

"They are, they really... really are."

"Do they... do they know about me?"

"They do. However, I didn't want you to meet until I knew there could be a chance for you to stay... I don't want to give them false hope and then crush them because I couldn't be a good father to you. It wouldn't be fair..."

I always knew I had a brother. I always knew that he remarried, but meeting them was never something I thought about. Constantly, I saw them as people who had taken something away from my life. They were meaningless without names, and now, they were family.

I straightened my back with tensed muscles.

"Do you think that, maybe, one day, I could meet them...? Gabriel and Barbara?"

My father's face lit up with an undeniable happiness.

"Yes! Of course you can!" Finally, a smile tugged at my lips.

It was nice to know that between all of our issues and bad memories, there could be space for any good. Honestly, being here terrified me. I didn't know what answers I would and wouldn't get. But for the most part, suddenly the idea of spending an afternoon with my father didn't seem so scary anymore. After all, he was just as afraid as I was.