Can the music. Something is not right here. He opens his eyes, frowns at the offending digit, and then at her face now more distant. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "but we can't."
Ever had that deflated feeling? Well for Warwick, someone really let the air out of his balloon.
"Don't get me wrong, I really really love you but ... "
"But? What?"
“You’re my father."
…
Everyone has a summer of love. His was way back in 1994.
She was a red headed beauty with a singsong voice, a cheeky smile and eyes filled with laughter. They were in love even before the first words were spoken. Flirtive glances exchanged from the other side of the beach fire, the dinner table, conversations anywhere anytime.
In no time, their hands touched. Not long after that everything else got touched as well. They made love under the stars – all that kind of stuff. It was the best summer of his life. It would remain the best summer of his life for many years to come. They even started taking about a future. Wow, he was going to have a future! Cool!
But when the first clouds of Autumn bruised the horizon, she was gone.
He waited. Day after day, he would return to their favourite spot in the hope that she would suddenly appear and fall into his arms telling him how much she missed him and they would never be apart ever again. But each day he returned home alone. It was a summer thing, that was all. He never saw or heard from her again. His one true love had gone. It hurt and twenty years later it still hurt.
He never learnt to move on. He receded into the safety of boring routine and like a chameleon, took on its persona. The years crept by. Nothing exciting happened to Warwick mostly because he never again put himself in a position where exciting things could happen.
All those years … all those lost years.
…
Warwick collapsed into his favourite chair, which actually was the couch, it being the only sitting piece of furniture in his flat. He had an astounded look on his face. Not the same astounded look he had when she suggested that they should go out again way back when. This was like his whole life had been turned upside down kind of astounded.
Daughter? Daughter? I have a daughter? But we only did it once … well two or three times … every day for a month … all that time ago … and I have a daughter? WTF?
I suppose I could say something like WTF stands for Wow That’s Fantastic but you know what it really stands for don’t you kiddies? Of course you do.
Its moments like these that one needs to be alone and sweet Juliette respectively gave him his time. There was a lot to take in. It’s not every day that a guy finds out that he is a father except if course in certain suburbs of Western Sydney where finding out you are a father is about as regular as getting the dole. I exaggerate … actually, I don't!
There was also the issue that he had spent an inordinate amount of time not only staring at his own daughter but fantasising about her as well ... all those things he wanted to do to her. I’m not going to go into detail but wow I’m sure some of that may actually be illegal … and certainly painful! Right about now would be a good time for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. Actually swallowing whole was one of … no stop that … she is your daughter damn it!
How does one resolve that guilt? Thank God he isn't a Catholic otherwise he would need to book a confessional for at least a week! What does he do now? Start telling her to cover up more? How does a father be a father to a kid he didn’t know he had and who is already an adult and clearly knows how to take care of herself? Better than him in fact! This is way beyond anything he had ever experienced but then again, so were most things.
It is fair to say that Warwick didn't handle change well. It is also fair to say that commercial tv is crap. That has nothing to do with this story, it’s just something I felt the need to express. Anyway, the next time they met was a bit awkward. A different kind of awkward to the first time they met but still awkward. Kinda understandable given the circumstance. It was time to talk and there was so much to talk about.
…
They sat by the river close to each other as if to make sure the rest of the world didn’t hear them. They talked about her mother and what happened to her in the later years.
“... she had been sick for a long time. She thought it was from guilt, that she was being punished for leaving you like that. Silly woman. She knew you loved her and I think she found it a bit too scary to take so she ran away.”
He nodded his head, “I did love her. I thought she was the one.”
She nodded.
“Deep down I think she felt the same way. That just made her feel even more guilt.”
“But guilt doesn’t kill people.”
“No … but cancer does and we couldn’t exactly afford the best of care.”
She hung her head, “I spend much of my life watching her slip away from me. In the end, the accident saved us both many years of suffering.”
She turned away so he wouldn’t see her cry. He grabbed his handkerchief and turned her face towards him so he could wipe away the tears. At that moment, their roles were reversed. She was the one in need and he was in control. It was an unusual feeling for Warwick but one he quite relished. He didn't ask too much about the accident, it clearly still upset her.
She regained her composure.
“Once she was laid to rest I was free to find you. It took a while but here I am … your daughter.”
Juliette wasn’t telling him the whole story but that was OK. He didn't need to know everything, not yet anyway.
…
As time went by, what was once unusual became the norm and Warwick became used to the idea that he had a daughter. He also became used to the idea that he was never going to have sex with the most beautiful woman he had ever met. That sort of thing is not the go in civilised society. As for other places ... well.
Warwick had to deal with some pretty major changes over the last few weeks and to be fair he had come out the other end pretty much intact. Especially considering he was on the verge of committing suicide not that long ago.
But underneath it was still Warwick. Sure, it was a slightly better dressed Warwick but it was basically Warwick and that was the problem. Deep down, he wanted to fill that ever-present feeling that there must be more. But deep down there was that thing that was stopping him. The ever-present barrier, himself. He would never be truly happy because he just wouldn’t allow it to happen.
Juliette had tried to make him think differently but he just wouldn’t. Just when she thought she was close, he would retreat back into his shell and she would have to start all over again. It was so frustrating. One afternoon it came to a head.
She had been trying to wean him off the crap that had consisted of his regular diet. A long time ago, Warwick had made the decision to outsource his regular dietary requirements to a clown, a deceased colonel and various other dubious fauna that whored their wares on the TV and it was no easy task reforming him. It was almost as if he was resisting the possibility of becoming a better version of himself.
Anyway, it was a Sunday and she was in his apartment as he tended to spend much of her time. She was watching him tearing half a chicken to pieces for just a minute longer than she could take.
“You know, considering that you are a doctor, shouldn’t you be taking better care of yourself?”
“I’m not a doctor, I’m a dentist.”
“You still look after people’s health, what’s the difference?”
“Teeth.”
“What?”
“I just look after their teeth.”
Pause.
“So why didn’t you become a doctor?”
“I didn’t think I could do it.”
“So you thought this was all you could do?"
“I seemed to be the right choice at the time.”
“And does that make you happy?”
He stopped ripping the flesh from the bone and stared at her.
“I remind you of the first time we met.”
“But you have a skill."
"That no one appreciates."
"No one here perhaps."
"That's what I'm saying. No one here appreciates me."
"That's what I am saying, no one here.
"Yes that's right, no one here."
"No you don't understand what I am saying. No one ... here."
"I understand perfectly, no one … here appreciates me.
She slaps a palm against her head in frustration and yells at him, "THEN LEAVE!"
"What?"
"Leave ... go ... get out of here."
“And go where?”
“Does it matter? Go explore the world. Find your destiny. There’s nothing for you here. All you are doing is slowly killing yourself going through the motions … you aren’t happy … you aren’t living.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I remind you of the first time we met.”
Pause.
Why is she always right?
He drops the now picked clean bone on to his plate.
“Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t want to. I just…” He stopped and then with a resigned voice admitted the truth.
“I’m … too scared … I just can’t deal with change.”
“Really? Two months ago you didn't know you have a daughter, you got used to that OK."
Only just, but this was too much, he was being forced to deal with too much. It’s one thing to be miserable with your present life, it’s another to actually have the guts to do something about it.
“I … can’t. I … just …can’t.”
She makes a noise that sounds a bit like a randy moose and storms out of the apartment, down the stairs and out into the alley. And in case you are wondering, no I don't actually know what a randy moose sounds like. Make up a sound that you think represents a randy moose and apply it to this situation. Alternatively, ask a friend, when you are having coffee together at some fancy cafe to emulate what they think a randy moose sounds like. Pick the best one and apply it, then decide if you still want them as a friend.
She paces back and forth clenching her fists in frustration. Stupid. Stupid! She had become impatient and pushed him too far too fast. Maybe this was too big a job for her. Maybe she should have never have tried to interfere. But she couldn’t let two parents die filled with regret not without trying. What to do? She closes her eyes and silently calls for help ... inspiration ... something. She opens her eyes again. Nope ... nothing.
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the shadowy figure lurking in the … well … shadows but he saw her and had one thing on his mind. He steps out of the shadows although the title of shadowy figure remains due to his intent.
“Hello sweetheart.”
Startled she jumps.
“What do you want?”
“C'mon darlin', I'm a dark shadowy figure with one thing on my mind, what you reckon I want?”
“Stay away from me.”
“Now, that’s not going to happen.”
He lunges at her. She jumps out of the way scratching his face in the process. Now she has her back to a recessed doorway. She tries the handle … damn … locked. Nowhere to run.
His face folds into a snarl as he feels the blood trickle down his cheek. His hand clenches into a fist and he steps towards her. She watches him raise his fist ready to strike. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and waits for the inevitable.