The air was cold as father and son faced off. They never seemed to be close, and I had a feeling Art’s constant absence was to blame. Even so, Angel was more like his father than anyone would have guessed.
“Baby girl,” my father warmly greeted. His arms were open as he moved away from the window. Like a true father’s girl, I rushed into them like I hadn’t just seen him hours ago. My anger over him leaving again was forgotten. Over the last two weeks, I became the center of his world again while Angel took a break. I didn’t doubt that it was me he needed a break from. He was only supposed to be gone a week, but much to Art’s irritation, he was gone for two.
“I thought you had to leave? Are you staying longer?” I asked with hope in my voice. The pain in his eyes told me my answer before he spoke. “It’s okay if you can’t. I know—”
A mocking laugh cut short the excuse I was willing to make for my father. Angel watched our exchange with his face twisted from disgust.
“This isn’t your business,” Daddy growled.
Angel didn’t appear fazed. “Mian is my business. She certainly isn’t yours.”
“Angeles!” His father roared. I drew back, but Angel didn’t even flinch. He never took his hard gaze from my dad. “Come with me to the kitchen.” Angel didn’t budge at first, but one look at me had him retreating to the kitchen with his father.
I was fighting back the tears even though I wasn’t surprised. Over the years, Angel had become increasingly hostile toward Daddy. I didn’t know if he truly cared about my father’s absence in my life or if he was holding a grudge for being stuck with me.
“Baby girl.” I didn’t realize I was staring even after Angel disappeared until I heard my father call my name.
“Yes, Daddy?”
“You know I would stay if I could.”
You can. You just don’t want to. “I know.” I smiled, but I didn’t feel it. My father would leave me no matter what I said or felt, so I chose to be silent and numb.
“I enjoyed these last couple of weeks. You’ve grown into a young woman so fast.” Or maybe it’s because I can count on one hand how many times a year I get to see you. “You’re old enough to take care of yourself now. Maybe better than I or anyone can.”
I frowned and stared into my father’s troubled eyes. What was he saying?
I didn’t get to ask. That feeling whenever Angel was near had returned, and I found him hovering in the doorway. His glare was filled with hate and fixed on Daddy. I tore my attention away from Angel and found Daddy staring back. There was worry etched in his features.
“What’s going on?” I directed to my father.
“Sprite.” Angel wouldn’t speak again until he had my full attention. “Let’s go.”
“What?”
“I want to get out of here. You coming?” The doorway was empty before I could even form a response. I stared at the empty space wondering what was happening. In minutes, it felt as if my entire world had shifted.
“You should go.”
I faced my father again and let my disbelief shine through. “I should go?”
“He looks like he could use the company.” When I continued to stare, he added, “Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Uh… okay.”
He smiled, but it was sad. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He kissed my forehead and then he was gone. The house was too silent. I took slow steps out of the house and found Angel standing by his car. His head hung, and his hands were shoved in his pockets. Suddenly, his head lifted, and I was surprised to find his eyes blank.
What the hell was going on ? I slowly repeated to myself.
“Where are we going?”
“Pete’s,” he simply said and started down the block on foot. I fell in step next to him. Pete’s had the best burgers in all of Chicago. It was only a couple of blocks away, and on weekends, you could find most of the neighborhood hanging around the restaurant since there was a skating rink next door.
Halfway there, memories of our kiss seeped into my mind.
For a moment, he was almost mine.
I touched my lips and peeked up at him. He looked deep in thought, his body tense as he led us with long strides. When we got to Pete’s, he chose our seats. We ordered as soon as the waiter came since we both always got the same thing. An extra cheesy bacon burger with a side of fries and a strawberry milkshake.
“Is everything okay?”
“Your father is a prick,” he said through a french fry he was chewing.
“Do you hate him because of me?”
He shook his head and stuffed more fries in his mouth. If he wasn’t so hot, I would be turned off by his lack of table manners. “I hate him because he’s a prick.”
“Your father ain’t a peach either.”
“I know, but the difference is, I don’t care. You do.”
“He’s your father. Of course, you care.”