Blueprint

Part 13 - Budding

Sighing heavily again, I turn away from him and stare off into space again, finding a few bumblebees interesting as they fly over a variety of flowering plants. "I could transfer to Caltech," I suggest in a mumble.

"You want to go to California?" He asks with slight disbelief, surprised. I don't look at him, and instead continue to eat my ice cream in stubborn silence. "You know you have to apply as a transfer, which is tricky in itself. I mean, the fact that you were previously accepted is good, and you're doing well in Georgetown...you might have a chance. But Athena, if we're talking financially and practically..."

"I can take out the loans. And practically...I had a dream. And it was ruined. Now, I keep thinking, what if I went to Caltech. What if...I got to experience it...I could be doing a lot more than I am right now," I confess quickly, not missing a beat as I unravel the psychological trauma of this entire discovery. This was an easier discussion to have because this was my father. He was involved in my life, but not really involved. He was sometimes a parent, and sometimes a friend. Most people wouldn't think anyone could be both those things at once for their children. Oddly enough, my father seems to be a pendulum between both. He decides when he wants to be one or the other, and I can't pick which one I want to talk to.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he inhales deeply before stating, "I don't know about the loan thing. But if this is something you want to do, I'm all for it. We'll figure it out."

"I'll figure it out, dad. You know that," I remind him.

Deciding to ignore my subtle allusion to the fact that he is not a constant presence in my life regardless of his insistence on helping me, he shakes his head and questions, "Where have you been staying this entire time?"

There it was. A question that required a lie for an answer. I was not going to tell him about Harry, the internship my mother has forced me into, or the situations surrounding the two. I purse my lips and steadily replied, "I'm staying with a friend from school."

"You have a friend?" He suddenly jokes. I scoff and he chuckles as a result. "I'm just kidding. That's very kind of your friend, but you have a home that you need to go back to."

"Yeah, you're right," I conclude, shrugging my shoulders. "That's why my stuff is already at mom's."

Eyebrows raised, he frowns over at me in slight surprise. "You already moved back?"

"This morning," I nodded.

That wasn't a lie. Harry had left early, and I know he will return to his apartment seeing that all evidence of my stay is completely gone. I have decided to keep Harry out of my family drama, seeing that there were other pressing things he needed to focus on, and my problems were not a priority. Plus, I was still uncertain of what kind of boundaries we had. I know we stated our terms, and that honesty was a key takeaway from our conversation. He'd eventually figure it out, and when he does, then that conversation will follow. For now, I was confused about the direction of my life more than ever. That was my priority.

My father and I continue our walk. The ice cream now completely gone, we walk around the campus and make our way out to the surrounding streets, our conversation ranging from news in politics and recent developments in the world of science. Our usual topics. I'm not as vigilant of our surroundings as I'm listening to him talk about the curriculum he's building for STEM teachers, and we just happen to walk by the firm.

Outside pulls up a car I know belongs to Harry, simply because Johnson is in the driver's seat of the otherwise fully tinted SUV. I raise an eyebrow, slowing my pace as my father is clearly unfazed by the passing building. The door of the jet-black SUV opens and out comes Harry; his hair brushed back neatly, his light facial hair trimmed, and body encased in a black suit. A lump grows in my throat, my anxiety spiking drastically. Then another figure exits the vehicle, a woman with jet-black, pin-straight hair, almond-shaped dark eyes, and a rather stoic expression. She is dressed in a crisp white blazer and pencil skirt, the neatness and immaculate appearance of her exterior curiously flawless. I stare with growing suspicion, wondering who the middle-aged woman was. I'm lost in my wandering thoughts when I hear my father loudly scoff.