Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I frowned at my reflection. The dress I was wearing was nice – nice enough so that it wouldn't stand out at brunch.
My grandfather, Robert, had invited us to an upscale restaurant that I'd only ever driven past, never imagining that I might one day eat there.
Still, I couldn't help the simmering indignation I felt dressing up for this man.
Fuck this. I'm wearing pajama pants and a hoodie.
But, as I walked down the hallway past the living room, I caught sight of Mom seated in the armchair.
Jaw clenched, eyes riveted to her phone, she radiated a kind of anger that I'd never seen from her.
"What is it?"
Looking up, her face softened immediately. "Oh, it's nothing."
She's lying?
Walking forward, I leaned against the arm of the couch. "Seriously, what is it?"
Mom sighed, gesturing with her phone, "It's the last message your father ever sent me."
Sick curiosity burned through me. "Can I read it?"
Her reply was immediate. "No."
"Please?"
She let out a humorless laugh. "You can read this when I'm dead. Until then, I don't want you to see this."
"Why?"
Licking her lips, Mom looked up at me. "It's the moment that he showed me his true colors. I'd been so blinded by what we had – by what I thought we had – that I couldn't see who he really was... until I got this."
"Really?"
Sliding her phone into her purse, she nodded. "After I told him about my pregnancy, he put my things out on the front lawn and sent the most vile and vicious string of insults and threats that I have ever seen in my life – you already know some of them, but you don't need to know about the rest."
Shrugging, she looked up, apologetic, "I read it whenever I get to thinking, 'maybe I overreacted', or 'we were just kids'."
I cocked an eyebrow, "Or when you start thinking about giving his shitty, enabling family members a chance?"
Mom snorted, standing as she pulled out her keys. "Look, if I can hear an apology directly from his father's lips, I'll call this a 'win'."
My annoyance faded, and I abandoned my plan to show up looking like I just rolled out of bed.
"Okay. That's the goal, then."
Mom smiled, faintly. "Ready?"
I'll get through this – for her.
"Yeah, just let me grab my purse."
Walking into the restaurant, styled to look like a French bistro, I felt immediately and acutely out of my element. The people sitting in the dining room looked like they ate at these kind of places all of the time – meanwhile I couldn't help but think of most sit-down eateries as 'fancy'.
Following Mom's lead, we walked up to the host's podium and moments later we were being led back to a private dining room where a white-haired man rose to greet us.
So, this is my grandfather.
He was tall, with a frame that suggested an athletic past. He looked like a man trying to maintain an active lifestyle, despite his age.
His eyes turned to me, and I returned his gaze with a measured coolness. I held his stare, almost daring him to look at the grandchild he'd abandoned.
"Well," he glanced back at my mother, "thank you both for agreeing to meet with me; please, sit."
The host pulled out our chairs, staying long enough to take our drink orders. Mom got coffee and a glass of water, and I followed suit.
As the man walked away, a tense silence descended, prompting Robert to try and fill it with genteel conversation.
I sat there, biting my tongue and examining the menu as Mom answered his questions about the basics of our lives.
All the while, I wanted to roll my eyes.
He'd know this, all of it if he'd ever bothered to know us.
In the back of my mind, a small voice reminded me, He's trying now.
The waiter arrived with our drinks, and I fought the urge to order the most expensive dish on the menu, instead going for the quiche du jour with a cup of fresh fruit as the side.
As the waiter walked away, Robert's attention turned to me.
"So, Hailey, you're going to be graduating soon?"
Swallowing the sip of coffee in my mouth, I nodded, "In May."
"Well, that's exciting."
As I looked up, I could almost see the olive branch he was holding out to me.
But I felt no urge to take it.
"I guess."
Next to me, Mom let out a tired sigh.
Undeterred, he continued, "Do you have any post-graduation plans?"
Glancing over to Mom, I read the unspoken admonition in her eyes.
"Uh, just working and taking some community college classes."
"Looking to get your gen eds out of the way before transferring?" His smile was polite and irritating.
I snorted, picking up my mug. "Yeah, sure."
His eyebrows raised, "Oh? You're just going for your associate's? Well, that's a fine place to start – there's so many careers where you can get some training, get on-the-job experience, and then finish your education later." Pausing, he added, "Although, I'm sure you could handle a four-year college. You strike me as a very bright young lady."
Below the table, my hand clenched into a fist.
Setting the mug down, I fixed him with a direct stare. "I'm not going to community college because I think I lack intelligence or because I doubt myself – it's just that if I'm going to pursue a degree, it needs to be something that'll translate into earnings more or less immediately."
He looked taken aback, but once I'd started, I couldn't make myself stop.
"I don't know if you've ever experienced poverty – you know, because I don't know you – but it's not fun. I spent my entire childhood watching Mom bust her ass to keep us afloat and, I don't know, I guess that kind of shaped my life goals?"
Robert's brows drew together, "I'm sorry, what?"
"Oh," I felt my lips curl into a vicious smirk, "that's right, you know all about that, don't you? After all, if he didn't have daddy's money backing him up, your son might have had to pay child support."
"Hailey-" Mom's voice cut through the red haze of anger.
Turning to her, I asked, "What was it that he said? He was going to keep you in court for the rest of your life?" Looking back at my grandfather, I continued, "You know – keep her tied up with lawyers and lawsuits if she ever tried to make him actually be a parent?"
The expression on his face was pure confusion. "I don't understand..."
"Hailey." Mom laid her hand on my arm, weary resignation in her eyes.
Momentary regret flashed through me.
Dammit, wasn't I going to try to play nice?
Too late for that shit now.
"I'm sorry, Mom," I sat back in my chair. "but he wanted to meet up and talk - well, this is what I want to talk about. I want to talk about why he allowed his son to screw us over and what he thinks he can do to make up for it."
Robert's voice pulled my gaze back to him. "You never received child support?"
Mom mutely shook her head while I scoffed, "Oh, like you didn't know-"
"I didn't know that, actually."
I froze, attention riveting on his face. Beside me, I felt Mom doing the same.
"Excuse me?"
His eyes searched ours. "Robbie never paid you anything?"
Mom answered quietly, "We never saw a dime from him."
Standing abruptly, Robert turned to stare out the window.
This man had no idea...
Speaking slowly, I asked, "He told you that he did, didn't he?"
Heaving a deep sigh, Robert admitted, "I just don't understand..."
Mom pulled out her phone, searching as she said, "Here. This should clear things up."
As she held it out to him, my eyes saw the briefest flash of her screen, a wall of angry-looking text.
His last message...
I watched as Robert's eyes scanned over the words, widening as they went on. Seconds passed, and his skin grew ashy with shock.
Fear shot through me - are we going to give this man a heart-attack in this restaurant?
Blinking and dazed, he handed the phone back to my mother, sitting unsteadily back in his chair.
After a tense minute, he muttered, "It seems like I owe you a bigger apology than I realized..."
Silence descended until Mom spoke up, "I'm sorry that you had to find out like this – I genuinely thought you knew-"
His eyes met hers, incredulous, "And you still agreed to meet with me?"
She chuckled ruefully, bringing up her mug for a sip.
"I-" he shook his head, "I'm sorry – I need to go deal with some things and have a conversation with my son." Standing, he pulled out his wallet and laid a wad of bills on the tablecloth. "Please, stay and enjoy brunch. Could we possibly meet again? Sometime soon?"
Mom answered, "Of course..."
"Thank you both, again, for agreeing to meet with me." Pausing, he looked down at my mother's phone. "Could... could you send me a copy of that?"
"I will."
"Thank you."
With that, he rushed out of the private dining room, leaving us stunned in his wake.
Turning to Mom, I felt like both of us were thinking the same question:
What the fuck?