"No. He can't be your father. How could he be without us knowing?!" He seemed overly frantic, now pacing the length of the pavement in front of us shaking his head continuously.
"Probably because he doesn't know I exist. My mother said they ended their relationship before she found out she was pregnant with me. By then she had no way to contact him."
Dave stopped pacing and looked me over just as intensely as before but this time it was from head to toe. I've seen many looks on this guy's face in the few years that I've know him but never this one. In a matter of seconds he's gone from a look of disbelief to one of hopeful then recognition before his brows lowered and his lips parted. "Why didn't we notice..."
I assumed he wasn't talking to me but rather himself so I decided it was best that I not say anything and just let him deal with his emotions. I can't say that I understand them completely but I think I have an idea of what he might be feeling considering minutes ago he was asking me out indirectly. Dave stood in front of me with one hand absently held over his mouth while the other falling loosely at his side. He's staring. Just staring at me until his eyes lower to the ground, "You want to meet him?"
I know he didn't mean to sound so bitter when he spoke but the emotion is there and can't be hidden. I didn't answer right away, not because of his tone but because this is something I've never considered. Of course as a child I would always ask my mother questions about him and ponder when I'd get to meet him but now that the opportunity is being presented to me there are more questions and concerns that I never considered.
What would he think of me, his daughter, working as a stripper? Not just any stripper but one working in his brother's bar? Also, what do you say to a man you've never known but have a genetic bond with? 'Hey, you're my Daddy. Love me please?' Not twenty plus years after the fact. It's silly to even have the notion that we'd have a normal father and daughter relationship now but sadly, I still want that. I would be surprised if he didn't say he needed a DNA test. That raises another question that I never gave thought to before this point. What if he's not my real Dad? I knew my mother as this woman that went all out for me and did what she had to do to play both roles as Mommy and Daddy but whose to say she wasn't with another man? I would never do anything to tarnish my mother's image but the fact remains that I wasn't there and let's face it, who would actually tell their child that more than one man could be their father?
I was looking at his face picking out the many different emotions but I'm sure mine are shining through just as brightly right now. I want to meet my father and any family that I may gain through him but I need some time to at least prepare for many different reactions.
"I can't...right now."
Dave, now looking as if he's received the worse news ever quirks his brow at me, "He's going to want to meet you when he finds out you exist."
"Then we need to make sure he doesn't find out just yet, now don't we?" I fired back instantly giving him my best serious face. I need this more than I've need anything. Just a little bit of time to prepare myself. Him saying he's going to want to meet me provides me with a little bit of comfort but still. He could very well meet me, look me in the eyes and say I'm not his. That would hurt. No doubt it would feel like the death of another parent and I can't handle that just yet
"It's been long enough, don't you think?" His retort was just as quick as my own.
"That's not the point. I said I'm not ready Dave so leave it alone!" I turned away from him only to be grabbed by my elbow. Without being too harsh I pulled away from him and started off down the street. Thankfully the rain has slowed to a slight drizzle. Still, I pulled my hood up over my head a little further to try to protect what's left of my straightened hair. As I approached the busy intersection that would take me the short two blocks to my highrise, I decided I didn't want to go home. Being along will only leave me with time to think and I can say right now that that thinking won't be positive. Somehow I'll come up with more reasons why I shouldn't meet the man that I've know as my father all this time.
I discovered on my way over to the nursing home that there is a bar just around the corner from my place. Basically working in one has always turned me off to those places but since I don't want to go home just yet, a drink with a bunch of strangers doesn't sound so bad.
When I walked into the pretty well kept watering hole the first thing I noticed was the crowd. These aren't men like the ones that come into Lou's bar. There are women here and instead of loud music, hoots, and hollers, they're sitting down talking like civilized humans. For that reason I had no issues just walking in and taking a seat at the bar. Hanging my jacket on the back of the tall chair I glanced around the room still not believing the calm atmosphere. It reminds me so much of an English bar with the way everything is decorated and how calm everyone is. So into the look and feel of this place I barely noticed the handsome bartender standing in front of me.
"I'm sorry!" I shook my head laughing off my embarrassment.
"No worries, Love. Whatcha having?" A big part of me wanted to say 'you' but I think he could tell that I was suddenly screwing him with my eyes. The smile he shot me says so anyway. This stool is probably a few inches under five-feet tall but still he towers over me as I sit upon it. Light brown eyes against spiked blonde hair and tanned skin has him looking like a piece of candy I wouldn't mind biting.
"Do you have Angry Orchard?" It took everything I had not to purr that or say it seductively. He nodded quickly with a wink then disappeared behind the other bartenders. I went back to scanning the room while my mind played over the idea of taking a bite out of that bartender and my heart ached for something or someone unknown. It's weird but even before that discovery, when Dave asked me to dinner I felt wrong. Just as wrong as I feel now like I'm thinking about cheating on someone.
The bartender came back with a sixteen ounce glass of the amber liquid that was quickly becoming my favorite. Bonnie first introduced it to me months ago but since it has the ability to sneak up on you I decided it was best if I not drink it before showtime. However, I'm going home after this so this glass may be just the first of many.
Halfway through the glass I started to feel the effects of it. My head was a little light and already my worries about my father and Dave's reaction were like a fart in the breeze, no longer lingering and almost forgotten. By the time I finished it off, I had no concerns at all. To make sure I'm able to go home on my own I stood up beside the bar stool and even walked a few feet away. My head is even lighter now but I can still see straight and count backwards from twenty. Reclaiming my position on the stool I motioned the hot bartender over to request another drink. I swear if he would've winked at me this time I would've said 'to hell with my morals', waited until his shift was over, and took him home with me.
I can see it now. Starting out in my living room on that soft white carpet as I run my hands along his smooth tanned back. He looks like he has a nice body underneath that thermal shirt and I'm willing to bet he has at least a six-pack. With him nowhere in sight I couldn't undress him with my eyes so I had to make due with the image of him standing in front of me when taking my order. Too bad I didn't look down to get and idea of what his--
"Here ya go, Love." Obviously started out of those thoughts I had to throw on a smile to play it off.
"Um, how much? I'll just pay now before I'm too out of it to count." My embarrassment came through in laughter once again and probably a deep pink tinting my cheeks.
"It's already paid for." He then placed a very pretty exotic looking pink and purple flower down next to the glass and nodded to the far corner of the bar. When I looked over there it was so cluttered with people that it wasn't clear who he was motioning to.
"Who?" I stood with my feet on the wooden rung to try and see over the people.
"The tall one with long hair. Black shirt." Narrowing my search I began my search yet again but saw no one. Maybe it's the drink working already. "He's over there somewhere." He said before moving down the bar to take care of the people that's just sat down. I gave up after a few seconds of seeing no man in there with long hair and a black shirt. Looking down at the flower seemed to add something to the aching in my heart. It looks so familiar to me yet I can't place where I've seen this flower before. My mother and I used to plant flowers as our form of bonding and through that I've pretty much studied flowers. This looks tropical and like the type of plant that would only grow in warm climates yet the steam is a bright green and it's very much still alive. I picked it up, held it to my nose and the scent matched it perfectly. I don't know who gave me this but they have no idea of the smile they just provided me with.
As soon as I finished my second drink I made my way home with the flower in one hand and the picture of my parents in the other. The whole point of going to get a drink was to clear my head but as the alcohol in the apple cider tasting drink started to sink in I found myself thinking about the situation ahead of me. I don't think I can survive being rejected by my father but I think I shouldn't prolong this meeting. If he is going to turn me away then I need to get it over with as soon as possible so I can move on with my life.
By the time I reached home it was getting dark out and my building was alight like a hotel. I love the way the halls are lit with wall candles and decorated with white calla lilies so after the elevator stopped on my floor I walked in a rather slow pace to my apartment, taking in the beauty of it. That didn't last long considering my apartment is one of the only two on the fourth floor. Rounding the corner I stopped mid-step as my eyes landed on what was in front of my door. A shiny crystal vase filled with the same type of flowers like the one I held in my hand sat on my welcome mat with a bright red ribbon and a white card.
I picked up the card first and instantly noticed that there was a scent on it. Cologne. Men's cologne, and it's just like the smell that was on the shirt I woke up in earlier. Deep, masculine, and so intoxicating that I didn't realize my eyes were closed while taking in the aroma until my eyes reopened. Like these flowers, the smell seems so familiar to me. Even more familiar are the words written neatly on the card addressed to me.
"A beautiful woman once told me, you send a woman flowers when you want to gain her attention. Do I have yours, Querida?"
Querida. Sweetheart. My heart pounds wildly against my ribs, beating a mile a minute and I don't know why. Something about that word hits me hard and furthers the feeling that I am missing someone. I don't know when and where I heard it before but I swear that means something so much more than a term of endearment. Whoever they are wants to know if they have my attention. With all the unknown feelings and sense of familiarity seemingly coming out of nowhere, they have my attention. Every single bit of it.