Jon
“Lydia’s gone.”
I almost thought Patrick was trying to make a joke when he first said it, at least until I realized that he looked like he was about to have a panic attack. “She went to her apartment, I’m sure she’s just sleeping,” I told him with a shrug and glancing back down at my laptop. “You know she sleeps more when she’s stressed.”
“It’s three in the afternoon and she hasn’t returned any texts since yesterday when I texted her goodnight.” The rising note of panic in his voice was concerning.
I gestured helplessly. “Maybe she just wants some time alone, she’ll call when she’s ready. Don’t smother her.”
“She complained about us being emotionally absent for two months,” he snapped. “She doesn’t suddenly want space; I think she went to see her mum.”
“What?” My head snapped up at that and my stomach plummeted. “Why would you say that?”
He looked sheepish as he rubbed his neck and glanced away. “She uh, told me on the trip back that she wanted to go confront her mum…”
“Why the fuck am I just hearing about this now?” I demanded. I surged to my feet so fast the room spun for a minute. “What did you say?”
“I just told her to cool her jets and think about it—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I snarled while stomping out of the room. “You basically gave the go ahead for her to just leave without telling us. You realize that, right?”
“Where are you going?”
I didn’t answer, just continued silently fuming while heading towards the walk-in closet. Maritza wanted to see me, and she was my primary concern right now – Lydia problem number eight thousand needed to wait. A few minutes later, as I was pouring through different shirts, Patrick sauntered in behind me.
“What did I do?” he asked, arms crossed and leaning on the doorjamb.
“You told an impulsive twenty-three-year-old to think about her actions. I raised a child, Patrick, I know that kind of shit just lights a fire under their ass.” I hated comparing Lydia to my daughter, and I tried as hard as possible to never have any parenting type moments with her, but with an issue like this I couldn’t help the comparison. “We just have to wait for her to call us…”
“What if she doesn’t?” he pressed. “Then what?”
“Then we hire a P.I. to track her location and kidnap her.” Patrick visibly paled, his light brown skin going ashen, I couldn’t help but snicker and look away as I pulled on a dark blue button-up. “I’m joking, lighten up.”
He watched me wordlessly, following my every motion while I got dressed. When he finally spoke again, he sounded sad and nervous, “I’m going to see my mum later tonight, she wanted me to bring Lydia…”
“Lucy will understand when you tell her, and you know good and well that Lydia isn’t gone forever.”
“One of these times will be the last time.”
I froze, my fingers frozen on my cufflinks. “It isn’t like that, Pat,” I told him as evenly as I could.
“She always leaves and then doesn’t answer my calls, but she answers yours, and now you’re telling me that I pushed her away—”
No. This wasn’t turning into a pity party in my closet. Turning around, I grabbed his head between my hands and pulled his face closer to mine, making him really look at me. “I don’t know how to explain to you that she is young, that she doesn’t see needing space and ignoring phone calls the same way you do. She isn’t leaving you; she isn’t leaving me; she’s trying to do what she thinks she needs to do and doesn’t realize that might hurt other people.”
“I never did anything—”
“You did,” I interrupted flatly. “I guarantee you made the same choices; you just don’t want to think about it.”
His defeated look turned into a heated glare as he huffed and pulled away. “I hate that she’s right,” he muttered while walking away.
Grinning, I grabbed my suit jacket and shoes as I trailed behind him. “See, I can’t get Maritza to say I’m right, so I need you two to tell me instead.”
“Fuck off.”
Laughing loudly I grabbed his arm and pulled him back towards me. “I have to go see Mari, I’ll be back in a bit.” Without warning I leaned forward and kissed his cheek, he stilled for a second and then slipped his hand into mine, squeezing lightly. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” I teased with a wink.
“It’s still weird, and it’s really fucking weird how casual you are about it,” Patrick answered.
I shrugged and grabbed my phone. “Three hours, I’ll be back for dinner.”
“You’re on your own for dinner, I’m meeting mum. I just told you that.”
“Fine, then find us something to watch for when you get back.”
I couldn’t stay longer, if I was late to see Maritza, she might never talk to me again. As it was, I was glad that it didn’t take as long this time around for her to start talking to me after a blowout. Patrick flopped down on the bed and rubbed his face anxiously, I cast him a short wave before grabbing my car keys and taking the elevator down to the garage.
One disappointing part of the media firestorm was that the Pullman was a target, paparazzi knew how to spot the car and were on the lookout for it. This meant I had to drive myself, not horrible thing to do, but I didn’t do it often and I was a bit nervous to be taking the Rolls Royce Dawn convertible out. I drove Lydia’s car home for her, but that was a tiny beat up Toyota – I loved her, but that car was easily replaceable. The beauty sitting in my parking space was not.
Maritza and I were meeting at a rooftop bar in the city for drinks and to talk about the hard stuff. I would’ve rather had her over to the apartment, but I understood that she wanted something more neutral. The bar was empty when I got there and I spotted her sitting across the room. Mari’s hair had been razored even shorter – a sign that she was frustrated – now reaching her chin and I could see that her makeup was rather heavy today. With her cropped leather jacket and short red dress she looked exactly like her mother when we met. My heart ached as I approached her and tried to keep a straight face.
“Papa,” she greeted, kissing my cheek before sitting back down. “How was the Bahamas?”
I took my seat across from her and rested my hands on the table. I felt like I was about to be interviewed. “Quiet, a lot quieter than New York. I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk before I left.”
We sat there in silence, not really looking at each other and unsure how to start the conversation. It was awkward between us, and I would have taken her yelling at me over the way she avoided looking at me right now. A few minutes later the waiter arrived, and I ordered a drink. Just one, I reasoned. I would be fine to drive if I limited myself.
“So, is it true?” Maritza asked as soon as the waiter was gone. “Are you leaving mama?”
Oh god. “I’m not leaving her,” I said, trying not to let myself get emotional in front of my baby girl. “We’re divorcing, finally, but I’m not abandoning her.” Christine was a constant in my life, she had never been gone for more than a week at most, and even now I couldn’t fathom her not being there all the time.
“Oh…” She still didn’t look at me, just played with her napkin and bounced her foot. “I never thought it would actually happen.”
I wished I had a better answer for her, I wished I could tell her that I still cared about Christine and wanted to make it work – but that wasn’t the case. I did love Chris, she would always be a part of my life and mother of my daughter, but we had never been right for each other and now we had new people. Mari always tried to play it off as not a big deal, and even now I could see her trying to push through it.
“Punky,” I said quietly, reaching across the table for her hand. “No matter what, we still love you.”
She glanced up and smiled shakily at me, her eyes watering which she immediately fought to stop the tears. “So, um, I guess I have questions about you and Lydia…and Patrick.”
Now I just wished I could jump out the window. “I figured as much. Ask me whatever you need to.”
“Did she cheat on you?” Mari demanded, looking as if she’d hunt Lydia down herself if that was the case.
“No, no, I knew about them.” Fuck me, why was this so awkward to admit out loud? Mari knew that her mother saw other men while we were together, but for some reason it was harder to own up to now that it was just an interest of mine. I took a sip of my scotch and stared blankly at the wall behind her. Liquid courage was definitely the way to go.
“Is this a religious thing then?”
Or not, because I immediately choked on the drink. “Oh dear god, no, I’m not polygamous.” What’s the other word? It was new to me, but Lydia used it often, Christine and I had just called it swinging. I sure as hell wasn’t telling my daughter that I was a swinger.
“Is he, like, dating her?” she asked, a slow blush creeping across her cheeks.
“…Yes,” I said hesitantly. “He is, we both are. It’s new, and I know you probably don’t want to—"
“I dated Patrick,” she blurted. “Not like, you know, dated but we…dated kind of…”
My stomach lurched and room tilted sideways. What cruel joke is this? What did I do to deserve this? “You…were with Patrick?” I asked, trying to clarify without saying out loud my worst fear.
“Only twice, a few years ago, it’s not important now but it just…” she trailed off and shrugged, a furious blush coloured her cheeks. “It’s fucked up that she gets my father and my ex,” Maritza finished finally.
I had no urge to go blasting my relationship with Patrick around the world, but it made me more than a little queasy to think that he had been with my daughter. Christine could not ever find this out, I could already feel her vice-like grip on my balls if she did. But I didn’t know what Mari wanted me to say about her comment, nothing about my relationships were changing just because she felt they were unfair. Squirming in my seat, I cleared my throat.
“Have you and Lydia spoken at all since this came out?”
Maritza looked a little relieved to move on from that specific issue, at least for now. “She texted me last night, but this is the first time since before you guys left New York. Why?”
“Well,” I started and then paused. “Lydia left last night, she’s on a personal mission and she isn’t answering our calls… If you think of it, will you text her later? Just ask her to call when she’s ready.”
“What kind of ‘mission’?” she asked as she leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms.
I couldn’t help my smirk as I took in her stand-off pose, every inch of her radiated Christine. “She’s gone to see her mother in California.”
“Oh.”
Maritza didn’t say anything else and we both continued to sit there for a while longer in the silence. I wanted her to be happy, and I wanted her to be happy for me, but I knew it wouldn’t happen overnight. As long as she was still willing to talk to me, I figured I could live with that.
“Punky,” I murmured as we got up and I pulled her in for a hug. “I don’t want you to think that you don’t matter to me, or that I don’t care. I love you so much…” I was going to cry if I continued, so I stopped and just kissed the top of her head.
“God, you’re sappy,” she mumbled, hugging me back tighter. “I’ve gotta go, mama and I are meeting for dinner.”
Shit. “Don’t tell her anything,” I pleaded desperately. “Nothing about Patrick and Lydia or this whole thing, she and I have enough to talk about right now.”
She giggled and grabbed her purse, as she swung it over her shoulder she touched my arm gently. “I want to be there when this all blows up,” she said with a grin. “I really do have to go, but I’ll think about texting Lydia.”
“Thank you, that’s all I ask.” I smiled and watched her go, a small part of me wished I could tell her that I would do anything for her but it wasn’t true anymore. Not while she would want me to leave Lydia anyway, or get back with Christine. This was probably the first time I hadn’t immediately acquiesced to her wants, any girlfriends I had always went through the Maritza approval process. But I saw Lydia as an adult able to make her own choices and stand on her own two feet, that meant that I had to treat Mari the same way and she would have to live with my choices in life. Though, that certainly seemed easier to decide while alone, not so much when she was standing in front of me.
I sighed and grabbed my phone before heading up to pay the tab. Patrick wouldn’t be home when I got back, or if he was he would be getting ready to leave, that meant I was going to have the place to myself. The thought was surreal – I had lived on my own for nearly a decade, but after spending months with Lydia and Patrick being under the same roof I was almost nervous to go back alone. Fuck me, I really am getting sappy and soft.
With a huff, I jogged down the steps to the street, the sun was starting to set, casting the city into a warm red-orange glow and dozens of people all dressed up were getting ready for dinner out. The world was still turning despite the feeling of it coming to a screeching halt.
“Jonathan Harris, what would you be doing out at a place like this?”
As I turned toward the slimy voice a flash went off and I blinked rapidly to clear the spots in my vision. Paparazzi. Just one, a rogue tailgater trying to leech whatever was left of the dying story. Couldn’t have been much by now anyway. “Meeting my daughter,” I replied flatly.
“Is that what you call her? Does she call you daddy too?”
I don’t know if it was the taunting tone, the sleaziness of his voice, the implication that I referred to Lydia as my daughter to get my rocks off, or my suppressed anger coming to a boiling point, but I lunged at him instantly. There was a scream from behind me as my fist connected hard with the balding man’s face, he fell to the ground, his camera cracked beside him, and his nose a bloody mess.
“Stay the fuck away from me,” I snarled at him as I snatched my keys from the valet.
People were calling for an ambulance as he got back up shakily, I didn’t even look back over my shoulder. Christine wanted to take my money and she could, what was left of it after I paid off the paparazzi and whatever channel he worked for anyway