“I’m sorry it’s been such a rough time for you lately, Emma. This might be a bit blunt, but have you considered therapy?”
I sat quietly for a moment, mulling over her question before finally responding. “I think I’d like to.”
This was my life, and I didn’t want nightmares or stress to take it over, and when Ms. Rogers gave me an encouraging smile, I knew I had made a good decision.
“Emma, that you?” my mom hollered when the door shut. Who else would it be? I thought sarcastically but gave an affirmative anyway. “Once you put your bag away, can you come here please?”
“Yeah,” I called back before stepping into the room. Shucking my backpack onto my bed, I hung up my coat and placed my shoes in their rightful spot in my closet. When I got to the main level, the thought struck me that she had told me there was someone coming by tonight.
A man I didn’t recognize sat at the table, his focus on my mom before turning to me at the sound of my footsteps. He wore a suit but no tie, and his well-groomed hair was graying at the temples. Warm brown eyes, clean-shaven face, and strong jaw. His demeanor was relaxed yet confident. Something about him looked oddly familiar, but I couldn’t place my finger on what exactly.
“Emma, this is Samuel Holden,” my mom introduced when she saw me standing at the top of the stairs, her hand gesturing for me to come closer. When I neared the kitchen where they were, I noticed there was a hint of worry in my mom’s gaze. Well, that’s not a good sign. It took her a moment to finally continue, adding, “He is your...”
“Biological father?” I finished when she trailed off.
My mom’s eyes widened sharply before she schooled her expression, but even then she couldn’t find much to say, her mouth opening and closing a few times. I knew there should have been some kind of shock, or at least irritation that my mom would dump something so massive on me without the slightest hint of warning, but there wasn’t any. I felt mostly desensitized, almost numb, as if my brain had finally started to accept how little control I seemed to have in my own life. Hey, at least I’m getting some answers without even having to talk to Mom about this, I thought, trying to see some positives in the bizarre situation.
Turning my attention to him, I realized what was familiar. He looked sort of like me with a lean body type and butt chin, and the more I looked, the more I recognized traits I had too. He didn’t appear rattled that I had blurted that out there, a small grin appearing as he stood.
“Yes, Emma, I’m your father,” he told me, his voice warm and kind as he stuck his hand out for me to shake. “It’s nice to finally meet you. You can call me Sam if you want.”
“Missed opportunity there, Sam,” I joked, grabbing his hand to shake. “Could have done a Darth Vader impersonation. Did you know that Yoda was originally going to be played by a monkey in a mask and a cane?” Sam laughed at my lame joke, putting the sliver of nerves that had started to worm into my chest at ease.
“I didn’t know that, and you’re right. That was definitely a missed opportunity, but did you know the original ending to Return of the Jedi was that Luke turned to the dark side?”
“I do now,” I said with a smile. So that’s where I got that quirk from... or at least my love of facts.
“Emma, can I ask how you learned about David not being your biological father?” my mom asked, coming out of her stupor enough to jump back into the conversation.
“Dad told me a few weeks after I got back from Cali at Christmas,” I admitted, knowing that he would tell her the truth if she asked him. If they’re even on speaking terms, I thought. “There was never a time to really bring it up and ask you.” My words weren’t meant to be harsh, but with her lips pursing, I knew she probably took it as an insult.
“I see. Sam, if you would excuse me for a moment.” When he gave a nod, she turned, walking down the hall to her bedroom and closing the door. At first I was confused at what she was doing, but after a few moments, I heard her talking angrily, either to my non-biological father or leaving him a very seething message.
“So, Emma,” Sam started hesitantly as if my mom wasn’t nearly shouting on the other side of the house. “I’m sure this is pretty weird for you, but I do really want to try and get to know you. If you’d like, of course. I know I can’t replace David and that father-daughter relationship, but—”
“I’d like that,” I cut him off, shuffling awkwardly in place. I had wanted to know more about my biological father, about my family and how things had turned out the way that they had, but I couldn’t deny that it was weird. I was glad he was making the offer because I’d had no clue how to start off that topic of conversation. “I’m sure it’ll be an adjustment though. I’m not too good with change.”
“Completely understandable. Anywhere you’d want to start?” he questioned, taking his seat back at the table. Following suit, I sank across from him, mulling over his question.
“What do you do for a living?” There were a multitude of questions I wanted to ask, but that was the first that had popped into my mind, and it seemed safe enough as a start.
“I work with your mom, actually,” he explained. As soon as he said that, it clicked.
“Wait... Holden, as in Holden Marketing?”
“Yup, your mom works for me. Well, more with me than for me,” he clarified.
Holy crap, my father is my mom’s boss… that would mean…
“How long have you known about me?” I blurted out.
“A few years now,” he admitted, a grimace passing over his face briefly. “It was a shock at first, but your mom told me more about you, and then when things started to go south in California, I offered her a position at the marketing firm.”
“So... are you seeing each other?” I grew more confused by every answer. Has my mom really been talking to and seeing my father this whole time with no intention of telling me?
“We are now, but we weren’t in the years that I learned about you. When the divorce process started, we decided it would be worth a try. Sorry, this is probably really odd to hear, and if I say too much or make you uncomfortable, please let me know,” he reassured, rambling in his nervousness. Sam looked cool as a cucumber, but I could tell by the way his words started to rush together and his fingers tapped lightly on the table that he was nervous.
How was I able to tell? Because it was the same thing I would do, to the point that it was kind of freaky to see so much of me in a stranger.
“I guess that explains the long work hours,” I muttered under my breath.
“Those really are for work,” he countered with a sheepish smile. The timer on the oven went off, startling me from my swirl of questions. Getting up, I went over and opened the door, seeing the lasagna I had made the night before warming on the rack.
“So what was the emergency last night?” I asked as I grabbed oven mitts and pulled out the dish. I hadn’t even realized anything was being cooked until the timer dinged. My attention had been too focused on not messing up this first meeting… or letting the growing urge to run back to my room get any more prevalent. Though I would definitely love to get away from the awkwardness that’s sure to come when my mom returns. But hey, at least I get to have dinner with my mom, I tried to tell myself hesitantly, but the statement only made me grumble.