When I pull into an empty parking space near the far corner of the building, I’m surprised to see that I’ve made it here in one piece. I should be concerned with the damage I might have caused driving in such an absent-minded state, but I can’t bring myself to care.
I want to be sad about my father’s death. I am sad…I think, but I’m having trouble accessing the emotion. It’s like I can see it right in front of me, but when I reach out, my fingers slip through it and it disappears.
So many years have passed since the last time I saw him. Long years. It was hard in the beginning, but at some point, I took all the pain, all the heartbreak, all the lost love, and wrapped it up. Sealed it away in a nice little box so that I could keep on living.
I tried so hard to get him to love me, to accept me, for who I am. The fact that he finally came around before he died…I don’t know how to process that. There’s so much that we missed out on, so much wasted time, and now it’s too late.
Pulling down the visor, I flip the mirror open. My grey eyes are too big, the shock of this morning’s events playing like a storm through the irises and in the crease of my brow. I run my fingers through my hair in an attempt to tame the unruly tresses, before freshening my lipstick and plastering on a fake smile. No one is going to believe that I’m okay.
Unfolding myself from the car, I slowly trudge across the parking lot. My body feels heavy, foreign, as if it’s no longer my own. The weight of my father’s decision, the stipulations he expects me to abide by, feel impossible.
It’s as if I’m standing at the base of a sheer, vertical mountain. The top disappears behind the clouds above, and I’m expected to scale it with no equipment, no support, no help. I can’t do it.
The first thing I notice as I walk in the door is the large group of kids that sit on the carpeted area of the children’s section. They’re staring mesmerized, as Sara reads animatedly. A small sense of comfort sweeps over me.
Sara is nothing short of amazing, despite her small stature. Her head is framed by a mass of auburn curls and her brown eyes sparkle like twin quartz gemstones.
Her face holds all the shock, excitement, and innocence of the story in her hand. She changes her voice to match the characters in the story, a high-pitched princess, a gravelly evil witch.
Her movements are choreographed to bring the entire thing to life and keep the kids suspended on the edge of their seats. I find myself stepping forward, eager to hear the next words coming from her full lips.
There’s something about Sara that draws me in. I’ve been crushing on her since the first day she started working here. She’s so adorable and kind.
More than that, though, I admire how hard she works. There’s always a spark that lights up her eyes as she’s reading, despite whatever turmoil’s the world throws at her. It can’t be easy raising two boys on her own, and I’m humbled by her determination.
“You know, your eyes get this hazy, faraway look in them, and your mouth hangs open, just a tad when you stare at her. I’m waiting for the drool to start dribbling down your chin.” Cody’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I turn my head towards the register.
“I’m just saying,” she continues coyly, deliberately brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
I roll my eyes, untempted by the bait. Cody is always trying to get under my skin. For some reason she thinks it’s hot when I’m mad at her. I won’t pretend to understand why that is.
She must see something on my face that tells her I’m not in the mood for games right now because her tone softens. “Sara is having a really bad time lately. When she came in today, she looked like she’d been crying for hours and still had more tears readily available.”
That news sends pangs of grief pulsing through me. The thought of Sara hurting or being sad is unacceptable to me. If there was some way I could make her feel better, help her, and then, a lightbulb goes off in my head. Of course!
Hovering on the outskirts of the kids’ corner, I wait for Sara to finish her reading. It’s easy to see why the kids love her and why she’s so good at her job. I notice Rachel watching me from the office door, but I ignore her. She doesn’t need to know what my plan is.
When Sara gets up, and all the small bodies have filtered from the room, I walk up to her. “Hi, Sara. Can I talk to you for a minute? I have a proposition I’d like to make.”
Her face is uncertain, maybe even a little skeptical, but she agrees, anyway. I lead her down to the basement so that we won’t be heard by the prying eyes and ears of the girls we work with. I’m sure they’ll find out soon enough, but there’s no need to give them the opportunity to voice their opinions, just yet.
“I had a meeting with my father’s lawyers this morning. It seems he passed away recently.” I begin.
“Oh dear, I’m so sorry.” Her face is filled with so much sympathy and I remember that her sister’s passing is why she’s raising two boys on her own in the first place.
“We actually weren’t close,” I say, determined to get this out before I have the chance to lose my nerve. “He was never willing to accept my sexuality, and essentially disowned me.”
Her face fills with shock and concern, and she reaches out to squeeze one of my hands.
“Apparently, before his death, he had a change of heart. He left his entire fortune to me. The will stipulates, however, that in order to get everything, I have to be in a stable relationship, with plans to have children and carry on the family line.”
I take a deep breath and meet her gaze. “I was wondering if you would be willing to pretend to be my girlfriend. There’s an Easter celebration that my family has every year and that’s when I would need to introduce you to them.” I avoid mentioning that my entire family is homophobic.
“I don’t…know what to say,” she says cautiously.
“I would pay you for your time and trouble, of course.”
Five