Nathaniel Wilde, my father. I have been told I am the carbon copy of my father. In looks, yes. In thoughts, a big fat no.
It was why I freaked out and started to cry, when I saw my father at the foot of my bed. He was smiling apologetically and I felt my eyes burn. He has come to let me know my time is up.
But he smiled like the angel he has always been to me. His eyes flashed guilt and affection but there was this fear in them I couldn't understand. My father, afraid of something? I could not comprehended such a thing.
"I'm so sorry, honey. But are you feeling better?" He ran his hand through my hair tenderly and I gave him an awkward smile.
I was still mad at him for his stunt the previous night. I deserved an explanation but he was giving me an empty assurance. He chuckled.
"Come on, your Mom has cooked your favourite. Filet." My mouth watered at that and I threw caution to wind as I got ready for breakfast.
My mother smiled at me when I entered the kitchen while seasoning the meat. I walked up to her and gave her a hug from behind.
"You've gained weight, sweetie. Is it all the junk you've been eating?" My mouth fell open at that. "Mom! You can't be serious."
She giggled, turning to me and kissed my cheek. I was getting my daily dose of peanut butter when she plucked it right out of my hand. "There. Reason for your pot belly."
To say I was horrified was an understatement. What mother says that?
I have heard girls complain about how their mothers were calling them underweight when they felt and looked heavy. Look at mine, calling me fat when I was not. My hand subconsciously went to my belly when she engulfed me in a bear hug.
"A girl needs some meat to look good. Don't loose it." She patted my cheek and winked. I was bemused. It was confusing enough that my parents decided to visit me with their charade.
"Don't tell me you guys kidnapped me to call me fat." Now it was her turn to look aghast. She gave me a smile full of sympathy. "Oh sweetie."
Although I could feel the proverbial knife hanging above my head I chose to enjoy the heaven in front of me. Filet Mignon.
Breakfast was quiet as usual but I could see my mother cutting glances at my father out of the corner of my eyes. I waited until I couldn't take anymore of the tension.
"Dad, I think I deserve an explanation." I looked him square in the eye as his fork hovered half way to his mouth. He stopped putting it down. After a deep breath he returned my stare with equal fervour.
"You know very well I'm not accepting of the way you treat life." He scrutinised me and I glared back. "Dad...", he cut me off. "But now I need that for a reason..."
If I was shocked and hurt, it was nothing compared to my reaction when he said the actual words.
"Liv, I'm here about the promise." He paused assessing my reaction. "I want you to extend it for another year."
I stared, my mouth ajar and eyes still on my father's brown, aging ones. I was elated but it quit quickly crashed when I sensed a but. He tried to contain his discomfort. "But it comes with a price."
I snapped out of my daze at that. He was there for business and not because he loved his daughter and wanted to see her. A new wave of pain hit me with fresh trigger of tears.
"With me as well Dad?" I glared at him with tears streaming down my face. I didn't know why he suddenly had his men barge into the bar, why I was hauled away and why he was offering a sweet promise, at what could be a terrible price.
"Why Dad? Why now? You promised me four years. But I didn't know it came with a price."
My mother interjected. "No, don't be mad at your father. If it were about us we wouldn't have worried. It is about you."
My father squeezed her hands looking down. Now I was fed up. They won't say the word, they were just going to throw me puzzle after puzzle and let me figure it out.
"But you aren't allowed to keep secrets, Nate. Not from me. Friends don't do that." My father's eyes softened at that.
My memory swam to that day.
First day of school, I came home crying that no one wanted to be friends with me. My father held me and asked. "So what Liv, you have me. I'll always be your best friend."
I looked at him teary eyed. "But you're my Daddy. You can't be my friend." He chuckled and hooked his pinky around mine.
"Don't you want me as a friend?" He pulled a face and I laughed. "No, no. I'll be your friend. Don't worry."
Then I scrunched up my face. "But I call you Daddy." He lifted me up twirled me around. "Then call me Nate." I grinned, enjoying being twirled. "Okay then, Nate."
It was how I called him till middle school but got really embarrassed when my classmates started teasing me. I dropped it in public.
My father took my hand in his other and gently squeezed it.
I looked down at my lap as I slowly breathed trying to get the tears under control. Then a nasty possibility hit me as I let out a chuckle. I voiced it with my eyes cast down.
"You're not going to ask me to, you know, get married, are you?"