My dad sets his coffee mug down with an uncharacteristic sigh, his fingers pressed tight against the porcelain as he looks across the kitchen island at me. The silence is unusually heavy. "Megara," he starts, as I finish my last piece of egg and toast.
Mom gets up and clears the breakfast wares and Liz sips on her peppermint tea. She joined us this weekend and I am joyous about it. "We need to know what is going on with you. You are being strange and-" Then all three stare at me- again because they were being weird during breakfast.
"Me wanting to spend time with my family is weird to you?"
"We-ll no- yes," my mother begins and finishes lamely then Liz attempts to pick up where she left off.
"What we mean is- you seem very moody-"
"Moody? Because I am happy at home?" I raise an eyebrow, sipping on my coffee. I'm like Dad in that way. Coffee with sugar, no cream, and this one specific brand or nothing else. I think painkillers I took as soon as I got up, are doing their job marvelously.
"What we mean," my dad resumes his speech, "Is that this sudden need to be home after you wanted to be away from 'our clinginess' he did air quotes and then to suddenly wanting to be around us-"
"Mom wants to know if you're pregnant," Liz blurts out and my eyes circle. "Dad thinks you might have been on drugs and got the bad end and now you're being thankful for life."
Ah, the intervention.
"And what do you think Liz?" I say calmly because I was expecting this.
"I think you and Dan broke up and you're sad. But you can't come home and cry on mom's shoulder over it, so you did the next best thing." She crosses her arms over her chest as if she knows she is right.
If I was heartbroken, I would have confided in my twin as per usual when I have things on my mind. Avrielle is the other half of me- literally. I wonder if Avrielle had a part to play in this. It's almost yawn material.
"Do you know Gabriel, Magara?" My father probes me quietly and my cup freezes midway to the table from my mouth.
Caught by surprise I manage to utter, "What makes you say-"
My father begins sliding a business card across the counter with a name that jumps out in clean, embossed lettering; G. Adkins.
I blink, looking down at the card. It's not every day that my dad passes me a name and number on a little white card, and certainly not with the expression he's wearing right now. His brow is furrowed, lips pressed into a line of caution like he's already rehearsed the words he's about to say. He leans forward slightly, elbows on the counter, and his eyes meet mine with that piercing fatherly gaze that I know too well.
"Gabriel asked for your number," he says and I can see both Mom and Liz leaning back on their chairs, around the breakfast table, with worried expressions.
Furrowing, I meet his eyes. "What? Why?" My heart is like a freight train inside my chest. Did my family think Gabe was the older guy who supplied me with roofies or something?
"He wants to meet you for breakfast."
Gabe wanted to contact me? Why?
I stare at him, then at the card, and back at him. "Gabriel... Adkins?" The name feels strange in my mouth, like a half-formed mystery I'm meant to decipher. I take a breath, my fingers tracing the raised lettering on the card, pretending it's just a name, just a number with the textile company his father owns.
"Is this a joke?" I flip the card back and forth between my fingers. "There is only a name and number." There was no title on it. Just the name of his father's company.
Dad leans back, his face twisting in a skeptical frown. "Megara, I don't approve of this." His words carry the weight of a lifetime of lectures I've half-listened to, but there's something new here- a mix of concern and... something I can't quite place. "You're a young woman in front of him. Just a girl. And if I'm not mistaken," he adds pointedly, "you have a boyfriend. Tell us what is really going on."
It hangs in the air, waiting. I feel my cheeks warm under his scrutiny, the truth itching to escape but tangled in reluctance. I've known this moment was coming. But I haven't exactly worked out how to explain it to my family.
"Dad," I start, my voice wavering a little. "Dan and I… we've been talking." I glance at my mother then. "We- Dan and I haven't exactly been on solid ground lately. We decided to end things."
There it is, out in the open. I say it lightly, like the words mean less than they do, even though I know my dad catches every flicker of meaning, every silent note of sadness and relief layered underneath.
Liz's jaw slackens but she is not gloating that she had been correct.
"And- I've been coming home because- I don't know how to say it, but I feel like you guys- Dad remember how I asked you to stay back from the cruise?" He nods slightly. "Well, I woke up one day and I felt like you guys were gone and- I-" my tears flow then. "I just had to be with you guys." It was the closest to the truth as I could go without sounding like a loony.
"Pregnant," Liz mutters. "Emotional tears?" But she is hugging me. "My depressed baby," she coos, and I sniffle laugh.
"Oh Megs," Mom is up and cupping my cheeks. "We're right here. Nothing is taking us from you." If only she knew.
"No drugs?" Dad studies me for a moment, his expression softening a bit, though the lines of worry remain after I shake my head no. "I take a drug test if you want."
"Well," he says after a pause. "You're an adult, and I trust you to make the right decisions. Just…" He hesitates, shaking his head slowly. "Be careful."
I don't contact Gabriel that night, or even later that evening. Instead, I fall into my old habits- distracting myself with schoolwork, scrolling aimlessly through messages I haven't answered and social media. The thought of calling him feels… momentous. Too big for one evening, at least.
Monday morning, the card is still there in my bag, like a quiet reminder, daring me to acknowledge it.
Without overthinking it, I tap out a quick message, fingers trembling slightly as I type each word. [Hey, this is Megara, Mr. Lee's daughter. I heard you wanted to meet. This is my contact. Looking forward to hearing from you and learn what this is about.]
I hit send before I can talk myself out of it, and almost immediately regret the formality of 'looking forward to hearing from you.' Who says that in a text message? But there's no taking it back, so I set my phone aside and let myself breathe.
Hours pass, but eventually, his reply comes through a short but direct confirmation. [Hello, Megara. Thank you for reaching out. Does tomorrow morning work for you? There's a cafe on the 6th where we can meet.]
Instantly I am irritated and ignore him after that, He knows I have classes.
By mid-afternoon, I confirm that I have a free period and would meet him at eleven at the place he chose. Who am I kidding? I need to see Gabe.
[Great] He responds with.
The simplicity of it feels right. There's no fuss, no expectation just a meeting, one that could mean anything or nothing.