eyes, some nameless feeling that showed me she still cared, perhaps she still remembered. But then it was gone.
And now I stand here, freezing to death and wondering if Annabel will even show up. She rang me out of the blue, asked me if we could talk privately. I suggested this promenade, sentimental fool that I am.
Tracey was delighted by her call, reading more into it than I dared. Throughout the years, she has mourned the father daughter relationship we could have had as much as I have. Perhaps more.
I turn, as if I can sense Annabel coming, and there she is, walking down the promenade, her head lowered against the wind. She looks up and sees me, and waves.
“Hi, Mike. Thanks for meeting me.”
“Anytime, Annabel. You know that.”
We gaze at each other and she slowly nods. “Yes, I guess I do.”
“Well?” I try to make my voice light, jovial. “Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Yes.” Annabel looks at me directly, half challenging, half afraid, as defiant and tremulous as when she was nine. “I want to apologize. I realize I’ve made things worse between us than they need be.”
“How worse do you think they should be?” I can’t help but ask. “Never mind, I don’t really want to know.” Perhaps there is a tinge of bitterness in my voice that I can’t help, because I see the answering hurt in Annabel’s face. I shrug. “I’ve always wanted things to be better between us,” I say. I pause, then plunge ahead recklessly. “You might not remember, but we used to come here, to this promenade. The two of us. We had some good times once, when you were little. I helped you learn how to swim.”
I don’t expect my words to have any effect. After all, they never have, have they? But this time is different. This time Annabel’s face crumples, and she suddenly begins to cry.
Out of instinct I wrap my arms around her. She buries her head in my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I never cry... it’s just...”
“What?” I ask gently.
“I remember.” She dashes at the tears on her cheeks, as if she’s ashamed of them. “I know I was horrid to you, Mike. I thought if I was terrible enough, you’d leave.”
“You wanted me to leave?” Despite our bumpy past, I wasn’t expecting that.
“No, no, it wasn’t that.” Annabel shakes her head. “It seemed like all my friends’ parents were getting divorced. Kids at school said you’d be gone... just like their families, I suppose. And it had happened before.” She takes a breath. “I know I don’t remember my real father, but I know he walked out on us. And I was afraid... afraid you would leave.” She tries to smile but doesn’t quite make it. “And I was angry too, and when I wanted to put things right, it seemed like it was impossible. Then I decided you didn’t care, and so neither did I.”
She says the last bit quietly, but the words seem to echo inside my head. Guilt and regret wash through me. “I’ve always cared, Annabel. I should have told you so.” I shake my head. “I wish we’d had this talk a long time ago.”
“Maybe we weren’t ready for it then.” Annabel gives me a wobbly smile. “Knowing the way I was, I might have scratched your eyes out or worse! I wasn’t easy to get along with.”
“And I was too easy to get along with,” I say, the realization coming to me just now. “I was so afraid of rocking the boat, when I probably should have just tipped it over.”
“There’s nothing we can do about the past,” Annabel says quietly. “But there is the future.” She pauses, smiling tremulously. “I wanted to ask you if you’d walk me down the aisle at my wedding. I know we haven’t had the best relationship but you’ve been the closest thing to a father to me and... she trails off uncertainly before adding, “and I’d like you to.”
For a moment I
And now I stand here, freezing to death and wondering if Annabel will even show up. She rang me out of the blue, asked me if we could talk privately. I suggested this promenade, sentimental fool that I am.
Tracey was delighted by her call, reading more into it than I dared. Throughout the years, she has mourned the father daughter relationship we could have had as much as I have. Perhaps more.
I turn, as if I can sense Annabel coming, and there she is, walking down the promenade, her head lowered against the wind. She looks up and sees me, and waves.
“Hi, Mike. Thanks for meeting me.”
“Anytime, Annabel. You know that.”
We gaze at each other and she slowly nods. “Yes, I guess I do.”
“Well?” I try to make my voice light, jovial. “Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Yes.” Annabel looks at me directly, half challenging, half afraid, as defiant and tremulous as when she was nine. “I want to apologize. I realize I’ve made things worse between us than they need be.”
“How worse do you think they should be?” I can’t help but ask. “Never mind, I don’t really want to know.” Perhaps there is a tinge of bitterness in my voice that I can’t help, because I see the answering hurt in Annabel’s face. I shrug. “I’ve always wanted things to be better between us,” I say. I pause, then plunge ahead recklessly. “You might not remember, but we used to come here, to this promenade. The two of us. We had some good times once, when you were little. I helped you learn how to swim.”
I don’t expect my words to have any effect. After all, they never have, have they? But this time is different. This time Annabel’s face crumples, and she suddenly begins to cry.
Out of instinct I wrap my arms around her. She buries her head in my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I never cry... it’s just...”
“What?” I ask gently.
“I remember.” She dashes at the tears on her cheeks, as if she’s ashamed of them. “I know I was horrid to you, Mike. I thought if I was terrible enough, you’d leave.”
“You wanted me to leave?” Despite our bumpy past, I wasn’t expecting that.
“No, no, it wasn’t that.” Annabel shakes her head. “It seemed like all my friends’ parents were getting divorced. Kids at school said you’d be gone... just like their families, I suppose. And it had happened before.” She takes a breath. “I know I don’t remember my real father, but I know he walked out on us. And I was afraid... afraid you would leave.” She tries to smile but doesn’t quite make it. “And I was angry too, and when I wanted to put things right, it seemed like it was impossible. Then I decided you didn’t care, and so neither did I.”
She says the last bit quietly, but the words seem to echo inside my head. Guilt and regret wash through me. “I’ve always cared, Annabel. I should have told you so.” I shake my head. “I wish we’d had this talk a long time ago.”
“Maybe we weren’t ready for it then.” Annabel gives me a wobbly smile. “Knowing the way I was, I might have scratched your eyes out or worse! I wasn’t easy to get along with.”
“And I was too easy to get along with,” I say, the realization coming to me just now. “I was so afraid of rocking the boat, when I probably should have just tipped it over.”
“There’s nothing we can do about the past,” Annabel says quietly. “But there is the future.” She pauses, smiling tremulously. “I wanted to ask you if you’d walk me down the aisle at my wedding. I know we haven’t had the best relationship but you’ve been the closest thing to a father to me and... she trails off uncertainly before adding, “and I’d like you to.”
For a moment I
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