Chapter 38

Austin

I’m not sure I would have considered moving back to the Bay Area had my dad not moved away. We’d always had issues. His affair with Piper’s mom had simply been the last straw. When I’d asked him about getting together while I was in the area, I’d been uncertain if he’d get back to me or not. I’d also taken the cowardly way and emailed him rather than calling.

I was nervous when I rang the bell at my father’s house. With a deep breath, I reminded myself that I could do this. I needed to do this. He might not be the best dad, but he was the only one I had.

A girl in her early teens answered the door, and I blinked twice, sure I was seeing things. She stared at me with wide eyes. With hair the same shade as mine and features similar to my sister’s, I knew we were related. It seemed my father had another child. I had a sister he hadn’t told me about—at least, that’s what I thought until the girl finally spoke.

“Cousin Austin!” she screeched, launching herself into my arms.

“Iris!” my dad called out from somewhere in the house. “Let him come inside before you bother him with a million questions.”

I didn’t know my dad’s side of the family very well. This was definitely my first-time meeting Iris, but I’d heard her name somewhere before.

“Sorry.” She stepped aside so I could enter the house before continuing. “I’ve been super excited about meeting you. I love your music. The kids at school don’t believe you’re my cousin. Uncle Ray took me to your show last night. It was amazing! I even got a t-shirt. Can you sign my CD? Maybe you can even say I’m your cousin when you sign it.”

Iris finally stopped talking long enough for me to respond. “Sure. I’ll sign your CD.”

Iris giggled and jumped up and down as she led me to the kitchen, where my dad was cooking. I couldn’t recall ever seeing my dad cook before.

“What’s going on here?” I asked as I looked around my dad’s kitchen. This home didn’t resemble the one I’d grown up in. My childhood home had often looked more like a museum—staged and unlived in. Everything had been in its place, and a decorator had come in annually to make sure we followed the latest trends. This home looked more lived in and comfortable. The furniture wasn’t old, but it appeared to have been purchased with comfort, rather than style, in mind. On the refrigerator, there were school papers and an old drawing a child had likely done.

“I’m cooking lunch,” my dad explained with a grin. Dressed in khakis and a sweater, he looked much different from the man I’d grown up with. “The doctor says I need to eat healthier, so I’ve been eating at home more often.”

“No cook?” I asked.

My dad chuckled. “A lot changed when I decided to deal with my issues.”

“Deal with your issues?” I asked.

“The ones I had when you were growing up.” He gestured to Iris with his head to indicate he didn’t want to explain those issues in front of her. “I wanted to be a better man, and that desire impacted several areas of my life.”

“What issues?” Iris asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about.” My dad waved a spatula her direction.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “You must have had a drug problem, like my mom. Did you go to rehab, too? How come you never told me about that?”

“It was a different problem,” my dad replied before turning his attention to me. “Do you remember Aunt Corrine?”

I thought for a moment before nodding. “That’s your mom?” I asked Iris.

She nodded and explained sadly, “She’s in rehab, again.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I told her. This was not how I’d expected my visit to start.

“Iris lives here,” my dad explained.

“And you took her to see me play,” I added.

My dad smiled. “She was mad when I saw you in Miami over the summer. She had summer school, so I didn’t take her with me on that trip.”

“Stupid algebra,” Iris grumbled.

“You were at the show in Miami?” I asked.

“I had business down there at the time, so it only made sense to go to your show,” he explained. “You’re surprised I saw you play. That makes sense. I wasn’t a very good father.”

“He was a total dick,” Iris added.

That got a startled bark of laughter from me and my dad.

“Who told you that?” my dad asked.

“My mom,” Iris replied.

I felt as though I’d walked into some alternate reality. This man didn’t seem anything like my dad. He wasn’t uptight or distant. Rather than hiring a nanny to care for Iris while his sister was in rehab, he seemed pretty involved—more involved than he’d been when I was growing up.

My dad looked at the time on his phone before saying, “Iris, you should get ready to go. Your tutor will be here in a few minutes.”

“But my CD,” she whined. “Austin is going to sign it. I need to find it.”

“How about if I post a picture of us for your friends to see?” I suggested.

“That would be great!” Iris chirped.

We posed, and my dad took the photo with my phone. I posted it, telling the world I was hanging out with my cousin, Iris.

Iris squealed when I showed her the post and raced from the room to text her friends.

My dad chuckled and set a plate with salmon and steamed vegetables in front of me. “Thanks for doing that for her, Austin. She’s been looking forward to meeting you.”

“Is that why you agreed to see me?” I asked.

“No,” my dad replied with a sigh. His gaze moved across the room. “I’m still not very good at all this emotional stuff. I’m a little better with Iris, but not much.”

“How often does she stay with you?” I asked.

“Iris and Corrine have been living with me for about five years. Corrine goes into rehab at least once a year,” my dad explained. “She hasn’t been the same since her husband died. Iris seems to have better coping mechanisms than most people.”

“It’s strange that I didn’t know about any of this,” I remarked as I looked down at my lunch.

“You haven’t had much interest in talking to me,” he pointed out. “Not that I blame you. We weren’t close, and I messed up before you left.”

“There’s no reason to talk about that,” I assured him. He hadn’t been the only one to mess up back then. I’d had enough reminders of all I’d done to hurt Piper.

“What do you want to talk about?” my dad asked.

I shrugged. “That’s a good question. After I asked to meet with you, I started coming up with all these rehearsed speeches. Now, none of them seem right.”

“You don’t want to tell me how awful I was when you were growing up?” he asked.

I shook my head. “That wasn’t in most of my rehearsed speeches.”

The doorbell interrupted us.

“Give me a minute,” my dad began as he rose. “I need to make sure Iris brings everything she needs.”

While I waited, I picked at my lunch. It looked good, but I wasn’t all that hungry. When my dad returned, he looked apprehensive.

“What made you decide to talk to me?” he asked. “I mean about more than money.”

“I’ve been talking to Piper about you lately—Piper Button.”

My dad’s eyes widened at the name. While he likely didn’t remember every woman he’d slept with, Piper’s mom would be hard to forget. Not only had I lost it with my dad, my mom had divorced him over that affair. They hadn’t divorced right away, but it had marked the beginning of the end. “I didn’t know you were still in contact with her. Your mom said she had quite the crush on you all those years ago.”

“She did,” I agreed. “We recently started talking again. After I saw you with Piper’s mom, I said horrible things to Piper. It wasn’t fair when you were the one I was mad at.”

My dad nodded. “You were rightfully angry.”

“But I didn’t have any right to take it out on Piper,” I stated.

“No, you didn’t,” he agreed.

“I’ve been angry for a very long time,” I continued. “Even before the affair, I was angry that you weren’t there for me. I was angry that you always seemed distant.”

“That’s something I still struggle with,” he admitted.

“You didn’t exactly have much in the way of role models,” I told him. “I never stopped to think about your childhood, until recently.”

“My parents aren’t very loving, but that excuse only goes so far,” he stated. “By the time I started to realize my own mistakes as a parent, it was too late to be your dad. You were doing fine on your own.”

I snorted in response. “Yeah, right. I’ve acted like a spoiled brat. My bandmates had to work much harder than I did. There was no one paying their bills and no trust to draw from.”

“I was surprised when you didn’t call to ask me for anything after you moved back to the Bay Area,” he remarked. “I expected you to ask for more money.”

“We’re making decent money now, and I had a good amount of equity in my other home,” I began. “I’m tired of being the spoiled rich boy. It’s time to grow up.”

“I’m proud of you,” my dad said softly. “When you were younger and said you wanted to be a famous rock star, I thought you needed to get your head out of the clouds and look for a real career.”

“I know. You told me that often,” I reminded him.

“And I was wrong. Your band is good.” His praise surprised me.

“I still can’t believe you saw us play,” I mused.

“You’re my son,” he replied. “I’m glad you came to see me.”

“Me too,” I admitted. “We should talk more often.”

“We should,” my dad agreed. “Don’t start thinking this means I’m good at expressing my feelings. I’m not sure I’ll ever be good at that. To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure I can be the loving dad you wanted growing up.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” I assured him.