I don’t know when I fell asleep but I did, and as I slowly come to, I’m relieved to find my hands out of my pants.

I can’t remember if I locked the door or not, but if I didn’t and someone had peeked in, most likely they didn’t catch me in an awkward position—although my dad knows better than to do such a thing—he learned to respect my privacy and never open my door without knocking in my early teens.

I’m not sure about this new woman, however, and you know what? If she was brazen and disrespectful enough to do such a thing, serves her right to get an eyeful of post-masturbation.

I check the time and realize it’s after eight p.m.—I’ve missed dinner for sure since it’s usually served at seven.

Even if they’re still at the dinner table yakking away, why the heck would I want to join them? The last thing I want to do is talk shop with either of them at this time.

I notice some paper near the door and realize someone slipped something underneath it.

I button my pants and head over, grabbing up what’s clearly a wedding invitation and the scrap of paper next to it—the word ‘Danny’ and a phone number scribbled on it.

Shit, I need to call him about that job, don’t I?

What was I thinking, going along with such a stupid plan?

Clearly, I wasn’t thinking—didn’t have time to; my dad totally blindsided me.

And I’ve never been the best liar, so coming up with a quick “Actually, I already have a job/meeting/interview” wasn’t happening, and it would’ve only led to more on-the-spot lies because they would inevitably ask where and what kind of job and all that crap; I’m just not that quick on my feet with that kind of fabrication, though I’ve tried to be.

Heck, I only came up with the name Cara for Danny because it’s what I name everything—my favorite doll when I was a kid, my first pet (a hamster). And now, it’s what I always use when some guy I don’t care to give the truth to asks my name.

Otherwise, the truth has an annoying way of tumbling out of my mouth, so I’ve learned it’s usually best to remain silent.

And now here I am, about to take on a job I don’t want because I couldn’t come up with a lie fast enough. And because I couldn’t resist the pleading look in my dad’s eyes, if I’m being totally honest.

I sit on the bed, check out the wedding invitation as I stall, tearing open the envelope and studying the pearlescent design, then bring my eyes back to the scrap of paper with Danny’s number.

I plug his number into my phone then dial it, part of me hoping he doesn’t pick up, even though that just means I’d have to try again later.

“Hello?” he answers with an edge—as if he really wants to say, “Who the hell is this?”

Still, a thrill ripples through me at the sound of his familiar tenor.

“Oh, hi. I’m Emma and your mom gave me this number to call and ask about a job at your company.”

“Ah. I was wondering how you got my personal cell. I don’t usually answer unknown calls but I don’t usually get them either.”

“Right. Well, your mom insisted there’s probably a position for me…”

“How about you come in on Monday and we see what we can do? Dress as you would for any office, and I’ll get you all sorted. We’ll figure something out for sure, and you can have the job as long as you need it. There’s also room for promotion if you’re willing to take a few courses the company will pay for.”

He clearly has no idea who I am—no sign of familiarity whatsoever in his voice—and I figure it’s probably best to keep him in the dark for now; after all, I still have time to duck out of this whole thing—it’s Saturday and I still have lots of time to think about things.

No use alerting him to my existence any sooner than I need to—I can just surprise him at the wedding two weeks from now, and we can get the awkwardness out of the way at that time and then stay out of each other’s lives from there. Outside of, like, Thanksgiving or whatever.

“Sure, thanks—see you Monday,” I say.

“Okay, Emma. See you then.”

Once the call is disconnected, I momentarily feel lost.

I just had a heck of a nap so I’m not sleepy, and I still don’t want to see my dad or Daisy right now.

Folks their age tend to be in bed by nine anyway, so I head to the bathroom for a thorough shower, washing the day of unpleasant surprises and helpful masturbation off of me.

Then I’ll head for the leftovers—food will have been put aside for me and I can’t wait to eat it.

And then, most likely, I’ll head to the pool or Jacuzzi in back—since my dad lives out in the middle of nowhere, it’s not feasible to just go for a walk and be in the thick of interesting people and places like it is at my apartment—I’ll have to hop in my car and drive a while to get anywhere, and where I end up won’t be anywhere near as interesting as Manhattan or Brooklyn.

The most action I’d encounter going into town from here is way overpriced food and clothes.

* * *

SUNDAY

I ended up going to bed after two a.m.—after binging the rest of a Netflix series I’d started—and yet I’m up bright and early at seven a.m., right in time for breakfast.

I’m not exactly upset about this—breakfast is best when fresh and steaming, and my stomach is already growling. I’m actually fighting back drool at the thought of the scrambled eggs and sausages and pancakes or whatever is awaiting me.

Dad and Daisy greet me with welcoming smiles, and I join them at the breakfast table.

“How’d you sleep?” Daisy asks with twinkling eyes.

“Pretty soundly, apparently. Sorry I missed dinner. Oh, I did get to call your son at some point, and it sounds like I’m all set—I start tomorrow.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” she says.

I give her a smile—a silent thank you.

“Really glad to hear it,” my dad says.

I send him a small smile too, then make it a point to concentrate on the food before me.

I dig in ravenously—you’d think I didn’t gorge myself on chicken breasts and baby potatoes and grilled asparagus last night.

Not to mention the snacking I did during my TV show binge.

The two sort of turn to each other while I stuff my face, but at some point, they hit a spot in their conversation where they figured they could bring me into it.

I’d started daydreaming, my mind wandering all over the place while I ate, so I didn’t hear what they were talking about before my dad says, “Emma’s been there, haven’t you?”

“Where?” My mind crashes back to the present.

“Vancouver.”

“Oh, yeah.” I nod, then take a sip of orange juice.

“Daisy was saying Danny went there for a birthday recently. Now is he generally an outdoors person? Emma’s been that way from birth, it seems.”

“No. He’s actually rather focused on his career, although he does like to vacation in wild places every now and then. For example, he picked Costa Rica to spend his previous birthday, for some reason…”

I realize I’m concentrating pretty hard on their conversation now—mostly because it’s about Danny.

I shouldn’t let myself be so interested, but I can’t help it, and now I’m hanging onto every word about this guy I have to learn to ignore somehow.

Once I’m done eating, I’m ready to leave Rhinebeck and head back to Manhattan—I can’t stay here much longer, and I know I don’t have to.

Maybe I should be grateful to Dad that he gave me an easy excuse to go back to my apartment early—I have to prepare myself for a new job beginning tomorrow after all, so he can’t guilt me into hanging out here for another day.

I get up from the table.

“Emma, darling—would you mind going for a quick walk with me? I want to show you the new garden,” Dad says.

I consider protesting but figure it shouldn’t last more than half an hour or so.

He clearly recognized the signs I was about to take off, and I guess he has something to say to me and wants to get it off his chest before the wedding.

I should probably let him.

“Sure, Dad,” I say.

His face lights up and Daisy informs him how she’ll occupy her time while he’s off with me.

She’s clearly in on his whole mini-intervention.

* * *

I’m actually glad I agreed to take this walk with my dad—everything about the home is so much more radiant in the daytime.

The familiar topiary and sculptures around the house still appear magnificent to my grownup eyes.

Even the back patio, where I’d spend part of the night doing laps in the pool and then soaking in the hot tub, looks so much more welcoming.

And then there’s the garden.

My mom had been keeping up with one, and it totally died after she did. The last time I was here, the space was pretty sad and dry, but now—and I didn’t visit this area last night to compare what it looks like in the daytime—it’s blooming again, this time with lots of different flowers.

“I started cultivating it again several months ago, and then I met Daisy. She helps me keep it up,” he says proudly.

I stare at the beautiful new flowers in wonder.

The two have managed to integrate some stunning exotics—bird of paradise and some gorgeous yellow thing I don’t know the name of, for example.

My mom cultivated a lot of spices, things that could be used in the kitchen. Tomatoes, carrots—things like that.

I see there’s still an area dedicated to thyme, sage, rosemary and such, but the garden is definitely more of a thing of beauty than cultivated for practical use.

“Wow,” is all I end up saying.

“I know,” Dad says, beaming. He waits a beat. “Listen, honey, I realize I’ve disappointed you and that you haven’t quite forgiven me for my past actions, but I do want you to know I appreciate you coming here. Your support means the world to me. And look, I know I have no right to ask it, but I’d like it if you can say hi every now and then. Send me a quick note when you’re moving again—things like that. I’m not saying I need to know all of your business—you’re a grown woman, your life is your own—but I…I didn’t even know where to mail a wedding invitation! And you don’t have to drag yourself down here for any holidays or anything like that—I just...well, you’re just about the only thing I have left...”

“That’s not true...”

“Well, yes, I have Daisy now, but you’re still the most important thing to me. You mean everything to me, Dandelion, and I just like to know you’re well. I don’t want you to keep...running.”

“Ah, yes—getting me trapped in an office building is your way of slowing me down?”

“It’s not so much the job—I’m just reminding you of the machine, I guess. You can’t wander around forever. No one’s insisting you bog yourself down needlessly, but you should find some sort of anchor.”

“Thanks, Dad—I look forward to drowning myself.”

“I’m not being very clear, am I? Well, if there’s one thing you take from this, let it be that I love you, and I just want the best for you; I want you to be happy. So if doing whatever you’re doing is bringing max happiness, then, by all means, keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll just keep up with you on the Facebook or Instagram.”

I chuckle lightly.

“How come I didn’t recognize you on there? Your name or anything?”

“I was advised not to use my real name or face. Good advice, I realize, or you might have cut off my only view.”

I take a really deep breath, partially to release some of the guilt building up again.

“Dad, I didn’t mean to run away—I just had to clear my head, figure out where I stood on pretty much everything. So if you want to send me dumb birthday cards, fine—I’ll give you my current address. And I’ll go ahead and test out this corporate atmosphere tomorrow and see how I feel about it. And I’ll definitely be there to watch you two get married soon, but that’s all I can promise for now.”

He smiles at me. “That’s fine with me. I won’t be too greedy. Besides, you’re calling me Dad again instead of that wretched Daddy-o.”

I giggle despite myself, and we give each other a quick half-hug, short but full of affection.

Once we return to the house’s interior, I seek out Daisy and tell her how great it was to meet her and all that, then get my stuff from upstairs and take off.