“We’re here.”
Even in my dreams, his voice called to me.
A gentle shaking nudged me, “Athena, we’re here.”
I slowly opened my eyes and blinked twice.
“We’re gonna be on the ground in fifteen.”
I nodded and was about to flag the attendant when a small bottled water appeared at my side.
A smile left my mouth, he always anticipated my needs.
“How long was I asleep for?” My mouth felt cottony and the water hitting the back of my throat was a huge relief.
“Two hours, thirty-eight minutes.”
I flipped my head to the side, “You timed how long I slept?”
His mouth lifted and I caught a glimpse of his perfect white teeth, “It’s a habit.”
“You got a habit of timing other people sleep? Let me guess, you know how long it takes for me to get ready.”
His mouth opened and closed, but his blue eyes were alight with humor.
How handsome can you get, Webb?
“Spill it,” I urged. “Now’s the time to confess to your stalking abilities.”
He lifted his left hand to cover his mouth.
“Are you laughing?”
His shoulders shook and the look he gave me was so tender yet so hot at the same time that it made me clench my legs.
I’d always found him handsome.
Any hot-blooded woman would.
From his ice blue eyes to his strong jaw and thick lips, he was an A plus in the looks department.
Add in his body solidified with muscles from his neck to the tensile strength that his biceps carried and the mouth-watering six, maybe eight pack that he packed under his shirts, he was a picture of a man that made women swoon and drool.
While he was undoubtedly attractive, it was those rare moments that made him sexy as sin.
When he was teasing me, when he was giving me that elusive smile, when he was letting go of the burden in his shoulders.
“So how long, sweetheart,” I prodded, while taking my compact out of my purse. “How long does it take me to get ready?”
I checked myself on the small mirror. Hazel eyes, pert nose, lips that needed balm since they looked dry, and my hair could use help so I combed it with my hands.
I’m sure he didn’t time me when I got ready though he probably took half the time than I did.
“Two hours on Mondays and Wednesdays. An hour and fifteen on Thursdays and Fridays. Tuesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays vary.”
The fasten seatbelt sign was on and the flight attendants were doing their final check. In a few minutes, we’d be in D.C.
“Webb, you’re a creepy guy,” I said while giggling. He probably couldn’t help looking at the time when I got ready every day because like he said, it was habit. “I feel sorry for your future wife. She’d never be able to do anything without your knowledge.”
The smile instantly faded from his lips and his expression took on a darker hue.
He straightened in his seat and even though we were a fingerbreadth apart, I felt like I’d just created an ocean of distance between us.
“Your father’s waiting for us.” The short clipped tones of his announcement just widened the bridge between us.
I shifted in my seat, trying to look outside the window, catching glimpses of the lights from the buildings down below.
I wished I could take back what I said that caused the change in his mood.
But like everything in life, there were no takebacks.
I had no idea that he’d be touchy about it.
How can I when he barely talked to me about his life?
Why was it that the person who we wanted the most was also the person who was the hardest to understand?
I sighed as I took in the view as the Washington Monument could now be differentiated from the clouds.
It was not easy to crack his shell.
Diamonds rarely are.
“How was your flight?” my dad asked.
We were sitting in one of the raved about Italian restaurants in the heart of Pennsylvania Avenue.
“It was good. I slept for most of it,” I replied as I forked pappardelle into my mouth. This pasta dish was heaven, the mushroom really stood out and the sauce, wow.
“Good.” As he smiled, the lines by his forehead became more prominent. His hair had been changing to gray for a couple of years now, but he carried aging beautifully. I used to hear the nurses whisper about my dad, maybe there were even a few who flirted with him. Circumstances might not have been kind to him but time had.
“I miss you, Dad.” The words so true. No one can compare to my dad. He was a busy man, but he never failed to show his love to me. My mom gave me life, but it was my dad who pushed the boundaries of research to keep me alive. “I wish we could see each other more often.”
“Miss you too, A-bug.” A-bug was his childhood moniker for me. “If it wasn’t for – ”
I waved my hand since I had a mouthful of pasta, swallowing it quickly so I could interrupt him, “I know, Dad. I know. I’m just saying it because I really miss you, but I wouldn’t trade your time for all the good you do for everyone.”
His green eyes misted, “I wish I could spend more time with you, but we’re at the cusp of this breakthrough and they need me to ensure the success of this project.”
I maneuvered my right hand to the side of the water glass, careful not to spill it since our table was small and the plates of food were enormous, and touched his. “Daddy, I’m a big girl now. I’m fine and I’m safe with Webb and Liam. I understand why. I’ve understood since I was seven, so if you keep force feeding me excuses, I’ll barf.”
His laugh was loud and I knew that even when he was a hundred years old, he’d always be my hero.
Occasions such as these were special. As rare as the phone calls he made nowadays. His life was meant for a bachelor. In a way, I empathized with my mom when they were married. He was and always would be the everlasting spouse of science. A few of his colleagues visited me in the hospital a couple of times and when they thought I was asleep, they’d talk about dating women. Since my dad had been a fresh divorcee at that time, they’d pawned him off to the single ladies but he shrugged them off. He often told me that his life’s legacy was me and his contributions to science.
“That Liam guy is pretty interesting.” I recognized that look in his eyes and the tone of his voice. I didn’t push my dad to date, but the same couldn’t be said of him. When I turned eighteen, he’d invited his friends and his friends’ sons for a party at our house back then in Atlanta. He always thought that since I was cooped up in the hospital, once I was out, I should go out there and explore.
As much as I’d love to explore, I didn’t want it to be with any of the guys that he’d invited – preppy, clean-cut, and Ivy Leaguers.
Clean-cut and Ivy Leaguers I could forgive but preppy?
Jesus, the oxford shirts and the ironed khakis weirded me out. Plus, they all had my father’s blessing which meant they were all out of the running. If I dated someone, it would be because I wanted to date them, not because they came pre-approved.
I was allowed a few frogs before the prince.
“Dad, Liam’s off limits.” I scolded him while his eyes danced with coyness. “He’s cool and all, but he’s my bodyguard.”
“Hmm…” He grabbed a piece of the Italian bread and took a bite.
“What?” I rolled my eyes, and sipped on the Italian cream soda that effervesced with so much goodness.
“What about Webb?” His look was querying, but his face was all-knowing. A man who had Nobel Peace prizes stacking up his portfolio didn’t miss much.
“What about him?” I countered. The best offense is a great defense. This tidbit was from the number one Broncos’ fan sitting across from me. He was born and raised in Denver so it was embedded in his DNA to love that team. My DNA must’ve missed the mark because I barely tolerated football. Or any other sports. Basketball held my interest for a split second because Denton played it.
“He’s very interesting too,” he said before eating his shrimp linguini and sipping Greco di Tufo, a white wine that he’d loved since he took a trip to Italy.
I stuffed my mouth with more of my food so it wouldn’t look like I had anything to say. The truth was, I had so many things to say about Webb. But those were not for my father’s ears, and he just happened to be Webb’s boss.
I raised my head in assent instead.
“Am I going to hear your speech tomorrow?” I asked, after taking another sip of my Italian soda. I could’ve had wine, but I wasn’t in the mood for it. And sometimes, alcohol messed with my system – I’d get to the point of being tipsy then drunk within a matter of a glass.
His face brightened, and he took another drink from his wineglass.
“It might be too early for you.” The look on his face was contradictory. Of course, my dad wanted me there. It was his first time speaking in front of the Senate. It was the first time a person in his position would be standing in front of the podium of Capitol Hill.
“Yeah it might be.” I was calling his bluff. He was one of the country’s most brilliant men, but at this table, he was my dad first and foremost. So I did what I did best – heckle him. “I won’t be up until about 11. What time are you speaking?”
His face fell, “Ten…”
“I’ll meet you around lunch, then?” I should be awarded a Golden Globe for this performance. “It’ll be my treat, Dad.”
“Okay…” He was trying to show understanding, but the dropping of his shoulders didn’t lie. “We can meet around 11:30. I’ll only be speaking for twenty minutes max. It’s not that big of a deal. I know you’re busy with your school work. I’m just happy that you were able to fly here for a few days.”
“I’m surprised you remembered that I’ve always wanted to check out D.C., Dad.” Now I was baiting him.
Academy Awards, I’m waiting for my nomination for best white lie telling.
My dad not only had an eidetic memory, sometimes called photographic memory; he was also one of the few who remembered everything.
When did I get my first tooth, Dad? He’d say, “At five months and twelve days.” He’d go on to describe what the weather was like that day, how long he carried me for, and if you asked him what song was playing in the background, if there was any, he’d tell you the fact without blinking.
“You told me when you were eleven that it was your wish to spend a day in D.C,” he answered as if he was remembering it like it was yesterday. “You had finished a second round of treatment and we were waiting for the lab results to see if they were effective. You asked me to turn on the TV and The Food Network guy with the wild white hair was in D.C. He was visiting the old town diners and even with the volume turned down, his voice came out really loud.”
I pictured myself at that point in time, and if I ever doubted my father’s love, it would be completely erased by those trips back down memory lane. He was there, through the pain, the joys, the uphill, and the downhill. My childhood wasn’t an easy one and since he was there every step of the way, his recollection of those memories wasn’t likely an easy one either. I was a child and he and my mom were the bearers and holders of news that consisted of: the treatment not working, my immune cells fighting off the experimental drugs, and the seemingly endless bouts of pain and discomfort that I tried so much to hide because I didn’t want to burden them anymore. I’d asked my mom if having a sick child strained their marriage and she often rebuked my question as nonsense. She often said that having me well was the single-most priority that she and Dad had. Nothing else mattered. So maybe in a roundabout way, she had given me her answer. I was the center of their world while their marriage crumbled. Both of them never remarried, so maybe, just like any other child of divorce, my wish would be granted – that one day, they’d find their way back to each other.
“I love you, Dad,” I said, cutting off his trip back to the past. “Thank you for being such a great father. I just want you to know that you’re my number one.”
The man who didn’t flinch at spearheading millions of dollars of research, the man who defied the odds by becoming Science’s honored man of the year multiple times while having dyslexia, and the man who threatened to resign from his job if they didn’t allow his research to be used in my care, had his eyes tearing up and he grabbed a table napkin to wipe his eyes.
“Love you too, A-bug.”
“I’ll be there at your speech, Dad. Bright and early. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
He nodded his greying head and gave me a huge smile.
The server came to check if we wanted to order dessert and I politely declined for the both of us. Dad’s A1C levels were high, I had been bugging him about it since no one really pushed him to get his sugar tested. He had been warned by his personal physician before that his sweet tooth was going to get him in trouble so I wasn’t at all surprised when Dad had called me to tell me that his results were elevated. Doctors were the worst patients because they thought they were immune to sickness.
After paying the bill, we took a stroll down Pennsylvania Avenue and took in the beautiful city. The wide open avenues offered a glorious view to the White House and the polite hellos from the strangers that we passed by made me feel even more welcome.
The city was scenic and the sights were amazing to behold. As we walked to the steps of the historic Willard Hotel, I held my dad’s hand and let myself savor this special moment. I could see Webb and Liam following closely behind us. They carried a relaxed vibe too. Maybe it was because they knew that they were surrounded by their friends in the city. Liam had mentioned that a few of their buddies served the President and they were planning a meet-up sometime tomorrow.
“Dad?” I said, hoping that I could get a peek into his psyche about an important subject.
“Yes, A-bug?” It was the voice he used to tuck me in bed at night, when he’d read me countless stories of princesses and their warrior princes.
“If I liked a guy…”
“Since when?”
“Dad…”
“Okay, I’m listening.” He skipped on the front step of the hotel’s entrance and I followed.
“And he’s a few years older than me…”
He turned his head and his green eyes narrowed, “How much older?”
“I’m not telling…but let’s just say by a dozen years.” I removed my hand from his elbow and my thumb started picking on the clasp of my purse. I’d worn a simple green dress and black heels to dinner and this little black bag matched nicely with my outfit.
Dad had worn a business jacket and with a bow tie to match and now, his right hand was pulling on the tie.
“You wanted me to date, Dad,” I said, hoping that he was okay with the age gap. I said twelve even though Webb was ten years older than me; I just didn’t want to give too much away. “And I really like this guy.”
“Does he like you?” He was still pulling on his bowtie.
I put my hand on his fidgeting arm and responded, “I think so. I’m not sure.”
Even if my Dad wasn’t agreeable to the age difference between Webb and I, I’d have the final say on who I dated. I just had to convince the guy that I wanted to be with, to be with me.
Oy vey! What a complicated web we live in. See what I did there? Webb, web.
He stilled his hand, looked at me, and pulled me into a hug. “I know you’re not a baby anymore. You haven’t been for a long time now, but you’ll always be my baby girl. If he’ll make you happy, I don’t care if he’s fifteen years older than you. Twenty would be really pushing it. Not because I’m an ageist or something. It will just be odd for me to see you date a guy who’s old enough to be my golf buddy.”
“Dad, you hate golf.” My voice was muffled yet I reminded him of the fact that he couldn’t stand to be in the sun for too long which was a major requirement for golf.
“I’m just trying to make a point, it would be odd… But if he loved you and you loved him, and he treated you as the most precious woman that you are, then I would hold my objections until I was given the chance to get to know him.”
“Thanks Dad.” I hugged him back as he gave me another bear hug.
“No problem, A-bug,” he said, before planting a peck on my forehead, just like the way he always did.
We were all staying on the same floor – Webb, me, and Liam. My dad was two floors above so the elevator stopped for me first.
“Goodnight,” my dad said before giving me another hug.
“Goodnight Dad. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The elevator door opened and I stepped out. Webb and Liam were at the bar of the hotel. Webb texted me that he’d be coming up in a few minutes.
I walked towards Room 22 and before I pushed in the key, I heard the elevator door ding again.
“Anyone I know, A-bug?” It was my dad. He’d probably gone up and turned right back down to ask the question.
I smiled despite myself. I knew that he’d be curious. He wasn’t one to let things go especially if it was the first time I’d ever talked to him about something as trivial and as private as dating. He often chided me for having a crush on Aaron Carter, so there was no way I was telling him who until that person and I were seriously dating.
“Goodnight Dad. You need to rest for your speech tomorrow. Stop worrying about my love life. Or lack thereof.”
“Fine.” He didn’t even stick out his head, we were basically carrying on a conversation without seeing each other. “Sweet dreams, A-bug.”
“You too, Dad.” I turned the key to the right and stepped right into the room fit for a princess.
I wasn’t sure if my dad or Webb booked the room, but my gosh, it was splendid. The soft bed called to me so I hurriedly wiped the makeup off my face, brushed my teeth, and jumped into the Egyptian cotton softness.
Before I drifted off to sleep, I texted Webb that I was in my room.
He texted right back. Goodnight. Pleasant dreams.
His words were always so succinct, so formal, so unruffled.
One day, Webb, I will ruffle you and you will like it.
I fell asleep thinking about ways to tousle his orderly ways and needless to say, I had a lot of pleasant dreams.