The Forever of Ella and Micha - By Jessica Sorensen Page 0,37
my dad, asking him where he wants to meet up.
He texts me back quicker than I anticipated, asking me if I can meet him at the bakery up on Ninth Street in about an hour. Wavering, I finally text back that I will.
“Never mind. I can’t go out.” I put on a black hoodie and zip it up. “I have to go meet someone.”
He targets me with a condemning look. “A girl someone?”
I scoop up the house keys from off the top of the dresser. “No, it’s just someone I used to know.”
His face twists with confusion. “It’s not Naomi, is it? Because I’d like to advise that you stay away from that—she’s crazy. She basically tried to rape me last night.”
“Like you didn’t like it.”
“Hey, I like my women and everything, but she’s a little too much. She went from the bartender to some dude handing out flyers on the street to me. Besides, she has a thing for you.”
“I know that.” I put my wallet into the back pocket of my jeans. “You weren’t the only one she hit on last night.”
“Wow.” His eyes widen. “And I thought I was bad.”
I stuff my phone into the pocket of my hoodie. “Can you do me a favor? Can you tell Dylan or Chase when—if—they show up, that I might not make it to practice?”
He rummages through the very slim selection of food in the fridge. “Do you think they’ll show up? I mean, you haven’t seen anyone but Naomi since you got back and neither of them showed up to practice yesterday.”
“I know that.” I open the front door and notice it’s raining. “But just in case they show, will you tell them?”
He shrugs as he selects a carton of juice out of the fridge. “Yeah, I’ll tell them… but doesn’t it seem like your band’s falling apart?”
“Kind of,” I mutter and shut the door. Pulling my hood over my head, I trot down stairs and out into the rain, splashing through puddles as I march toward the street.
Ever since the little incident with Naomi, things in the band have gotten rocky. It started with her not wanting to be around me, and then Dylan and Chase lost interest when they discovered they could make a lot of money bartending at this club exclusively for women.
Right now, though, I’m more concerned about what I’m about to walk into with my father.
When I arrive at the bakery and see my dad sitting at a table, I almost pussy out. I tap my hand anxiously on my leg, staring at him through the window as rain drips down on me. He’s reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee. Dressed in a gray suit and a red tie with a briefcase next to his feet, he looks like a lawyer. Suddenly, I realize I have no idea what he does or who he is. He’s nothing more than a stranger, like the people passing by me on the sidewalk.
I man up and walk into the bakery. It smells like vanilla and kind of reminds me of Ella. Two of the eight tables are occupied and the cashier girl behind the display, filled with cupcakes and cookies, undresses me with her eyes.
My dad looks up from his coffee and his aqua eyes widen. “Oh, Micha, you showed up.”
I slide out a chair and sit down across from him. “Of course I showed up. When I say I’m going to be somewhere, I always show up. That’s the kind of person I am and you’d know that if you knew me.”
He clears his throat multiple times while smoothing out invisible wrinkles on his tie. “Look, Micha, I’m really sorry for what I’ve done. For being a shitty father and for just not being there.”
My forehead creases as I cross my arms and slump back in the chair. “I don’t get why you’re saying that, because the last two times I saw you, you made it pretty clear that you didn’t really care about me and you wanted nothing to do with me.”
Tearing some packets open, he adds sugar to his coffee with unsteady hands. “Things change… some stuff happened, and… well, I need your help.”
I stare at him expressionlessly. “Is that why you said you were sorry to me? Because you want something from me?”
He discards the empty packets onto the table. “Do you want me to get you something? Do you want some coffee?”