Sugar Daddies (46 page)

“Stop,” she said. “Please stop, Carl.”

“But your dad
isn’t
that man, Katie. Not like mine was. He’s just a guy who fucked up, who didn’t know what to do for the best, who doesn’t know how to make things right between two daughters he thinks the fucking world of.”

“Stop!” she said. “This isn’t how it is, Carl. This isn’t who he is. He didn’t want me. He never fucking wanted me!”

Her lip was trembling. It broke my heart.

“I thought he would be someone. I thought he would have a million answers, a million sorries. He didn’t even say sorry, Carl, not once. He came and dragged me out of my home, just to show me how wonderful his fucking life was, how wonderful his other fucking kids were, and then he’d drop me back again with a few poxy words about
see you next time
. Every fucking week, over and over, one long cycle of gloating and disappointment. I cried every weekend, Carl, every fucking weekend.” She stared out of the window, eyes glistening as a family with two young kids passed us by with a shopping trolley. “The guy’s an asshole and I want nothing to do with him. I want nothing to do with any of them.”

“But you’re doing it, Katie, you’re right there. I’m so proud of you, you have no idea how proud I am, that the spirited young woman in her
bite me
,
baby
t-shirt turned out to be such a talented, mature, dedicated, professional member of our internship programme.” I sighed. “And David’s proud, too. I promise you, Katie, he’s so proud of you. He’s always been proud of you.”

Her shoulders turned rigid. “No! He hasn’t! He’s not!”

“He is,” I said. “I’ve known him for twenty years. He’s the only person who ever gave me a shot. The only person who took the time to get to know me when I was a nobody. I know him, Katie, he’s like the father I always dreamt of.”

“
You
have him then! He didn’t do shit for me! Didn’t take
any
time for me when I was a nobody! He wasn’t there, Carl, he ditched my mum
and abandoned her, abandoned
us
, just to rock up
again like the big fucking I am and parade me around a life I wasn’t good enough for! He didn’t want my mum and he didn’t want me. Rubbing my face in a life I could have had if I was
good
enough just makes him a cunt, Carl, it doesn’t make him a fucking messiah. I know he gave you a shot, but he’s still an asshole who messed my mum’s life up, still an asshole that didn’t give a shit about me.”

“That’s what you think?”

She glared at me, and the first tears spilled, rolling down her cheeks as her breath caught in her throat. “That’s what I
know
.” She let out a little sob
and it panged in my gut. “Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just let sleeping dogs lie? A couple of months and I’m out. Harrison Gables and I’m done. I never have to see him again. Any of them.”

“Because
my
dad was a cunt, Katie. Because even when he’d fucked me over, gone to prison and cast me aside like I meant nothing, I still wrote to him. Every week I wrote to him. Every week I prayed he’d write back. Even when I knew he was an asshole, that he didn’t give a shit about me, even then I still wrote to him and still cried every night because he didn’t write back.”

“We both have cunts for fathers.” She tried to laugh through the tears. “Maybe we should join a support group.”

“But you don’t,” I said. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You have a father that made mistakes, but he loves you.
Your
father loves you.”

“He didn’t want me, Carl.” She let out a sob. “How can he love me if he didn’t want me?”

My heartbeat was in my stomach, my temples thumping as I wrestled with the words in my throat.

But I had to say them.

I always do.

“He didn’t even know you existed, Katie.”

Carl pulled up outside mine, and the car wasn’t even stationary as I opened the door.

He took my wrist, held me back. “Katie, wait. I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have… we could go home, talk about this… think things through…”

“Stop,” I said. “I have to ask. I have to know.”

I took a moment to stare at him, and he was worried. Scared. His mouth was tight and his eyes were sad and lost and nothing like the Carl Brooks I worked with all day. But I didn’t have time for that, not right now.

“I have to do this,” I said. “Please, let me go, Carl.” I tugged my wrist from him.

“This is becoming a habit, me spouting my mouth off and sending you running home.”

“This isn’t the same,” I said. And it wasn’t, it wasn’t the same at all. “I’m running for answers, not running away. I’m all in, with you and Rick, whether you spout your mouth off or not. Ok?”

He nodded but didn’t smile. “I’ll wait for you,” he said.

“You don’t have to…”

“I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere, Katie. Take as long as you need.” He put the car in neutral and turned the engine off. “Take all night, I’ll still be right here.”

I managed a weak smile, but my head was already spinning, churning through memories and reflections, my heart in my stomach, all twisted up.

All through the drive back here I’d been grasping for evidence that Carl’s revelation couldn’t possibly be true, struggling to recall the moment I’d first found out my dad didn’t want to know me. That he’d abandoned my mum as a pregnant teenager and said he didn’t want to know either of us. That he knew I was a kid, growing up just a few miles away, that he hadn’t cared enough to want to be there. I knew that, right? I’d known that for as long as I could remember.

And that was the problem. I couldn’t remember ever
not
knowing that. I couldn’t recall a single conversation from my past that confirmed anything, not for definite, not a single one.

I’d always just known. Just like I’d known how to breathe. Just like I’d known how to walk, and eat, and go to sleep at night. I’d had fantasies that it wasn’t true, that my father was lost or incapacitated, on some adventure somewhere far away rather than being a straight out asshole, but I’d
known
they were fantasies.

And then one day he’d just shown up. And I’d been angry, upset that he’d taken so long, upset that he hadn’t wanted to know me.

But I’d never
said
that, not to him. I didn’t know him well enough, didn’t
know
him at all. I hadn’t sought answers, because I already knew every part of the story I cared to know, and he was too much of a bragging asshole to stoop low enough to apologise, even if I’d have wanted him to.

That’s what I’d thought.
Known
. That’s what
happened
. It
happened.

“There must be a mistake,” I said. “Mum will probably wet herself when she realises how stupid the question is.” I let out a laugh that sounded fake enough to make me cringe. “I just can’t remember the details. That’s all this is.” I sighed. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

His eyes pierced mine. “Forget I’m here, Katie, just concentrate on you.”

I nodded, and then I left him.

Mum was watching TV, some crappy weeknight quiz show after dinner. Her half-finished bowl of pasta was still at her side.

“Hi, sweetheart. Have you eaten? There’s some pasta on the hob.” She turned back to the screen. “Edison! Thomas Edison! He made the lightbulb!” The team on screen got it wrong and she let out a sigh, shook her head. “Dimwits. Where do they even find these people?”

I could only stare at her, at the mum who’d raised me, who’d loved me, who’d always been there. I took a seat on the armchair next to her, perched on the edge like a dithery little bird.

I felt so stupid, so angry at my thumping heart for even considering the need to ask the question. But I did need to.

“Mum, I need to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth, ok?”

She shot me a glance, and her eyebrows lifted. “What is it? My God, Katie, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She paused the TV, turned in her seat to face me.

I took a breath. “He knew who I was, didn’t he? The sperm donor. He knew we were here, that
I
was here. He knew, right?” I smiled, waiting for her laughter, her look of surprise.

But it didn’t come. She looked like she’d seen a ghost, too.

“What did he say?” Her eyes were so wide. “What did he tell you?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. He didn’t… he never told me anything…” I fiddled with the hem of my skirt. “He did know, right? He knew about me?”

She was quiet.

“Mum, tell me.” I fought the panic. “Did he know about me? He did, didn’t he?”

“It’ll change everything.” Her voice sounded pained and I felt it. She sighed. “We said we wouldn’t dwell on the past… we agreed…”

Her eyes welled up, and I felt horrible. I felt terrible. Guilty and nasty and ungrateful.

“Just tell me,” I said. “Please, Mum, just tell me.”

She shook her head. “He didn’t… I didn’t…”

“You didn’t what?”

She breathed slowly, deeply, closed her eyes. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell him.”

My mouth turned dry. “About me? You couldn’t tell him about me? Why not? Why couldn’t you?” My thoughts tumbled, rolling and lurching through my brain. “You mean he didn’t know? He really didn’t know I existed? Didn’t know who I was? Didn’t know anything? Mum, I don’t understand, I don’t…” I swallowed my panic. “Why?”

“Katie, I…”

“Why?” I repeated. “Why couldn’t you tell him?”

She took a moment. “Katie,
please try and understand. I was nineteen years old. I was just a kid. I was out of a job, without anyone, without
him
. I was hurt, and I was scared.
That’s
why I didn’t tell him.”

The horror. It knocked me right in the gut. “You lied? To me? You lied
about
me? You lied to him?”

“I didn’t lie to you, Katie…” She looked at me, looked into me. “I just hid the truth. You were young. It didn’t seem right. It never seemed right to tell you.”

“But I knew… that he fired you… I knew he left you…”

She shrugged. “You picked bits up, eavesdropping, bits of conversations. Telephone calls with friends when I thought you were playing. You were like a sponge, sweetheart, taking everything in, but I never told you. I never lied to you, but I never told you, not about any of it. And you stopped asking, when you got a little bit older, you stopped asking.”

“But you lied to
him
! You lied to him about
me
!”

“Because I was scared!” she said. “I was so scared!”

I held up my hands, astounded. The shock ricocheting around my brain. “Scared of what? What were you scared of?”

“Scared of him.” She cleared her throat. “Not
of
him, not like that. Scared of what he could
do
.”