Page 6 of Desperate Pucker
My phone rings and I walk over to grab it from my bag. When I see it’s my dad calling, I sigh. That familiar tension grips me. I don’t really want to talk to him. He’s going to ask me how my meeting with Ryker went, and I don’t want to tell him how bad it was.
I contemplate ignoring him and letting his call go to voicemail, but a tinge of guilt hits. I don’t know why. He’s doneway more terrible things, and he doesn’t seem all that guilty about any of them.
I answer the phone.
“Madeline. Hi.”
“Hi, Dad.”
“How did your meeting with Ryker go?”
“It went okay.”
“Just okay?”
I tense up at the pressing tone of his voice. I can tell he’s holding back. He’s so used to speaking in a firm, direct tone. That’s how he talks to everyone in his life—staff, employees, friends.
He’s different with me, though. He tries to soften his tone. He’s trying to sound like a concerned dad. I hate it.
“He wasn’t happy that I don’t have any coaching or teaching experience,” I say.
He sighs. “I’m sure his opinion will change once he starts working with you.”
I contemplate telling him that Ryker is outright refusing to work with me, but I hold back. I don’t want to deal with that mess right now. And I don’t want to make this conversation any longer than it has to be.
“What time should I send the driver to pick you up to take you to the airport?” he asks.
“I’m not going with you to Aspen,” I say, annoyed that he’s pushing this trip on me.
He’s quiet for a long second, and for the briefest moment, that guilty feeling sparks up inside of me once more.
And then, just like I have a million times before, I silently wish that things were different. That my dad and I could have a normal relationship, that we could talk to each other like dads and daughters do, with love and humor and ease.
But it won’t ever be that way. Because we’re not normal.
“I was hoping you’d come, Madeline. We all were. Preston and Claire were really looking forward to seeing you.”
I hold back a bitter laugh. “We both know that’s not true. Please don’t lie. And please don’t invite me to things if you know they’ll be there. They don’t want to be around me.”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “They take a while to warm up to people, Madeline.”
This time, I don’t stop the bitter chuckle that falls from my mouth. “A while? They’ve hated me for my whole life.”
“Madeline. Don’t say that. Your brother and sister don’t hate you.”
“Half-brother.Half-sister,” I correct.
“You know I don’t think of you as their half-sister, Madeline. You’re siblings. You’re all my kids.”
Frustration and raw pain simmer beneath my hard tone. “Actually, I don’t know that, Dad. You treated me very differently from them. Probably because I was born as a result of your affair with my mom, while you were still married to their mom.”
I swallow back the lump in my throat. Every time he brings this up, it always ends this way: him claiming he loves us all equally. Me remembering the ways he doesn’t.
And every time, it kills me. Because it’s another reminder of how unwanted I am. How I’m not good enough—not for the Olympics, not for figure skating, not even for my own family.
He lets out a heavy sigh. “It was…complicated navigating things with Preston and Claire and their mom, and then you and your mom.”
I swallow again, keeping my voice steady. “I bet it was.”
