Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
It’s natural for friends to drift apart after college. With a career like mine—one that takes you all over the world and keeps you on the move—there are a lot of people I lost touch with. I just always wished Niomi hadn’t been one of them. It’s irrational, but Niomi felt like the one who got away. Can someone “get away” when you’ve never had them? I clear my throat, needing to keep my voice even so Janelle doesn’t detect any spike of interest now that there is the chance I’ll get to see Niomi.
“You, uh, talked to Niomi about this?”
“No, I thought I’d have more leverage if I already had your buy-in.”
“But you don’t have my buy-in.”
“Yet.” She rushes on before I can interrupt again. “Picture this. That Thursday or Friday of homecoming weekend, we set up a huge screen on the yard so everyone can see and we could simulcast it on the campus radio station.”
“Nelle, I—”
“Your daughter is Finley’s centennial homecoming queen. Don’t you think it would be special to her having you so involved in her big weekend?”
“You are mercilessly using my daughter to get me to do this. It’s manipulative and beneath you.”
“Yeah, but is it working?”
I laugh because even seeing through what she’s doing, there’s something guileless about Janelle. Always has been.
“Lemme talk to Celine and I’ll get back to you. Is this number you’re calling from good?”
“Yeah, you can reach me here. It’s my cell.”
“How’d you get my cell, by the way?”
“Like you said, I run things now.”
I can’t fight back the grin Janelle always effortlessly coaxed from all of us. “Good-bye, Nelle.”
When we disconnect, I stare at the phone in my hand for a few seconds, processing how out of touch I must be with Celine’s life. I know the basics. I pay her tuition, rent, and credit card bill. I remember a few of the internships she’s applying for because she specifically said she didn’t want my help. She didn’t want special treatment, so she’s been using her mother’s last name Powell since they moved from France so she could attend high school and college here. On the one hand I respect her wanting to make her own way in the field where I’ve found so much success. She doesn’t want to lean on my name, but I also want to be more involved.
Her mother’s voice echoes from the past in my ears; pleas for me to take off work and spend time with Celine. To come off the road. I’ve missed a lot, but my baby girl as homecoming queen at our alma mater? At least I can make that.
“Daddy, bonjour.” Her mother and I are both American, but French language and culture weave in and out of everything she does.
“You can take the girl out of Paris, but you can’t take Paris out of the girl, huh? How are you?”
“I’m fine. Um . . . what’s up? Something wrong?”
“Can’t your old man just call to see how you’re doing?”
“You can, but . . .”
But I don’t often. I sigh and wish I was calling just to be calling.
“Actually I just got off the phone with Janelle Hopkins.”
“From student affairs?”
“Well, yeah, but she and I were actually pretty good friends in college.”
“I think she mentioned that in, like, freshman orientation when she said she’d be keeping an eye on me for you.”
The exasperation in her voice sketches a grin onto my face.
“If I couldn’t be there in person, I had my allies. Janelle mentioned you’ve been voted homecoming queen.”
“Yeah. I was gonna tell you. It just happened. “
“Your mother knows?”
“Of course.”
Of course.
“She’s been busy,” Celine says quickly, a defense in her words. “I told her I wanted to tell you myself. I didn’t think . . .well, I didn’t think you would . . .”
Mind? Care?
Frustration wars with my own guilt.
“It’s not a big deal, Dad.”
“What’s not a big deal? That you won or that you didn’t tell me?”
The pause between us gathers dust while I wait for her response.
“I mean . . .there are a lot of things about my life you don’t know. That’s not new.”
When she was growing up, there seemed to be a bottomless pit of grace when I missed birthday parties because I was in Russia or recitals because there was a war. Big things. Important things, but the resignation, the ancient disappointment in her voice makes me wish I could roll back the years and make different choices.
“I’d like to be there,” I tell her. “I assume your mother will be.”
“It’s her and Pop’s anniversary. They booked a cruise months ago so they actually can’t come.”
The first time I heard my daughter call her stepfather “Pop” I nearly lost my shit, but Annette told me to get out of my feelings and be grateful there was a good man consistently present in Celine’s life. Annette married her husband Cedric when Celine was only ten years old, and he has been there in a way my job hasn’t always allowed me to be.