I stared.

My hands rubbed up and down my arms. Legs crossed, gaze looking anywhere besides who was positioned in front of me.

Cassidy rotated a pinkie ring. A second smaller circle was in the middle where it twirled as the rest stayed firmly on. Butterflies etched into the gray metal.

We waited thirty minutes for Papa to arrive.

With the back and forth, squeezing, twisting out all three schedules, picking a day and time to meet up, it became a challenge. The clouds created a gray aurora, the light shined above the clouds, our window seat made it accessible and easy to spot his truck.

Bendable plastic menus laid flat on the booth's table. Fork and knife wrapped up in a white napkin, turquoise paper tied and kept them all together. The dessert and wine menu flattened.

Where is he? Early afternoon traffic would be clear.

This was my full day off.

My mental checklist counted to twenty-seven activities and "things" that needed to get done. Clean Amadeus's home. Buy cat litter. Sweep the living room. Trim my fingernails; my thumbs, which were the ones left with reasonable length, but I needed to maintain the symmetry. And many, many more. All were higher in priority compared to this meeting or as I liked to categorize it: an intervention.

I made a promise.

A twisted, drag feet on cemented floor kind of promise.

The waitress eyed our two waters with lemon, she had refilled our drinks twice, even though by now the water seemed to spill over the brim. Each visit, she did something different: delivered straws from her black apron pockets, asked three times if we wanted an appetizer to start them off, and what the third person would most likely drink. Cassidy and I answered differently.

"Sweet tea."

"Water."

We didn't look at each other.

The waitress brought out both.

The water and sweet tea claimed Papa's seat. Condensation pooled on the table, the two small puddles combined together as time went on.

I hope Papa is okay.

We couldn't call him. He turned off his phone whenever he drove. It's less of a distraction. Usually though, he'd contact me when he left his home.

Pulling my phone out, there was no new voicemail.

"We can reschedule," Cassidy declared. She pulled her hands off the table, placing them on her lap. "I-If you like."

"Papa should be here by now," I ignored my mo-, well, Cassidy's statement.

Twisting on my off-leather seat, my hip muscles tightened. I stretched to observe the parking lot in a "focus" position. Being in Cassidy's presence made me antsy, leaning from side to side on my chair. Another excuse to avoid me.

What was someone supposed to say after said person yelled at them?

I regretted nothing.

Wait, I did. Didn't I?

Just. Maybe. How I delivered my explanation. Yes. I could have had. Less bite. Still show my emotions, the ones I'd clung on, buried in the ground along with my memories until the water washed the dirt away, revealing those experiences.

Nevertheless, I needed to apologize.

Not for me.

But for Papa's sake.

"Let me call him," Cassidy said, there was something in her voice. Light hearted. Gentle. Almost as if she wanted to help.

Before I protested and lectured her about what Papa's habit was, Cassidy dialed. Cassidy placed her phone to her ear.

She's not going to get him. Let her have her moment. I guess, it's one way to make her feel like she's doing something right.

"Dad," Cassidy smiled, and glanced over to me. Her eyes were bright. The tree leaves in the golden hour sunshine was back. "Where are you?"

What?! She got a hold of Papa?

I leaned forward. The phone speaker held close to Cassidy. There were a few words, I could decipher: "what" and "mean."

"We are here at Suzzy's," Cassidy replied, "Ah, no. We haven't waited long."

He forgot.

"We'll see you soon."

I should have picked him up. I should have called him before I left. I should -

"Yes, she's here," Cassidy continued to talk, trying to catch my attention. "Let me give her the phone."

She held it out. "He wants to talk to you."

It was a flip-phone. Where the buttons had three or four letters on them, so when she texted she'd have to click on them a lot. Scratches etch on the sides, white dull horizontal marks, stood out against the gray material. I had one similar before college.

"Thanks."

Cassidy half-smiled. She handed it over.

I made sure not to touch her hand.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry, Sugar," Papa exasperated. His breath came in uneven breaths. Quick moments. Rustling wisped. He was moving on the other line. "This was not on purpose."

"Uh-huh."

"I promise."

"Uh-huh," I repeated, this time drawing out the response. A light humor. It earned a chuckle.

"You silly girl."

I giggled. "I guess, I believe you."

"Good. Because it's the truth."

"Sure," I grinned, and my eyes landed on Cassidy once more. She picked up the bendy menu for the fifth time, pretending to read the entrees' summary. At least, that's what I guessed. "We'll see you soon. Drive safely."

"As fast as I can!"

I sighed.

Papa ended the call with his laughter.

"Here," I slid Cassidy's phone on the table. In doing so, the flip phone clapped. "I'm guessing, it'll take fifteen to twenty minutes for him to get here."

"Okay."

"Cool."

It was back to the silence.

More time spent with her. And then I would endure being in her presence once Papa came.

When Papa gets here, it'll be a whole hour with her. And then eating. That's another hour. Two hours tops. I don't think I'll make it if I can do three hours total.

I reached out to my straw. I ripped the top off and then squished the rest of the paper. The paper became an accordion, scrunched up on the table. Out of habit, I dipped the straw in my water. Straw knocked the ice cubes, jingled in the glass. I picked it up, on the other end droplets formed. It curved in a semicircle. I moved the straw from the cup, and then hovered over the paper.

My finger released the end. Air traveled through the straw.

Water fell down on the paper.

All at once, the paper grew.

"Mama, would do that," Cassidy hummed. "I could never get the same results. I think I added too much water."

"It's quite easy."

I repeated the process, but with Papa's straw. Remove paper. Scrunch it up. Tight. My fingertips turned white.

Cassidy laughed, the weird spaced out laughter. Unsure. "She taught me when I was five. I thought the water was more intriguing."

"Did you want to drown the paper?" I asked, sharp and fast. "Not let it grow."

The silence answered.

The chair legs bobbled back and forth. The uneven height made me continue to rock, the motion created a nice rhythm. My eyes focused on the paper.

"Sugar, I-"

"Papa will be here soon. We can talk then."

"Why did you want to see me?" Cassidy asked.

" 'Why did you meet up?' "

I shook my head.

August said that too. Friendly's. Why was I there? My mind was already made up. They both see through me.

Cassidy's hands pressed on the table, "I don't understand. If you wanted to see me, then we'll be talking. Instead. We've been dancing around the issue. Why go through the texting, calls, figure out a date if you'll sit there staring at paper as if it has a voice."

The timid, small voice gone.

The direct voice arrived. "What do you want Sugar?"

Small spaces. Two different octaves.

Crap, she's going to cry, if she does. I will. I know I will.

"I'm here for Papa-"

"No Sugar. Why are you here?" she asked.

"I don't know." I answered. Quick.

Crossing my arms, I reached Cassidy's eyes.

"I want to know the reason why you're gone. But I don't. I want to know what you choose over me. But I don't want to hear it." I bit my lip, "I guess, whatever the reason. Situation. I know it'll never be enough. I'd think, oh yes, you left me for that. That makes sense, which in fact, it won't. I wouldn't be good enough. So. It's better to leave it unsaid . . . maybe? I – I don't know."

I wiped the corner tears, trying to escape. My throat constricted.

I thrusted my straw in the water. The lemon floated on top. I drank.

Don't look at me. Don't pity me. Don't look at me. Don't pity me.

"You're right. No reason is good enough for my decision. It happened though, Sugar," Cassidy whispered, "that's why I want to tell you. I want to apologize."

"You have already."

Cassidy nodded. "Y-Yeah I have."

"You can't pretend this makes everything rainbows and unicorns come out of thin air. I won't run into your arms as if everything is fine. That's not real."

"I went through a transition. Well – everyone does. I've had plenty. First one was when you were born. You were quiet, big brown eyes looking up at the nurses – they kept rubbing your chest to make sure you were breathing. You wouldn't make a sound. You'd open your mouth until finally you made a low noise. They realized you're just quiet."

I placed my hands underneath the table on my knees. Hands shaking. This was the first-time I was hearing any of this.

"Second, when I left you a month before. The lights turned off. Water stopped running in our sinks and plumbing. We couldn't flush the toilet, you'd say, 'are we going to pee on the grass today?' Fruit flies ate half of the moldy oranges and honey crisp apples we had out on the table. I'd get you to play hide and seek and the quiet game. So, the landlord wouldn't think we were home."

"I knew," Cassidy mumbled. "I didn't deserve you. I couldn't keep a job for more than a month. Sometimes, I was lucky for two jobs for that one month. But then . . . I couldn't afford anyone to watch you. I promised myself not to ask Mom for help. Ever when she'd call and ask how you were doing. How I was. Sent a letter once a week. I pretended we were healthy."

"I had to leave you." She rubbed her hands up and down. "Once I did. I grew into bad habits. Tequila was my best friend. The jittery sensation, those awful questions filling my mind, where am I going to leave, what job will I have, will Cassidy forgive me, or maybe stay with him, whoever I was with at the time. Those thoughts. Endless ideas. The ones that keep you going, spinning like the fan on the ceiling because you can't sleep. Yes. Tequila quieted those questions. Forgot time."

I closed my eyes.

I kept my mouth shut.

She thought about me?

"The cards. Mom helped remind me. Your tea party tenth birthday. Sixteenth birthday, the theme was homemade cookies. High-school graduation invite, senior picture with Mom and Dad. The P.O. Box was the only thing I made sure to pay for."

"It was shitty. All round – I don't really know. What. Who. Or how. Just something inside me grew. Probably after the nurse, from my twentieth blackout, this time I woke up in a hospital. I remember what the nurse said, 'You should have died. With that much alcohol in your system.' I don't know. I got sick. Real sick. I cursed. Threw needles, my own bag of water at them. Once you go down the cave – it's not easy coming up. I . . . " Cassidy's voice faded. "I can't go back there. I can't fully explain."

I breathed in and out my nose. Hoping. Praying. Cassidy couldn't hear my heartbeat. How it increased. How my eyes stung. How my nose was turning red.

This is what she lived through. All these years . . .

"I lived in a cocoon. That's the best way I can describe it." Cassidy licked her lips. "I created a barrier. From the outside world. Like the caterpillar. It chooses to wrap itself up. Protect it. Then guess what. It's left with their thoughts. Demons – guilt. Those gross waves that I've been drowning in. Facing whatever choices I had made, good and bad. It has to learn. I had to. It has to undergo a change."

She cried. Cassidy ignored the tears sliding down her cheeks.

"Months turned into a year. Took awhile to get a therapist. Then I joined the AA. I – I arrived late. They had to bribe me with smarties. One incentive. Until I became the first one there. They knew my name. I shared with them about you, Mom, Dad, all the in-betweens."

"My goal was to meet you. To be with Mom. Those thoughts kept me back. What will you say, they don't miss you, how will you ever make this right." Cassidy gripped the table. "Then I got your card. About Mom. I didn't know. I – I'm sorry. I thought." She shook her head. "I was wrong. I'm sorry. I'm sorry it took this long for me to be here."

Customers were walking in and out of the Suzzy's. Nice chatter. Waiters and waitresses stacked up glass plates, straightening up the spoons.

Cassidy wouldn't meet my eyes.

In my line of training, I knew the signs. Repeating behaviors. Touching, twitch. Spinning of Cassidy's ring with butterflies – renewal. Rebirth. The quickness to push the small menu with desserts and alcohol on my side.

She was like my job. Like my clients.

But more.

This time.

She was like Mama. On a white stiff bed. Asking multiple questions, who are you, can you get me real dessert, and would you get me a blanket? Sharing stories of her little one. Of myself.

She was my m-

Cassidy got up from her chair, "I don't think Dad will be here. I-I'll get going."

I jumped up.

"No, wait – "

Where is she going?

"I thought you-"

"Mom please."

Cassidy froze. Her hands lingered on the chair's backing. Her hair ends curled inward towards her neck and face. Scarlet nose. Like mine.

"Stay." My voice wavered. A soft smile. Eye contact remained.

Cassidy returned the smile.

"Okay."

😭 😭 😭

The feels.

This one got me.

Really hard.

I think it was the deep core emotion that Cassidy felt: guilt.

That can be a big unhealthy motivator. Goodness, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Thank you! Thank you! 😘

You've been amazing with your patience and fantastic support (reading, adding this story to your reading list, voting, commenting, recommending, everything)!!

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You're the best.

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