Payback
he phone call shattered the silence, jolting him and breaking his concentration. Everyone
at work had gone home, and he was using the time, and lack of interruptions, to fix a
frustrating computer problem. He grabbed the phone angrily.
"Yes!" he said, not hiding his annoyance.
"Dad?" It was his daughter.
"Oh hi, honey," he said, calming down. "Happy birthday, Miss 21-and-legal-now."
"Thanks, Dad. Why are you working so late?"
"The computer is acting up again and I couldn't get to it during the day."
"You sound aggravated."
"I am," he said, cursing the computer under his breath as it continued to give him error messages.
"Is Mom there?"
"No ... Look honey, I have to get into this. Can we talk later when you come over?"
"Okay ... sure ... nevermind. We'll talk later," she said, and hung up.
He stared at the phone and replayed the way she sounded. He dialed her number, and she picked up on the first ring.
"Aren't you supposed to be eating a fancy dinner right now?" he asked.
"Yes."
"What's wrong?"
"Don't ask."
"I'm asking anyway."
"He left, Dad," she said, starting to cry.
"What do you mean he left?"
"Last night we had a fight ..." she was crying harder now, " ... he said we were through .... I told him to go to hell ... he didn't call me at work today ... I called his apartment when I got home ... his roommate said ... he ... was ... gone!" She was now hysterical.
"Gone where?" he asked, when she appeared to calm down.
"Back ... home ... " she said, growing hysterical again.
"To Tampa?"
"Yes ..." she answered between sobs.
"Honey, are you sure he's not just ...?" he asked.
"I drove over to see for myself, Dad ... his car wasn't there ... his roommate let me in ... his bed wasn't slept in ...his closet was empty ... he took his stereo."
If he took his stereo, it was serious. He waited again for her get control.
"What did you fight about?" he asked.
"Nothing ... everything ...."
"Oh?"
"But it wasn't a bad fight. Just the usual."
"Define usual. Normal screaming and shouting, or everything short of gunshot wounds?"
"Don't try to make me laugh," she said, sniffling.
He waited while she blew her nose loudly next to the phone.
"Did a tractor trailer go by?" he asked,
"Dad!"
He racked his brain for something wise, or funny, to say, and came up empty.
"I know what you're thinking. Go ahead and say it," she continued.
"Say what?" he asked.
"You told me so."
"Actually, I was thinking how hungry I was. Did you eat yet?"
"No."
"Where were you supposed to go tonight?" he asked.
"Yokohama's. I'm been dying for sushi all day."
"Want to meet me there?"
"No, you're busy."
"See you in 15 minutes," he said, hanging up over her objections.
He turned off the computer, and straightened out his desk. He picked up the phone, automatically, to call his wife, and then stopped before he dialed the last number. He put the phone back down and locked up the office. As he drove to the Japanese restaurant, he thought about her fiance, or ex-fiance. In spite of the fact he now wanted to punch his lights out, he was a likeable young man. He meant well, but he was his own worst enemy.
He arrived first at the restaurant. Because of the hour, it was empty, except for a few couples at the Sushi bar. His conversation with his daughter was clearly not going to be the out-in-the-open-sushi-bar-kind-of-conversation, so he asked Carol, the owner, for a private table. He whispered some special instructions to Carol and she smiled back.
When his daughter came in, he waved to her, and she walked over. He thought to himself, "She's a woman, now. Look at her." He rose from his chair, smiled, and said, "Happy birthday, honey."
He kissed her, hugged her, and she hugged him back tighter than usual.
"Where's Mom?" she asked, looking around. "In the bathroom, right?"
"No, I didn't ask her to join us," he answered.
"Why not?"
"Do you want the truth, or a white lie?" he asked.
She looked stunned. "You're not getting divorced, are you? Don't tell me that. If you're getting divorced, then lie to me. I'll have a heart attack and die if you and Mom are finished, too!"
"No, silly. You're not contagious."
"Then why?"
"Can we sit down first?" he asked.
They sat down, and he nodded to their waitress, who went into the kitchen to get the soup and salad.
"Okay?" she asked, staring at him.
"I didn't ask your mother because I didn't want to share this moment with her," he answered simply. "You called me, and I wanted to leave it that way."
"I called work, because Mom wasn't at home, and I thought she'd be there."
"Thanks."
"You never want to talk about these things."
"Well, maybe now I do," he said.
"Dad, I need a woman's soft shoulder to cry on."
"You'll have to suffer with me."
They were both uneasy, so he said, "You know, you look pretty, even when your nose is red."
"Oh, be quiet," she answered, taking out her compact and dabbing her face with makeup.
The soup and salad were served. She was hungry, but he found he didn't have much of an appetite.
"In case you haven't figured it out yet, Dad, this is not working," she said between spoonfuls of soup.
"We have time," he said, playing with his salad.
"Are you going to have your soup?" she asked.
"No."
She reached over and took his soup, replacing his bowl with her empty one. When she finished the soup, the waitress took away the bowls and then brought the main course.
"How did you know I wanted a Miami roll and a Sam's Special?" she asked, seeing the artfully prepared sushi.
"They're your favorites, aren't they?" he said, reaching for a piece.
She started crying again.
"What did I say wrong now?" he asked.
"Why can't I find a man like you?" she said, wiping her eyes.
He waited for her to calm down, and then said, "In many ways, you did."
"No way, Dad. He was a selfish, immature, bastard. He was nothing like you."
"Not now. ... but before ..."
"No way. You would never break an engagement on a woman's 21st birthday. Never."
"I've done worse."
"Like how worse?" she asked, suddenly interested.
"You want details?"
"If you were a woman, I wouldn't have to ask. Of course I want details!"
"Well, you're not going to get them."
"Tell me about one time."
"No."
"Dad!"
He was about to say something, and then stopped. He looked away and she was surprised to see tears brimming in his eyes.
"What?" she asked.
"I got paid back," he said, "and I learned from it. That's what is important."
"Paid back? Who paid you back?"
"You don't want to know," he answered, wiping his eyes.
"Mom?"
"No, meeting your mother was the best thing that ever happened to me."
"Then who?"
"Do you want the truth, or a white lie?" he asked.
"Uh oh. You have me worried now." She lowered her voice to a whisper."Was there another woman?"
"No hints. The truth or a white lie?" he asked again.
"The truth," she said, girding herself for a shock.
Again, he struggled for the words. Again he found his thoughts lacking. He shrugged.
"What?" she asked.
"You're right. I should have invited your mother. I'm not good at these things."
"No, you're not getting out of this. You started it, now finish it."
"I'm going to mess it up."
"You already messed it up, Dad. All you can do now is fix it."
"Or make it worse."
"Dad!"
"Shush!" he said, looking around.
"If you don't start talking I going to scream Dad! even louder."
"Okay ... I'm just going to say it outright ..."
"Hopefully some time tonight," she added.
"Okay, it's you. I got my payback from you."
"Me? That's not fair!" She slammed down her fork, angry. "I haven't been a bad daughter. I try so hard to make you proud of me. How can you say that!?"
"Calm down," he whispered, touching her hand. She recoiled from his touch and started crying again. He handed her his unused napkin, but she refused to take it..
"If you would let me finish, you would find out I think you've been a wonderful daughter."
"You do?" she asked, stopping short between sobs.
"Of course I do."
"You're losing me here, Dad," she said, drying her eyes.
"How many boyfriends have you had that have hurt you?" he asked.
"Too many."
"And every time you got hurt, I got paid back."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean the worst kind of payback. Where you have to watch your daughter get treated the same lousy way you treated women, and nothing you say or do makes any difference."
The waitress came by and took their plates, interrupting the conversation. When she left for the kitchen, there was another uneasy silence.
"Do you want dessert?" he asked, finally.
"Do you want the truth, or a white lie?" she answered.
"The truth."
"I think it doesn't matter what I order, because they're going to bring out a cake and sing Happy Birthday anyway, aren't they?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Do you want me to act major surprised, or just a little?" she asked.
"Actually, a simple smile will do."
"Dad, I love you," she said. She reached across the table, placed her hand on top of his, and smiled.
The cook, the sushi chef, Carol, and their waitress came out of the kitchen holding a cupcake with a lit candle stuck into it. They sang Happy Birthday with a Oriental accent. It was touching, and funny, to hear it sung that way.
Father and daughter shared the cupcake, and then they went home and had the real birthday cake with the rest of the family.
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