The Tenth Night
Greg Nottels
As he was about to leave the house, his daughter appeared in the doorway. "Where you going?" she asked.
"I just need to pop out, sweetheart. I thought you were still in bed," Greg said, putting his bag back on the sofa.
Samantha played with her hair. "I wanted to ask you something."
He sighed. "The answer is still no to the concert."
"I wasn't going to ask that!" He raised an eyebrow at that and she huffed. "Fine, I was going to ask that. But not about the same concert."
Did he actually speak English when he told her that she would not be going to the concert? He had meant that she wasn't going to a concert at her age, and any other time she knew when his words had a double meaning. Why must she be like this now? It wasn't even seven in the morning and he had somewhere important to be. "We are not having this conversation," he said curtly.
That made her stomp her foot. "You're being so unfair!" she cried.
"Well, I'm your father, I'm supposed to be unfair."
"I bet Mom wouldn't be this unfair!"
Greg took a sharp breath. Her mother would have be much better at handling her than she was, but that had never been a choice. "You're right. Your mother would have been worse," he replied. "Now, I have to go. I won't be long."
"Why is it when you don't want to finish a conversation with me you make excuses?" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "I know where you're going, and choosing that over your own daughter is shitty."
"Language," Greg reprimanded, confused over what she was on about. How on earth could she know where he's going? She's always been at home whenever he's gone for one of the meetings, and there was no way she would be able to follow him undetected. "And if you're so sure, where am I going?"
"You're going to see that whore!" Samantha shouted, surprising him. "All these meetings you're going to and things you have to do, you're just lying so that you can go cheat on Mom!"
He watched with wide eyes as his daughter then stormed out of the room, leaving him trying to grasp at her words. She thought he was seeing someone? Her mother might have been dead for a long time, but there was no way he would ever find someone else. He might be able to move on from her for Samantha's sake, but he would never get over her, and would never tarnish his love for her by getting with another woman. So he was honestly baffled by the accusation.
Just as he was about to follow his daughter to talk to her, he remember the message last night and checked his watch. There was still half an hour until the meeting was supposed to begin, and although it was undoubtable important, should he really blow off his own daughter for it? Only he and Veronica were parents among the group, and he highly doubted that she would put her children before the meeting, but he wasn't like that.
Or was he? He glanced at the bag on the sofa and then in the direction his daughter had stormed off. Did she need time to cool off or did she need him there? He wasn't sure and it was time like that when he wished he wasn't doing this alone.
With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and sent a text back to the number that'd messaged him last night before he stuffed the phone in the bag and went down the hallway to find his daughter. Not even revenge was more important than Samantha.
"I just need to pop out, sweetheart. I thought you were still in bed," Greg said, putting his bag back on the sofa.
Samantha played with her hair. "I wanted to ask you something."
He sighed. "The answer is still no to the concert."
"I wasn't going to ask that!" He raised an eyebrow at that and she huffed. "Fine, I was going to ask that. But not about the same concert."
Did he actually speak English when he told her that she would not be going to the concert? He had meant that she wasn't going to a concert at her age, and any other time she knew when his words had a double meaning. Why must she be like this now? It wasn't even seven in the morning and he had somewhere important to be. "We are not having this conversation," he said curtly.
That made her stomp her foot. "You're being so unfair!" she cried.
"Well, I'm your father, I'm supposed to be unfair."
"I bet Mom wouldn't be this unfair!"
Greg took a sharp breath. Her mother would have be much better at handling her than she was, but that had never been a choice. "You're right. Your mother would have been worse," he replied. "Now, I have to go. I won't be long."
"Why is it when you don't want to finish a conversation with me you make excuses?" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "I know where you're going, and choosing that over your own daughter is shitty."
"Language," Greg reprimanded, confused over what she was on about. How on earth could she know where he's going? She's always been at home whenever he's gone for one of the meetings, and there was no way she would be able to follow him undetected. "And if you're so sure, where am I going?"
"You're going to see that whore!" Samantha shouted, surprising him. "All these meetings you're going to and things you have to do, you're just lying so that you can go cheat on Mom!"
He watched with wide eyes as his daughter then stormed out of the room, leaving him trying to grasp at her words. She thought he was seeing someone? Her mother might have been dead for a long time, but there was no way he would ever find someone else. He might be able to move on from her for Samantha's sake, but he would never get over her, and would never tarnish his love for her by getting with another woman. So he was honestly baffled by the accusation.
Just as he was about to follow his daughter to talk to her, he remember the message last night and checked his watch. There was still half an hour until the meeting was supposed to begin, and although it was undoubtable important, should he really blow off his own daughter for it? Only he and Veronica were parents among the group, and he highly doubted that she would put her children before the meeting, but he wasn't like that.
Or was he? He glanced at the bag on the sofa and then in the direction his daughter had stormed off. Did she need time to cool off or did she need him there? He wasn't sure and it was time like that when he wished he wasn't doing this alone.
With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and sent a text back to the number that'd messaged him last night before he stuffed the phone in the bag and went down the hallway to find his daughter. Not even revenge was more important than Samantha.