I valet park my car and head to the hotel lobby, clutching my bag and the new laptop that was delivered to my desk a week ago. The scene is far more chaotic than I anticipated: there are news crews and police, conference attendees and people who don’t appear to be here for the conference at all but who are murmuring, their phones poised.
Caleb is standing with Mark, his gaze already on me, his brow furrowed. He sends Mark off and walks toward me, that worry never leaving his face. I expected him to finesse this, to act as if nothing’s wrong. Instead, he’s looking at me like I’m someone Mark was supposed to fire but did not.
God, is he going to fire me here?
He reaches me and places a hand on my elbow, moving me off to the side and out of earshot of people walking by.
He pinches the bridge of his nose before he speaks. “Your father is on his way,” he says, his hand tightening around my arm as if I might need support. “He didn’t announce it until this morning. He’s going to be on my panel.”
My brow furrows. It’s so different from what I expected him to say that I can’t quite make sense of the words. “Who?”
He moves to my side to shield me from the mob. “Your father. I have no idea what’s going on…someone like your dad usually books these kinds of appearances months in advance. I just found out myself or I’d have warned you. You don’t need to be here if you don’t want to be.”
My shoulders sag in relief. “Jesus, Caleb, you looked so worried. I thought you were going to fire me. I couldn’t care less where heis.”
“Fire you?” he repeats, jaw open. “Why the hell would I fire you?”
I shrug, ignoring the heat rushing to my cheeks. “You know.”
He sighs. “Lucie, God. Of course I’m not firing you.” He runs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. This is so fucked up. I would never…I can move your supervision to Mark if that would make you more—”
I shake my head. “No. It’s fine.”
“We clearly need to talk, but…you’re sure you’re going to be okay?”
“As long as he doesn’t come to my presentation, I don’t care what he does.”
He frowns. “I was wondering if maybe that’s the reason he’s here. Your presentation. Maybe he wants to see how you do.”
A noise comes out of my throat, some combination of a laugh and a gasp. “He’s had his entire life to see me. And as disastrous as my presentation is already going to be, I think I’d implode under the pressure if he came to this one.”
“I don’t think you need to worry,” he says softly. “Just watching you attempt to set up a smart board is enough to make someone fall hard and fast.”
I stare at him. Mark’s walking toward us and I’m probably reading too much into it, again, but I’d really like him to elaborate.
“Caleb, you’ve got to go,” Mark says, walking up beside me. “Lucie, we’ve got seats saved, but we’d better get in there. It’s going to be standing room only.”
Caleb hesitates, glancing at me once more before he leaves, and Mark leads me in the other direction, through a throng of people fighting to get into the auditorium.
“This is insane,” he mutters, as people push past. “All because of Robert Underwood.”
Inside, they’re already lining the walls, sitting cross-legged in aisles, quietly gossiping about my half-siblings and their mother. And here I am, about to see my father in person for the first time in my life, and all I can think about is Caleb, the boy I might have grown up beside if I’d been allowed to leave the house.
Just watching you attempt to set up a smart board is enough to make someone fall hard and fast.
If my father hadn’t denied my existence, maybe Caleb and I would have known each other well enough for him to say some version of that as a teenager or in college. In a world before there was a Kate, a Jeremy, he might have told me he was falling hard and fast, and I’d have said, ‘I’ve loved you since I was six, so it’s about time.’
Most people go through their entire lives wondering where their other half is. I’ll go through the rest of mine knowing I found him but could never claim him as my own.
Caleb and my father enter the room along with the other panelists and the room quiets. My father gives Caleb a polite tip of the head. Caleb’s eyes narrow in response and then he turns away, seeking me out in the crowd, making sure I’m okay.
The moderator leans toward his mic and poses a question about work-from-home, a concept Caleb loathes. I already know he’ll be the only one up there who says, ‘I’m not paying someone a full-time salary to play Call of Duty for six hours and answer a few calls”， just like I know my father will try to please both sides and wind up saying nothing worthwhile.