Monsoon Season

Laurie Lonewolf rubs her thumb over a text message she received from a stranger only hours before. It reads, “Hi Laurie. You probably don’t remember me, but this is your dad. Can we meet?” 

This is your dad. 

Laurie’s fingers grew numb at the words. What? Dad? Why now? Why not say father? Wouldn’t that be more appropriate considering ‘dads’ stick around? But something in Laurie’s chest broke free, and she couldn’t help but touch a color she hadn’t felt since childhood. It was hope. 

“Don’t expect anything,” Laurie’s best friend Kate Hoffman warned her. Kate was the kind of gal that didn’t trust the surface of people. “Everyone has their own personal ocean. You only see the waves, never the glaciers underneath,” she confided to Laurie. “I learned quick that no one gives a shit about you and they don’t owe you anything. It’s up to you to protect your heart and be weary of their waves.”

“Jesus,” Laurie replied, drawing in a cigarette. “Who broke your heart?”

Kate leaned in close to Laurie and smiled. Soft and crinkly like crow’s feathers, her black eyeliner dramatized her wide green eyes as she stated knowingly, “My father.”

Laurie’s phone buzzes in her hand, knocking her back to reality. “Unknown Caller” lights up her screen. She swipes up the talk button and waits.

“...Laurie?” 

His voice is not as deep as Laurie imagined it would be. It was full yet airy like a red canyon. He spills the L in Laurie out of his mouth like it is unfamiliar liquid. She initially envisioned “dad” to be a Cowboy Sam Elliot, gunslinger of the wild west. He had to up and leave mom and her because he got involved with the law and they were after him. Couldn’t write letters or call. Too risky. A life of crime was no good for Laurie Lonewolf. 

At least that’s what little Laurie made herself believe when she returned from school and found the house quiet. She had never felt an empty house swell so large in silence before. Even her mother, a garden of wildflowers, dried up overnight like the sonoran desert, where only once a year she let herself cry and flood the house with her sorrow. It would rain for days and then suddenly stop. 

Laurie watched her mom pick herself up again and move on, slowly opening herself up again until another season of monsoons washed over her. Her father’s absence was so loud it drove her and her mom far away. They planted roots elsewhere and moved on. That’s how Laurie accepted it to be, until now.  

Dry as dirt, Laurie somehow manages to open her mouth. 

“Hi.” Laurie doesn’t bother to add “dad.” She isn’t sure if he deserves the title just yet.

“Ah, did you get my message?” Laurie hears her estranged father swallow nervously on the other end.

“Yeah…” Laurie hesitates. She isn’t sure what to say. Laurie has half the mind to hang up the phone and never speak to him again. She imagines herself ending the call and going on with her life. No dad, no worries. Wouldn’t ever have to think about him again. 

But then she feels a tugging sensation in the dark pink of her stomach, and a knot begins to form. She messages it nervously. Surprising herself, Laurie blurts out, “Actually, I’m getting off early today and can meet you for lunch. Where do I meet you?” 

Laurie’s father lets out a breath on the other end. “Denny’s next to Peak Inn.” He sounds genuinely relieved.  

“Alright, I’ll be right over.” Laurie ends the call.

Laurie approaches her father. His hair is light, a honeycomb blonde sticking out of a grey and black beanie. He has wild, heavy set brows that hang over brooding eyes. His eyes are a bright blue, nothing like Laurie’s, which are earth brown like her mother’s. 

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.” 

Laurie’s father slides out from the booth and stands up. He’s wearing jeans and an oatmeal sweater. A turquoise and navy color block windbreaker is seated next to him. “Oh, no not at all. I’ve uh, actually been here before I called…” His hands twitch like he wants to give Laurie a hug or handshake but isn’t sure. He smiles nervously instead. 

“You look just like Jessica, your mom.” He peers at Laurie’s face sheepishly and his eyes light up, “Except for the nose. You’ve got the Henderson nose, ha!” Laurie’s dad sits down with his daughter across from him. The wooden chair feels stiff and cold against her butt and back. The muffled voices bounce off the shag carpet in Denny’s and seem a bit too loud. Laurie’s gravity tilts beneath her feet and she wants to throw up.

“Did you have a short day at the office?” Her dad takes a sip of water. 

  “Stomach ache,” Laurie lightly touches her abdomen. “But it’s really nothing. I’ll have some coffee,” she tells the waitress and twists a tissue in her fingers nervously. Her hands feel clammy. There is no use in small talk.

“Why now?” Laurie watches her dad closely. He lowers his eyes. The bright blue hue quickly greys into what Laurie interprets as shame. He swallows hard and thinks for a moment before answering. 

“I….I had a lot of mental issues I had to deal with. I couldn’t be there for you and your mom. I’m so sorry.”

Blood boils and pounds in Laurie’s ears. The tissue in her hands has transformed into a pile of ripped paper. She can’t take it anymore. Before she can stop herself, a flood pours out of her. Spit spews out of her mouth as she yells, “Oh, so now you can? You just show up out of the blue after years of being gone and text me you’re my dad and you want to talk? What’d you expect, some sort of family reunion? You don’t know how badly you hurt mom. She was devastated you left without an explanation. And now you have one? After all these years? My mom’s tough as stallions, but she was soft for you. I’ve never seen someone so badly bruised. I watched her grow thin and eclipse, saw her tongue betray her food and voice because of the sorrow you left us with. It took me years to not let the anger inside me grow large and belittle me for being fatherless. Answer me, goddamnit, what right do you have to ask of me now? Why now?!”

Laurie feels all eyes on her. An austere silence implodes in the diner, and Laurie wants to scream. Her father’s eyes are misted over. Does he feel sorry? Laurie wonders and bites back the shame she feels for yelling. Does he feel regret? Laurie swallows hard. Her throat feels dry.  She sniffs back the heat building behind her eyes and blurts, “Goddamnit, I need some water!”

Without hesitation, Laurie’s father slides his glass of water to his daughter, its condensation connecting a trail between him and Laurie. His gesture touches Laurie. All at once, a wave washes over her. She cannot help but cry. She covers her eyes with her hands, trying to push back the tears spilling from her eyelids. Laurie’s dad reaches out to his daughter and lightly squeezes her hand. It is warm.

Laurie squeezes back.