The Growing Season

The young woman sipped her merlot. Slowly. As if she expected it to be poisoned.

And she wished to God it had been.

Fifteen minutes into her first date in ten years and Kayla already found herself making a mental note of which exits in the swanky restaurant appeared not to be alarmed. Christ! He didn’t even have the decency to take me to a dark little dive bar or something less conspicuous... she complained inwardly. She could feel her heart racing, the blood was rushing to her face and she was sure that the artful mood lighting showed the crimson blotches on her cheeks perfectly. Dammit.

It wasn’t that she felt underdressed, or even intimidated by the smartly suit-and-tied gentleman who rose from the table to greet her when she arrived. It wasn’t the fact that she had starved herself all day to ensure that she could still fit into the dress she had bought for the occasion. She wasn’t even frazzled by the way her date was now staring intently into her eyes waiting for her to speak. The detail that threw Kayla’s mind into a catatonic deadlock, was the fact that her first date in ten years...

Had turned out to be her father.

“You...you...” She stammered trying to force words to click into place like a slipped bike chain.

“I might have left out a few details on my profile...” The man took a sheepish sip of his riesling.

“You tricked me!” She hissed, attempting to scream without disrupting the polite murmur of the dining room. “I can’t believe you let me chat with you for two weeks only to- Oh God!” A new realization hit her.

“Oh God, what?”

“I’ve been catfished by my own father!” She squeaked in horror.

Kayla cupped her hands around the sides of her face and pressed her fingers to her temples. She stared blankly at a space a few inches past her bread plate, coming to terms with this new level of humiliation.

“I apologize, Honey, really. But admit it, would you have agreed to meet me otherwise?”

“Maybe if you hadn’t pulled this sleazy move first, Max Jenson.”

The gentleman chuckled softly.

“I always wanted to be named ‘Max’...” He reflected; “Martin always sounded a little too...uppity.”

“I guess you always wanted a lot of things to be different, didn’t you?” Kayla sipped without breaking eye contact.

The words hit their mark. Martin winced, then took a sip of his chosen libation to strengthen himself. He now realized that this was not the "strengthening" grape variety. The riesling in his glass was bright, sunny and optimistic. It’ll all work out Sweetie! The wine tried to assure him with a girlfriend-y leg touch, just smile and tell her how much you love her! You’ve got this!

He did not have it. He thought he had prepared for tonight. He had gone over the conversation in his mind contemplating every possible scenario. It had done him no good. Nothing had prepared him to look into those familiar eyes of his little girl and see only reproach.

He knew he should have gone with something more serious, like Kayla’s Merlot. Merlot was grounded. Even the fruity-ness of it somehow managed to convey sensibility. Merlot was the kind of wine that could organize a closet...and enjoy it.

Merlot was also, in no way, Martin.

“Believe me, Honey, I-”

“You what? Didn’t know when you and Mom got married? Didn’t want it to end the way it did? Didn’t want to leave your wife and thirteen-year-old daughter for a man you had been going on ‘fishing’ trips with every Summer?”

“Kayla, Richard and I...” Martin tried to begin-

“Jesus Dad! You had to leave Mom for a man named Dick! Could you at least have made our lives a little less of a bad punchline!? I was a teenager! Guess what every boy in my class had to remind me of until I graduated high school?” She deepened her voice in mock masculinity. “Hey Gayla, is it true your dad loves Dick?”

She could feel her throat tightening at the memory. Tears threatened to ruin her mascara. She looked up, took several intentionally deep breaths and pulled at her lower eyelids trying to coax the moisture back behind her eyes. Only after doing so, did she look directly at her father and really see him. The rage and hurt that she had tried so desperately to rise above had burst out of her before she could contain it. Now that she saw the man across from her, she bitterly regretted it. He had shrunk dejectedly into himself like a kicked puppy. Guilt, sadness, and shame radiated off Martin and turned the warm atmosphere of the restaurant cold and sour.

“Shit...” Kayla muttered to herself “Dad, I...”

“No...” Martin sipped his wine again in his own effort to hold back tears. “I think that was warranted... I just...I just didn’t know it would affect your school. I thought times were different... God, Honey, I’m so sorry.”

He looked into her eyes. She looked into his. They were red, sorrowful, and running tears which he didn’t bother to wipe away, but instead held her gaze. It unnerved Kayla. For years she had wanted an apology for what he had put her through, for exposing her to the cruelty of pubescent kids with nothing better to do than exploit what made her life different from theirs. Now that she seemed to be getting her apology, a really good one in fact, why was it only making her feel worse?

“I’m sorry I’m gay, Kayla. I am. I really tried to make it work with your mother, I tried for you. I tried for her. I know you don’t believe me, but you were the only reason we lasted as long as we did. When I held you in the hospital... when I looked into your little eyes, I knew I wanted nothing more than to be the perfect father for you. I tried everything I could to love your mother the way she deserves. I tried to be the man who could give you the world. I’m so sorry I failed. That was part of the reason I hoped you would meet me tonight. I know I’ve been distant. I just... Every time I looked at you...it just reminded me of what I couldn’t be...and the perfect family I couldn’t give you.”

Martin sank into silence and twirled his nearly empty glass between his fingers. He stared thoughtfully at the wine as it swirled up, around and down in a V-shaped pattern.

That was it.

That was why Kayla’s vindication failed to show up when she received her long-awaited apology. All these years, both she, and (apparently) Martin, had assumed that her pain stemmed from him being homosexual, and the anguish of being a stereotypically broken family with an additional wrench thrown in the mix.

But it didn't.

“Dad...” She began, then fumbled. There were too many thoughts all straining at her vocal cords trying to get said first. They clustered and crowded into a jumbled, immobile pile. All she could come up with was,

“...Is that why you drank scotch neat when I was a kid?”

Martin looked up shocked. Her question was so frank it could almost be mistaken for levity compared to the mood moments ago. His laugh came out as a bark, breaking through the tension in his chest.

“Oh God, Honey, that stuff is so awful!” He glanced upward with the relief of being found out. “I really was trying everything I could to be straight!”

“I got news for ya, not even straight guys enjoy it. They all do the same face that you used to make after every sip.”

“Good to know.” He chuckled in acknowledgement.

“So, is that why you catfished me? So you could blatantly drink wine in front of your daughter?”

Martin drained his glass determinedly.

“I’m getting married...I...I’d like you to be there. Beside me.”

Kayla choked. She hadn’t seen her father in years, and now he wanted her to be his...best man? Maid of honor? Either way, it was a shock. She had come to terms with the fact that her parents would never get back together. She had even accepted that Martin would, going forward, only be introducing boyfriends to the family. But the idea of him getting married again...It just made everything too...final. It was like being invited to a stranger’s wedding, on the same day as her father’s funeral. The little girl inside her grabbed desperately for a life that she knew didn’t exist.

“To Richard? You sure about this? I mean, marriage didn’t work out so hot for you last time.”

“Kayla, it’s different. I didn’t leave Gina because things got rough, I left because Richard made my life bright again. As bright as the day you were born. I wouldn’t have left unless it was for...well... he allows me to live in full color, and encourages the fullest version of me. I thought I had to drink scotch for the rest of my life to be happy. Richard is my wine, I choose him because I genuinely love everything about him, as he is. He is the best thing to happen to me since you, and I’d like you to be there.”

Martin scanned Kayla’s expression. It was unreadable. He tried to soften his request.

“If you don’t want to be in the party, I understand. But I’d still love for you to come...or if not,” He inhaled, “May I at least have your blessing?”

There was a pause.

“No.” Kayla said quietly.

Martin looked crestfallen.

“Dad,” She continued, “I don’t care that you’re gay. I’m happy for you and Richard, I really am. I thought all the pain would go away after yelling at you, but it didn’t. The fact is... all I ever wanted from you was...you.” Her eyes shifted to her merlot. “You want me to be beside you. You hardly even know me. I don’t even know if I know you...” Her voice trailed off as she looked up blinking back tears.

Martin gazed at Kayla. For an instant, she was six-years-old again, his Little Blackbird, asking her daddy for one more goodnight kiss. His heart wrenched.

“How can I make it up to you Sweetheart? I know I can’t give you back the past, but I’ll do anything to repair things going forward.”

“I don’t know...”

The server came by. Oblivious to the depths of emotional turmoil at the table, he asked with innocent charm,

“Will you be ordering entrees? Or is it a drinks date tonight?”

A thought struck Martin.

“Um...yes! Could you give us one more moment?”

“Can we just call it a night?” Kayla pleaded.

“I’m not going to marry Richard.” Martin’s eyes were wild with inspiration.

“Dad, stop- That’s not what I- please don’t get like this-”

“Not until...” He grinned, “I’ve dated my daughter first.”

Kayla gaped at Martin. What fresh lunacy was this?

“Honey," He continued more soberly, "You shouldn’t get married until you really know someone. In this case, the someone I need to know better is you. Whaddaya say? One night a week? You and me? ...Please?”

Kayla drained her glass. Perhaps it was the merlot talking, softly asking her Well? What else do you have to lose? The server returned to take their order.

“Another glass each please,” Kayla requested, then grinned wickedly, “...And your most expensive steak, medium rare. He’ll take the check.”

Martin couldn’t help a relieved laugh. He held up his empty glass for a toast.

“To you, My Dear.”

Kayla clinked it with hers theatrically.

“To our first date.”

Martin saw his daughter as if for the first time. Kayla, he concluded, was a glass of merlot. He was a riesling. Maybe it was a longshot, but at least they were finally sharing a table.