Page 126 of Last Letters to Ara
Theo rarely asks me for anything. “Oh?”
“There is a yearly charity fundraiser held in Tampa, designed to help struggling artists. A while ago, I asked my father to attend and donate. He agreed, shocking me at the time, because he rarely does anything for charity.” He sighs. “Except he refuses to donate unless I attend with him every year. I’ve come to realize it’s less for the charity for him, and more about having a guaranteed evening to torture me. Anyway, I was wondering if you would come with me?”
His father is such a dick.
“Your father is such a dick.” Connor takes the words right out of my brain.
“Of course, I’ll go with you. When is it?
He hesitates. “The first weekend in September”
“That’s around the corner!!” I shout.
Theo grins. “You’re the only person I know who has a ballgown fit for a charity event sitting in a little room just waiting to be let out.”
I blanch.No.He couldn’t possibly be referring to–
“Ara, it’s time to break out the silver starlight dress.”
I wait for the anxiety to crowd in. I wait for the moment where I lose myself, over the fear of my favorite design out for the world’s eyes to judge and pick apart.
But the anxiety never comes.
Instead, I grin so hard that my cheeks ache.
Last Year - Theo
WILLIAM DECIDED ITwas a good idea to start getting rid of things. He wants to leave the valuables and sentimentals for his daughter to decide what to do with, but he didn’t want to leave her with the junk. His words, not mine.
I wouldn’t say any of this even qualifies as junk. William’s house is simple, homey, and doesn’t have an ounce of clutter. Even his garage is neat, tidy, and organized. I mean, how many Americans can say that?
Regardless, we started the dekluge today, beginning in the living room. He sits in his chair as I go, directing me as I open drawers and sort through things. Everything he doesn’t want is going in boxes, which I will drop off to a charity for military veterans.
William comes in from the kitchen and hands me a glass of water. I’ve only taken a few sips when he swears.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, instantly worried, looking him over for any signs of discomfort.
“My daughter just pulled into the driveway.” William looks at me pointedly. “She can’t meet you.”
A car door opens, and I don’t even glance at the figure stepping out before I dash to the closet closest to me. It’s tucked right between the living room and kitchen. I take a deep breath, clutching my glass, secretly enjoying every moment of this.
Who hasn’t dreamed about being forced to hide in a broom closet? I certainly never imagined it would be by a man twice my age, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to broom closets. The front door opens a moment later, and I hold my breath.
“Whoaaaa.” She drags the word out as she takes in the state of the living room. “Whatthehellis going on?”
William clears his throat. “I’m just doing some spring cleaning.”
“It’s fall.” Her dry, sarcastic tone brings a half smile to my face.
“So?”
“So, it’s weird. You’re being weird.” William no doubt is about to land a retort, when a cough steals away his voice. I wince, noticing it sounds wetter than it did even days ago. “What’s wrong with you?”
The dry humor in her voice is quickly replaced by alarm. She asks the question like it’s an accusation, daring him to break the news that he is not invincible.
“They found mold in my office. I’ll be getting some check-ups while I’m in New York for that conference, just to make sure I don’t develop anything.” I can tell William is searching for more words, needing to put her at ease, but he comes up empty.
Pause. “But you’re okay?”
