Mads and Regina left each other early the next morning, kissing at the door before getting in their respective vehicles and driving to their destinations. Mads lived relatively close, roughly five hours from her dad's which she pulled into at roughly ten in the morning.
Her house was filled with more family friends than family. No one from her mother's side was there, including her mother. She liked it that way. She didn't talk about her mother. Her dad's two brothers and sister was there, as well as two of her cousins who were both her age. The rest of the many people present were family friends, mostly people who worked with her father at the rail yard.
Maxwell Somerton wrapped his daughter in a warm hug when she arrived. He had the stereotypical look of working class man down to a tee. His idea of dressing up for church and Thanksgiving was a polo and khakis. Otherwise we wore jeans and flannel when he went to work as a train mechanic at the rail yard. A thick mustache and short hair, glasses from age, a portly pot belly, and working boots.
Mads didn't know her father until she was fourteen. Her mother sent her to live with him at very short notice and they had a lot of growing pains. Her mother generally spoiled her, so when she went to live with him, she was in conflict with his earn your place mentality immediately. Both of their tempers flared in her teen years, the only years he had with her before college.
"Want a car? Pay for half and learn to fix it before you get it. Insurance is on you too."
"Want a cellphone. Pay for the phone and I'll pay for the family plan, any excess of texts or calls is on you."
This was a huge shock for a girl so far raised under 'Mommy I want' actually getting things. 'Daddy I want' not so much.
Like a stern sitcom dad, he even had a catch phrase. 'So what?'
Whether or not it was always his saying or one he developed when he was her sole parent she didn't know, but she knew it drove her crazy growing up. Most of her trivial wants her mother would permit, were instead met with 'So what?'
"Madison doesn't want to do the dishes. So what?"
"Madison doesn't want to do her homework before television. So what?"
It wasn't until Mads was sixteen, having been living with him from two years she realized he was there for the important things unlike her mother. For her softball games she knew he'd be in the stands. He'd call a favor and work a double the next day if needed. He helped with school, and he was much smarter than he looked. His bookshelves were littered with history books, mostly military history, and philosophy. Who says a mechanic can't read Plato, Socrates, Aristotle, Kant, Smith, and Rand?
Mads remembers one day that was a real turning point in their relationship. She got into a fight at school her sophomore year. A boy said something, alluding to her sexuality, and she punched him in the face. It was broken up and she was suspended, Maxwell having to pick her up from the principal's office.
At first he was fuming when he arrived. He had to get off work and lose a few hours, but the moment he saw her through the window of the hallway into the office, he knew anger wasn't a means of speaking with her. She wasn't angry, she was legitimately hurt by what the boy had said.
Maxwell walked into the office and spoke to the principal and was updated on what the boy said. The physical assault led to a suspension that was the compromise for the boy's parents not pressing charges, which Maxwell thought was preposterous for kids getting into a fight.
"Madison," Maxwell said, Mads not looking up. She knew she was about to get yelled at for not responding to him, but still didn't. Instead he crouched to her face, making her look up and into his eyes. "Let's get some food."
Maxwell took them to the local diner where they ordered breakfast for lunch, Mads mostly silent the entire time. Her responses were single words or small phrases.
"What did he say to you?" Maxwell said, Mads shrugging.
"Nothing," Mads said.
"Nothing. You punched someone in the face for nothing? That's not you. You're not above punching someone, but you typically need a reason," He said, Mads looking at her orange juice that she took a gulp from a second ago.
"He asked me out," Mads said, and Maxwell laughed a little.
"I love the idea of you punching boys who are too forward, but why do I feel you are telling me half of the story?" Maxwell asked.
"I said no, and he called me a dyke," Mads said.
"That's very rude, but why does make you so mad?"
"I don't want to talk about this," Mads said, looking away.
Maxwell reached his hand across the table and placed it on hers. She looked up at him and saw his smile.
"When you do. I'm right here."
A few months later Mads came into the living room from her bedroom upstairs, the last stair creaking like it always did. She hated that stair. Two years of sneak out attempts ruined by a faulty piece of lumber she was almost certain he never fixed on purpose. Maxwell lowered the book from his face, and turned to her, her arms in front of her, her left hand holding her right forearm.
"Dad," Mads started, getting his attention immediately. Very rarely had she called him dad instead of Maxwell. To her he was her dad by default.
"Yes?" Maxwell asked.
"I want to talk about it," Mads said, Maxwell placing the book on the coffee table in front of him and standing up from his chair.
"I'm listening," Maxwell said, standing across the living room from her.
"I punched the boy in the face, because I was worried people would realize he's right," Mads said, her eyes already getting watery. "When I told mom, she hit me, and she threw me out. Dropped me off on your doorstep."
"For better or worse, I'm not your mom kiddo," Maxwell said, Mads nodding in agreement. "I know we were basically strangers when you got here. I wanted to be a bigger part of your life, but your mother never let me. I wasn't ready for you, but I try my best, and I know I come up short often."
"You do better than you think," Mads said, willing to admit that. She didn't recall a single time her mother watched her play sports or helped with homework. When she failed to make the softball team her freshman year, her mother certainly wouldn't have helped her train in fielding and batting. Or just wanted to know her at all. Her mother just said yes to everything, so she wouldn't bother her.
"I want to actually say it. Out loud and have someone hear it," Mads said, crying now and looking at her feet. Last time this didn't go well. Maxwell closed the distance between the two of them and hugged her. She let her arms hang to her sides but cried into his shoulder.
"You can say it. You can tell me," Maxwell said. He already knew, but he also knew how therapeutic this would be for her just to say it.
"Dad...I'm a lesbian," Mads said and braced.
Maxwell pulled her back a little to see her face and smiled. The phrase that Mads had so far despised would be the greatest relief she ever heard in her life.
"So what?" Maxwell asked. Mads hugged him back and cried in relief. The most liberating moment of her life.
Mads always called him dad after that moment.
After she came out, it was truly like she became a different person. Her antagonism didn't immediately cease, but it certainly declined. She was willing to learn car maintenance, and even got a part time job at the local grocery store to start paying for it. He surprised her by paying for more than half of it. A year of helping train her in fielding and batting, even when they were angry at each other, come spring she made varsity as a sophomore, just when she was so certain she was going to quit.
For her junior and senior years, Mads would say her best friend was her dad. It took three years for them to get there. In retrospect Mads was ashamed of herself for how poorly she treated him. He just shrugged it off, said if she had kids she'd understand.
After dinner and dessert, Mads and her dad sat on the swing on the porch, her father's second favorite place to read. Both had a bottle of beer in their hands, they sat together with a small breeze swaying them back and forth.
"You mentioned you've been very unlike yourself," Maxwell said, Mads smiling with small laugh.
