The End Of The Game Pt 02

Well, it's a great thing to say, isn't it? "I was going to start living again"?? Sounds so fucking pompous. Way easier to say than do. I mean I got back and immediately I was back in the fray, back in the fire. Lots of things to deal with. Kids to sort out. Friends who needed this or that. Have to pay the house insurance. Have to get new tires on the car. Need to make sure Saffron has her new gymnastics kit.

That's what living in the twenty first century is, I decided. A million small frictions that sap your will to live or do anything beyond all the small time-consuming minutia that is required for life to move forward. It's easy to say "I'm going to start LIVING instead of existing!!" but you then have to fit that in between the car run for dropping the kids at whatever they are doing after school, taking your dry cleaning in - and then remembering to pick it up -, making sure you get the oil changed in your car, trying to arrange a time for the pest control guy to arrive, making an appointment to get your air conditioner serviced, taking the kids to see the latest Marvel movie, trying to organize a time you can see friends when they are available and endlessly trying to decide what to have for dinner. And that's without putting out fires at work and trying to guide a project.

Life just... is complicated and full of small tasks and it's very easy to just get overwhelmed with them all.

But, best foot forward and other such really dumb phrases.

One evening I had a conversation with Paula about it. I'd been home about two weeks and I could see she was dying to know every detail about the trip, to report back to Woman Spy HQ no doubt, her handler, - Deanna, - would debrief her in every detail, I was sure.

We were sitting post dinner. I was having a beer and Paula had made a joke about having one also - that was not happening quite yet, I'm afraid. Saffie was doing homework and Jamie was killing aliens or people or aliens as people or whatever the fiction around Overwatch was: I hadn't bothered to check. Not the sort of game we make so I don't spend that much time wondering. I have staff for that. To be honest, I was starting to wonder about Jamie. He was at puberty age and I'd seen no signs whatsoever of masturbation or sexual events. No crinkly tissues or socks, no hurried shutting down of the PC when I entered the room. No hidden porn. Either he was hiding it extremely well or he just wasn't that far along. Could video games really take over self-abuse as a preferred time sink? At his age? Maybe I needed to talk to someone about that. And it wouldn't be with Deanna, that was for sure. Or Paula.

Anyway, I was sitting at the island, two of the kids off upstairs doing whatever they do up there and Paula was finishing up a last slice of pizza, when, after finishing her mouthful (she is a cultured girl when she needs to be), she suddenly asked, "So Dad. No shipboard romances while on the cruise then? No mystery lady waiting to be revealed?"

I just looked at her, beer bottle on its way to my mouth, frozen for a second, wondering how to answer that. She was genuinely interested and also smirking like a member of Trump's family at the same time.

I considered what to answer her. Truth or None Of Your Business? The thing is, she was older, and more aware. Plus, maybe she'd share with me if I shared with her? Worth thinking about...

"This is your father you are asking, Paula," I intoned, lowering the bottle. "You honestly think I am capable of charming some woman on a cruise ship?"

She laughed for a second, then looked serious. "Well... don't run yourself down too much, Dad. I mean, yeah, you may not be Ryan Reynolds, or even Timothee Chalamet," - Who?? - "but you did manage to snag Mom, and also Olivia." She frowned after saying that, realizing that probably wasn't a smart thing to say.

"But... you aren't chopped liver either. So give. Any action? Do the double humped dance at all?"

I was actually taking a chug when she asked that, and I'm fairly sure it was deliberate. I did manage to at least not spray the mouthful all over the kitchen.

I swallowed and answered, smirking at her, "What if I did?"

Her eyes opened wide.

"You did! Oh My God, you got some! My dad is a stud!!" She hopped off her stool and started dancing around, repeating "Such a stud! Such a stud!", punching her arms into the air every time she said the word "stud."

It was utterly embarrassing. I glanced around, wondering if anyone was watching, which was stupid because of course there wasn't. Still couldn't help myself though, it was

that

embarrassing, for all concerned.

She stopped in the end, smirking the smirk to end all smirks at me.

"Was it gooOOOooood, dad?" she asked, tilting her head around as she elongated the words. "Did she swooooOOOoooon?"

I looked at her, wondering if she was too old to be taken over my knee and given the spanking she so richly deserved. Not a fun spanking, either - this was my eighteen-year-old daughter we are talking about here. It would be 'your butt is gonna be so sore you won't sit down for a week' kind of spanking.

"It was fine. Shipboard romance. All in a bubble. She was nice," I grunted, very quickly.

Paula stopped and tilted her head looking at me. "That's it? No post cruise communication? I mean, if she was

that

nice Dad, why not look her up now? It's not like you are eighteen and just leaving for college?"

"She's from Greece, Paula. There is zero chance of you running into her at the mall, and she's not relocating her life just to hang out with me," I said, squelching those thoughts immediately. Paula, for all her virtues, could also be a bit of a dreamer and wisher. She bought into Romance, with a capital R, and hadn't the experience of life to have all that reduced to pragmatic reality yet. Oh it was coming, no question about that. But right now? Love conquered all, and if it didn't, it wasn't really love, was it?

"Oh," she said, disappointment visible in her face. "Shame, Dad. Really. I was rooting for you."

I shrugged. Life is like that. Well, mine certainly was. Still, while we were on that subject.

"So, Paula, how about a little reciprocation?" I asked, pursing my lips at her.

"What?" she asked, uncertainly.

"Were you ever going to tell me about this boy you are dating?" I enquired, directly, arms folded.

"Ah," she replied, eyes suddenly downcast. "Big mouth mom" I heard muttered very quietly.

"Don't bring your mother into this," I challenged. "So... what about it, Paula? Who is he? Can I at least know his name?"

She pulled her mouth to the side, lips pursed, as she looked at me and thought about it.

"Garcia," she said, eventually. "Garcia Martinez."

"Where did you meet him?" I enquired, getting up and going to the counter to start making a coffee. It seemed a natural thing to do, to keep her talking. I was also curious. Deanna had mentioned someone named Dan?

She shrugged. "He's a friend of Wendy."

"Wendy being...?" I queried, as I took the Keurig water container to the counter to fill it.

She bit her lip. "A friend."

"Ah, this would be the last person you were dating, then?" I asked, a shot in the dark.

She looked defiantly at me. "Mom has a really big mouth!" she declared, folding her own eyes and frowning at me, menacingly.

I stopped walking to the counter, water container in hand and just looked at her.

"Don't blame your mother, Paula. Why couldn't YOU have told me? I'm your father, after all. I mean, I get that this kind of news is potentially... worrisome. But I'm your Dad. And I had thought you'd know me. You'd know that this kind of thing wouldn't phase me. I'm your number one supporter, Paula, I would have thought you'd know that? Have I failed you in some way that you don't think that anymore? That you could talk to mom, and not me?"

I was genuinely interested in her answer, but I had to play it carefully. I couldn't make this a Mom vs Me thing, because that would divide her loyalties, even more than they already were. And I wasn't sure I'd win.

Plus, I was also genuinely hurt.

She chewed her cheek, her features softening as she looked at me.

"No, Dad, it's nothing like that. I just... didn't want to be a distraction."

"A what?" I exclaimed. "How on earth would this be a distraction?? I'm your Dad. This is what parents are for!"

She sighed. "No, you aren't getting it, Dad. I'm just... concerned. That's all."

"Concerned about what? That I won't understand?" I carried on making the coffee, since standing there staring at her wasn't getting me anywhere.

"No!" she was stung by that. "No, just... you've been alone so long. After what Olivia did... Just as you were coming out of your shell, she puts you right back in it again."

She saw my stepping back, a raised eyebrow.

"Sorry Dad, but it has to be said. She did. I'm nineteen in a couple of weeks you know, not eight. I know what a broken heart looks like. And I've seen it twice with you. Neither time was it your fault."

Shit. She was way more perceptive than I had given her credit for. That's the trouble with being a parent, particularly to girls. They are always twelve in your eyes, never the age they really are.

"And you just... went back to being..." she searched for the words, trying her best not to hurt me, I guess. "Alone. With no one to talk to. To confide in. To bring you out into the light." She bit her lip again, worried about what her words would do to me.

I smiled. Needed to let her know that no harm was done.

"I'm fine, honey. I'm just fine. You don't need to worry..." And she butted in.

"No, Dad, you're not. I'm sorry, but you aren't. You haven't been in a long time. You were starting to get there when you were dating Olivia, but that bitch put you right back where you started from. I'm sorry I was ripping into you a while ago, but... you had a smile again. For the first time in a long time. That's why I didn't say anything to you. I just didn't want to burden you with my..." she groped again for the right words, "...issues. I'm still figuring out who I am. What I want. And I'm having a really fun time working it out. Honestly."

She smiled, hopefully at me, her arms twisted around themselves in front of her body, twisting slightly, like she used to do when she was so young, asking for something she knew we wouldn't be likely to say yes to.

"I just felt like... I was having such a fun time, and you... well, you weren't. And I didn't want to flaunt it in front of you."

Jesus. H. Christ. My own daughter didn't want to parade her happiness in front of me because she thinks I am miserable all the time. Am I miserable? Is that who I am now? Do I have to have someone else in my life to be happy?

Fuck me. Who the hell am I? And why did it take a nineteen-year-old to tell me? Wait, is this what Deanna meant? Is this why she packed me off on a cruise? FUCK!

What do you say to that? How do you respond to that. I did what any parent would do, I think.

I put down the cup I had in my hand, ready to make coffee and headed straight for her, and hugged the living shit out of my eldest kid. I don't know if she needed it more than I did or vice versa, but clearly we both did.

"It's ok, Darlin'. It really is," I murmured to her, crushing her body to me.

There was a muffled sob and suddenly she was convulsing. And I will admit, there were a few tears in my eyes too.

"It's all ok, babe," I repeated, desperately hoping and wishing it was.

She pulled away and looked up at me and said, voice trembling, "But, Dad. You've been so unhappy. You can't even see it, but I can, and so can the others. You've been kicked around and used and... it's just not fair. And then Olivia dumped on you from a great height, and we could all see what that took out of you. What she did to you. Dad, I'm just... we are all just worried about you. I need to know you are gonna be okay?"

I sighed, yet again, my heart breaking for my children. Only this time, it was my fault. Deanna may have made the hole in the dyke, but my fingers were cramping. Or something. I don't know. It was an emotional moment. I make bad similes when I'm emotional.

I ruffled her hair with one hand, the other still around her, and gave her my best dazzling smile.

"Like I said, it's all good, baby girl. I met someone, she did a lot for my ego, and I'm okay. I won't deny that life has been a bit hard emotionally, but you know me, Paula. I'm the one everyone else comes to. It's my place to be the rock everyone else needs. I came to terms with that years ago."

Paula looked at me, still a little wobbly, searching my face and eyes.

She pushed back and then said, tentatively, "So... Dad...?"

I could tell she wanted to broach some subject and it would be something I wouldn't want to do, but I nodded anyway.

"Yes, sweepea. What?"

"So... I think you need new experiences. I think you need to broaden your horizons. I think you need to go outside your comfort zone. You need to be more than you are," she said... slowly speeding up as she got more confidence.

Now, my first inclination was to ask, "And what exactly am I right now?" but brutal experience has told me I don't really want to hear the answer to that question. I'm fairly sure the word 'rumpled' would be in the response somewhere. So I avoided that, and instead asked, "What did you have in mind?" thinking that she'd suggest some father/daughter activity we could do together. Flower arranging or pottery painting, or some such. Fat chance.

No, what I got, I was not expecting.

"Okay," she said, emboldened. "Here's what I want us to do. Once every two weeks, I get to have one request of you that you can't say no to. No... it won't be 'can I borrow your car' Dad. This would be for you."

This was trotted out because I had just purchased a new Electric Vehicle, a Ford Mustang Mach-e GT. It was fast, very smooth and Paula had driven it once and taken quite a liking to it, as well she might, given it was seventy-two thousand bucks worth of vehicle. And I didn't want it out of my sight. While I loved and trusted Paula, you also don't give a teenager a car with four hundred and eighty horsepower equivalent, because even if she didn't do something stupid with it, I had no idea who of her friends might.

It was a friendly tussle back and forth, her asking in more and more outlandish ways, generating ridiculous reasons why she should use it, and me saying no, in more and more exasperated ways.

"To make it fairer, so I can't just control you, it has to be something you will do, and I'll give you options, so you can choose from those options. So not just me ordering you around." She folded her arms, looking at me expectantly.

Surprising myself, and not instantly dismissing it out of hand, I said cautiously, "Give me some examples. I want to know if what you are thinking is appropriate."

She smiled at me, knowing she'd won, and answered, "Oh, let me see. Okay, well... The first thing, Dad..." She paused, looking for the right words so I wouldn't be upset. "... well, it's... you need to go see someone, Dad. You need to talk someone. You never have, through all of this. I know you talked to Mom's therapist, when...it... all happened, but you didn't go there for you. You went for her. You need to talk to someone, Dad."

I smiled gently at her. "Am I that messed up?"

She was taken aback. "Oh, no, Dad. You've been great with us. It's you I am worried about. You can't go through something like that, almost twice, with Olivia, and not be impacted by it. No one can. You need to talk to someone, Dad. Talk it through. Get an unbiased and professional opinion. Get some tools to help your..." she trailed off.

"My what?" I demanded, suddenly a bit pissed off. I'd done a fairly decent job of raising the kids on my own I thought, what was it now?

Paula flinched, but was resolute. "You have issues, Dad. It's clear to anyone who knows you. You don't trust anymore, you check up on everything, you always go straight to the worst possible result of any given situation. You don't do anything for yourself unless you are forced in to it. Who do you think gave Mom the idea for that cruise? Hint, she's old enough for you to buy her her own car now."

I literally stepped back. And she wasn't done. "And God forbid you look for another female companion. I mean, you found someone on that cruise, but wasn't the only reason you actually went for it because she wasn't from here and was never going to bother you again, eh Dad? Be honest."

I'd never really looked at it like that. I had considered us just ships passing the night. And the day. And the night again. But that was all.

A nasty thought grabbed me. Was she right? I mean, she couldn't be, could she? She was barely nineteen. Like she knew what adult relationships were about. But still... what if she was? Would I even know if she was? Fuck fuck fuck.

I held up my hands in supplication. "Okay, okay. Let me... I don't know, Paula. Let me think about this, okay? You've kinda sprung this on me..."

"I know, Dad, but this has been a long time coming. The fact is, I'm the only one who could say this to you, you know? That's another thing, really. You don't have anyone who you really trust to tell you stuff you don't want to hear. Certainly not Mom anymore, and you are the boss at work so no one there... It kinda had to wait till I was old enough to tell you so you'd listen."

I could see her point about that. Not one I had ever considered. Life was just Like That and you got on with it. And I didn't take stuff from anyone. I made my own way in life. Made my own decisions. Kept my own council. No matter what... the... provocation. Oh crap.

"Let me think about it," I said again, weakly, thinking I needed some time to consider this. How to respond appropriately.

"Um... well no. That's the point of this exercise, Dad. You don't get to say no or 'consider it'," she said, making air quotes. She knows I hate those. "You need to go, we both know it, all you want is time to come up with some 'reasonable' excuse," there they were again, "or just push it off into the distance so no one remembers six months from now. No, you just need to do it. I am putting my foot down." And she did, emphatically, arms folded and her heel clacking on the kitchen floor.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is how I came to be seated in the plush and comfortable offices of Marcus Strickland. Psychologist to the... well, not stars exactly. More like sad old male single divorcee's, whose eldest children boss them around. Which fit me to a T.

I'd deliberately gone looking for a psychologist, rather than a psychiatrist, because whatever problems I may or may have, I wanted no chance of being prescribed happy pills. I had enough going on without trying to get a pill balance right. I'd also done my research, looked into things, balanced this vs that, really done my... oh who am I kidding? I looked at Yelp reviews. Like everyone else does in this day and age.

This guy had seemed pretty well-reviewed, he was local, he was a dude and he wasn't that expensive. More than I wanted to pay, but since I wanted to pay zero, then

everyone

was more expensive than I wanted to pay. Plus, he took my medical insurance, so that was a plus.

This was actually my fourth visit. I'd made the appointment two days after the conversation with Paula, when I'd (wisely) backed away, hands raised, saying "Okay, okay, I'll get on it. Anything for a quiet life..."

The first appointment had been a 'getting to know you' meeting, where he'd gone over what I wanted to get out of these sessions, which was pretty wishy washy, let me tell you. Apparently "So my eldest daughter will get off my case" is not a respectable answer to that question. Particularly not at almost two hundred bucks an hour.