June 21st was hot and hazy in The Big Apple. At 8:41 the clouds in the sky were just turning pink from the setting summer sun as high-rises and skyscrapers pushed up and shadowed streets and people below. The car horns still blared and people still briskly walked up and down the countless blocks as the evening rolled in. Everything was calming down from an uneventful Sunday.
In the penthouse apartment of the Dakota building, Special Agent A. X. L Pendergast was entertaining a guest; quite the rare occurrence. Pendergast and guest sat across each other in a particular room, a small tea table between them. The room itself was a full Zen garden with a single hardwood path leading to the table and neat sand artfully raked on all sides. Rocks places throughout and in the sand stood as symbols of land in the white, grainy sea. There was little plant life, but in a few place moss could be seen peeking out from behind a rock. Illumination was provided by wooden lanterns placed just apart enough that they lit the room without missing any spots or being overly bright in others. It was a meticulously maintained room. A deep green Japanese teapot and two matching cups of green tea on the table provided a gentle aroma for the guests to enjoy.
"I'm very happy you accepted my invitation tonight, Miss Swanson," said Pendergast as he brought his cup to his lips.
Across from him, Corrie sat somewhat uncomfortably on a mat. They left their shoes outside on a rack in the hallway, and Corrie tried to think of a time where Pendergast didn't have shoes on. She couldn't think of one.
"Thanks," she reached for her cup, "It's been a while since we got together and it wasn't when someone was dead."
Pendergast smiled ever so slightly. "Yes, it has been a while, and at last the circumstances are completely pleasant."
Corrie nodded and sipped her tea. It was very earthy.
"Not to your liking?" he asked, as if he already knew.
"I'm not much of a tea person."
"Green tea is very good for you, especially this kind. It's a very special form of the Camellia sinensis and is unique to a little known province in China."
The young woman looked in her cup and gently swirled the green liquid around. "I guess you're too good for Lipton."
There was a comfortable silence as Pendergast quietly finished his cup and poured himself another. Corrie declined to be topped off.
"You know I'm always happy to see you, Pendergast, but any real reason you called me over?" Corrie asked.
"Do I need a reason?"
"Of course not. You're Pendergast. But being Pendergast, you usually have a reason for everything."
"A very good deduction."
"I don't think at this point it's a deduction."
Silence once more.
The two sat in stillness and Pendergast slowly finished his second cup. Rather than pour himself another cup, he places his cup down so gently it barely made a sound. Corrie continued to sit quietly and sip at what she thought just tasted very faintly of dirt in water form. She thought about her sitting there with Pendergast in his New York digs, sitting in a Zen garden she didn't know existed until then but was completely unsurprised by, drinking this crappy hot water and that on Monday she'd have to do laundry. The bright purple hair coloring had been washed away since Pendergast sent her to that prep school so when Corrie lowered her head a bit to sip more, it was blonde hair that slipped slightly forward. The blond man sat with perfect posture and for a moment closed his eyes and seemed to relax just a bit more in the silence. Corrie allowed the hot liquid to touch her lips once more and then it hit her. She had no idea what made her realize but at that moment she did. She swallowed hard and loudly dropped the teacup back on the table.
"It's Father's Day."
Without opening his eyes, Pendergast nodded slowly, as if she just correctly answered a question.
Corrie turned her head away slightly and said, "So that's why you invited me over."
"It was also a very convenient time."
Corrie didn't know how to feel. She wanted to feel angry, but for some reason there was no anger. Her brain tried to rationalize getting angry by telling her Pendergast was just pitying her. Poor little girl with a drunk for a mother and no father on Father's Day. It surely wasn't anger she was feeling, but instead what filled her heart was sadness and embarrassment.
She looked back and saw Pendergast looking at her, completely blank. His pale grey eyes betrayed nothing. Corrie looked up at him and dead in his eyes. She couldn't read him, but he could read her.
Pendergast spoke softly, "I thought you'd appreciate company today."
"Why?" The words slipped out of Corrie's throat and came out a lot weaker than she had hoped, "Just a shitty Hallmark holiday."
At that moment she didn't want to be there anymore. She didn't want to be there in that garden or with Pendergast. At that moment she wanted to be anywhere that meant being alone. Mother's Day, Father's Day- all worthless to her. Abruptly, Corrie got up and began to walk down the path to the door to leave.
She didn't get far; Pendergast sprung up as nimbly as a cat and reached over and took her arm with as much care as he could while still holding her limb.
"Let go!"
Tears could be felt welling up in Corrie's eyes and she tried to wipe anything that came out away with her free arm. She tried to yank her other arm away and keep walking but Pendergast kept a firm hand.
"Let go! Let! Go!"
She continued to try and go forward but Pendergast was surprisingly solid for a man so lean. As the tears continued to swell and all the sadness and loneliness flooded her mind Corrie eventually just gave up and stopped pulling. She just stood there fighting back tears and made sure to keep her face away so Pendergast couldn't see. For the first time in her life she was successful. She had just graduated from a prestigious prep school and was about to enter John Jay in September. She wasn't goofing off or mindless driving around waiting for nothing. She was finally moving in the right direction and starting to be in charge of her true chance. And there was no one there to watch her or cheer her on. Other Father's Days came and went, but back then she had nothing to be proud of and nothing to share any love with.
Her sniffling had turned into crying and she gave up on trying to hide it. Corrie just stood there and no longer noticed the pressure of fingertips on her forearm.
"Miss Swanson," said Pendergast in a voice so low it was almost a whisper.
Corrie shook her head.
"Miss Swanson, look at me."
Pendergast could see she wasn't about to do so on her own, so easily he turned her towards him and lightly lifted her chin so her eyes met his.
He didn't speak immediately, but his eyes never left hers. Corrie was a bit surprised that he seemed to not know what to say. But eventually he did say something: "Miss Swanson- Corrie- I know that I am not your father and I could never hope to be your father. I cannot replace your blood, the memories you have missed, and I won't even start with my uncanny ability to get into extremely dangerous situations. But I can say that I am exceptionally proud of what you've accomplished and surely will accomplish in the future. Everything that will make it all work for you, you have."
As Corrie processed each word, as if in slow motion, she began to cry harder. She cried harder and allowed herself to collapse in his arms and hold him tight in a hug. Taken by some surprise, Pendergast steadied himself and wrapped one arm around the girl's waist and rested another on her head, stroking it gently. Corrie continued to cry on his shoulder and press into him tightly, and all the man holding her could do was allow her to continue. Afterwards he'd have a guest room made up. He'd escort her to bed and make sure that she had a plentiful breakfast in the morning and that he was awake and there for her. He could feel his shoulder become moist and the sounds of crying seemed to echo and bounce in the calm room. Eventually Corrie would stop and the sun would rise on Monday morning.