Part Eighteen
Sydney's father stares at her. "You're not a disappointment, Sydney."
"Really?" she says, rising from the couch. "Then I'd hate to see how you'd treat me if I was."
"Sydney--"
"Where did you put my purse and Grace's diaper bag?" Sydney interrupts.
Her father looks baffled. "Why?"
"Because I suddenly remembered that there are a few people I'd like to say hello to over at Michael's firm," she says, proud of the coolness in her voice. She's done caring what her father thinks, done trying. This little visit has proved to her that doing so causes nothing but heartache and hurt feelings, and she's finished. "Some of them haven't seen Gracie yet, I want to show her off."
"You're leaving?"
"As soon as you direct me to my purse and the diaper bag and I say goodbye to Jack and Emily," Sydney responds. "They've been looking forward to seeing you, so I'll let them stay for a few hours. Michael and I will be back for them later."
"Sydney--"
"And I'd like to freshen up before I go," Sydney continues as if he hadn't spoken. "I'm sure you don't mind if I use your bathroom."
"Of course not," her father says, bitterness creeping into his voice. "Though freshening up isn't really necessary. You look flawless."
"Good," Sydney says crisply. "Since I've devoted my life to being Michael's perfect little trophy, I might as well look the part, don't you think?"
"You're behaving like a spoiled child."
"I'm sorry you think so, though I can't say that your opinion matters much to me at the moment." With that, Sydney spins on her heel and heads for the kitchen, where Jack and Emily sit at the table finishing up their Popsicles. Emily, of course, has managed to get the majority of hers all over her face and hands, though she has miraculously avoided dirtying her shirt. "Emily, darling, you're a mess."
"I'm sorry, Mommy."
Sydney strides to the kitchen sink and wets a rag, then moves to the table and goes to work on her sticky daughter. "Jack, Emily, Mommy's going to take Gracie and go visit Daddy. We'll be back to pick you up in a little while, okay?"
"Is everything okay, Mom?" Jack asks with a concerned frown.
"Everything's fine, sweetheart," Sydney says, brushing his hair back fondly.
"I want to go visit Daddy, too," Emily says with a petulant frown.
"Don't you want to stay here with your Grampy?"
"It'll be fun, sweetheart," Sydney turns to see that her father has appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. "We can go to the park."
"You're staying with me, right, Jackie?" Emily asks, turning to her brother.
"Sure," Jack says with a shrug.
"And Sydney, should I still expect you and Michael for dinner?"
It is a dirty trick, asking her in front of the children, but Sydney thinks she does an admirable job keeping herself together. "I don't think so, Dad."
"I would really like it if you and Michael came to dinner," he says firmly.
Sydney ignores him and turns to the children. "Be good for your grandfather, okay, darlings?"
"Okay." They take turns hugging her goodbye before she strides back to the living room to collect Grace.
"Do you make a habit of walking away from people when they're talking to you?" her father demands, following her into the room.
"It was extremely inappropriate for you to ask me to dinner in front of them," she responds, lifting Gracie carefully out of the playpen. She stirs but doesn't make a sound. "Oh, you're such a good little angel," Sydney whispers.
"I didn't realize that a father asking his daughter to dinner was such a heated issue."
"Yeah, well, it shouldn't be, but with us, it kind of is," Sydney tells him, settling Grace into her baby seat.
"Sydney, I tried here today."
"You made a pitcher of iced tea and bought a box of Popsicles," Sydney snaps. "Congratulations, you're not completely inadequate as a host."
"I--" Sydney's father takes a deep breath. "I would really like you and Michael to come to dinner. Please."
"You've made your feelings about Michael abundantly clear, and I don't know if he would feel welcome here," Sydney says. "I know that I don't."
"Sydney--"
"I would like you to get my purse and the diaper bag for me," Sydney says firmly. "Please."
Her father stares at her for a long moment, then leaves the room, returning a moment later with the requested items. "I'll help you to the car."
"That's not necessary." Sydney takes a few moments balancing the purse and diaper bag over one shoulder, taking the baby seat with the other hand.
Her father tries one last time before she walks out the door. "I wish you'd reconsider about dinner," he says. "I don't think I'll get much cooking done with the little ones here, but I could order in Chinese. Do you still like sesame chicken?"
"I stopped eating meat when I was nineteen, and the kids hate Chinese," Sydney replies. "Goodbye, Dad."
She manages to keep the cool facade up as she buckles Gracie into the car, as she tosses the purse and diaper bag into the backseat, as she gets herself settled and drives away.
She waits until she is out of view to pull her car to the side of the road and cry.
