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It was half past seven when Andrés sent you out of his office with a quick kiss and a simple request. He asks that you run an errand while he speaks with his daughter, something about her future in music and attending a nice school. He always makes sure to send you out a bit in advance and give you something to keep you properly busy when he has to meet with her, as he hasn't introduced the two of you yet, and the last thing he wants is Senna walking in on the two of you before he can talk to her first. He’s had a few quiet flings since Senna’s mother was removed from the picture, but nothing serious. Certainly nothing like you.
You show back up a few minutes past eight, spotting the empty table outside of Andrés’s office where Samuel usually sits. He’s missing, as he often is after six or so. You head straight for the door, intending to stop and listen in before entering to make sure Senna has gone, but you overhear the arguing before you even make it there. You know you should turn around, step into an office down the hall or perhaps take a walk around the building until Andrés calls after you, but you can’t help what you’ve already heard, and you can’t help the curiosity when you hear Andrés raise his voice again.
“I’m just trying to do right by my only daughter!” he says.
A sympathetic look crosses your face as you gaze at the door handle. You know Andrés tries hard to keep Senna safe, to keep her happy, but you also know that they both have very strong personalities. You knew they clashed, but you’d never witnessed it. In a way, it takes you back to your own childhood, to the times where you clashed with your own father. You bat those thoughts away and lean against the door, pressing your ear to the cool surface and straining to hear as Senna’s voice dropped, clearly still laced with anger as she accused Andrés of being embarrassed of her.
You sigh. You know Andrés loves Senna, that he would do anything for her— this is just another clash, another misunderstanding between a parent trying to help and a child trying to break free, and you’re sure Andrés will put Senna’s worries at ease. You know he’s not embarrassed of her, only worried. Sometimes he tells you about her, the details that aren’t passed around in the latest gossip magazine, and you worry, too. But that isn’t your place, you’re not her mother, so you keep it to yourself.
You wait for those words, for the soft, “I’m not embarrassed of you,” but instead you hear something that makes your heart drop.
“You don’t make it easy to be proud.”
You don’t even hear the rest of the argument. Your ears start ringing the moment Andrés’s words register in your mind, swirling around and repeating until they’re drowned out by someone else’s words. You can feel your heart pounding and your throat closing up as memories come flooding back, your vision blurring as you’re confronted with a dozen different situations where you bit your tongue and held in your tears as you were scolded and insulted by your father, a man who insisted that even as a young child, everything was always somehow your fault. If you couldn’t do what he said or live your life as he dictated, you were useless— nothing but a disappointment. Nothing to be proud of.
You’re shaken out of your spiral by the sound of footsteps as Senna approaches the door. You rush to hide, resolving to crouch behind one of the chairs just in time. You watch Senna disappear around the corner, but you don’t get up until you hear the elevator doors start sliding shut. As the elevator descends, you approach Andrés’s office, carrying the nice bottle of wine he sent you after. It was meant to be for a special dinner the two of you were having in a couple days, but you had a feeling that you wouldn’t be attending after tonight’s events. Especially if the way you unconsciously slammed the bottle onto Andrés’s desk was anything to go by.
He looks at you with shock, and a slight bit of annoyance. “ Mi vida , you could have broken that. It’s very expen—”
“How could you say that?” Your voice is so quiet when you speak that you wonder for a moment if he even heard you. It feels like the words only half left your mouth.
His brow furrows in confusion. “…Because you slammed it onto my desk so hard?”
“No,” you say. “How could you say that to her?”
You can see the moment it clicks in Andrés’s mind what you’re referring to and he sighs deeply. “How much did you hear?” he asks, running a hand through his hair before using that same hand to prop his head up, elbow resting just on the edge of the armrest. There’s a tiredness in his eyes that you’ve rarely ever seen, but it shines through so blatantly tonight.
“You don’t make it easy to be proud,” you echo. “Andrés, she’s your daughter. ”
“Yes, she is,” he replies. “You shouldn’t have eavesdropped. That was incredibly rude of you.”
You scoff. “Don’t you dare turn this back on me! Do you have any idea what you just did? Do you have any fucking clue how that’s going to affect her?”
Andrés stands and starts to step around the desk. “Senna is my daughter. Our disagreements are none of your concern, and I would appreciate it if you dropped the subject and your tone, cariño .” He sighs again as he comes to stand in front of you. “Senna is a headstrong young woman, we butt heads sometimes. She will forget about it before the week is over.” He gives you a small smile and reaches out for you. “Come, let us—”
“Don’t,” you say, jerking away from him before his fingers can even brush against your arm. “Don’t touch me.”
“ Mi vida , I—”
“Please,” you whisper, your gaze locked on the floor. “I can’t…” Your hands bury themselves in your hair and you chew the inside of your cheek anxiously as you try to clear your mind of the memories that come rushing back again.
Andrés’s smile drops as he watches you. Although he still doesn’t fully understand, the true weight of his mistake is beginning to set in, resting heavily on his chest. He feels like he can’t breathe as he watches you turn away from him, but he still calls out your name.
“Where are you going?” he asks, but what he means is don’t leave .
You pause, your hand firmly wrapped around the handle of the door, and swallow the lump in your throat.
“You’re going to forget about this,” you tell him. “One day, probably soon, it will just be another argument. Just another exchange with Senna, nothing out of the ordinary— you might not even remember exactly what you said, or what caused you two to fight in the first place, but she will. She’s going to remember everything. What you said to her is going to be burned into her brain, and she’s never going to forget how it made her feel. She may get over it one day, and maybe you’ll never fight again and you’ll have the perfect father-daughter relationship from this point on, but she won’t forget .” Tears have been welling in your eyes this entire time, threatening to blind you, to choke you, and they finally fall. Your shoulders shake, but you force yourself to hold as still as you can. “You can’t just act like because she’s young, and because you’re trying to do your best, and because there are things she doesn’t understand yet, that she will ever forget that her own father told her she makes it hard for him to be proud of her.”
You slip through the door before Andrés can respond, leaving him alone in his office. You half expected him to pursue you, but make it to your car without incident. When you finally arrive home, you collapse in bed, almost wishing you’d taken the bottle of wine with you. You drift off quickly, missing the feeling of Andrés’s arms as you fall asleep.