Eternal Longing ✓

50. Parental Guidance

JAYA

Perhaps I should be feeling something right now.

Anger, fear, sadness. Hell, maybe even a bit of curiosity. The desire to know what he wants from this. To know what he's been up to all these years and why he's now sitting in front of me and watching me with what looks like awe.

I shift in my chair, slightly uncomfortable with this whole ordeal but more so uncomfortable with the fact that I should definitely be feeling more than a mild irritation at the moment.

"You've . . . grown so much."

My biological father, the man who's partly responsible for my existence, seems to be a man that is not opposed to pointing out the obvious to make conversation.

I have the slight urge to retort with something smart like, yeah, that's what happened in the decade you were not there or you wouldn't be so shocked if you'd been in my life, but the apathy I feel is stronger than the irritation, so I hold back the snark.

"You're different from what I remember, too." I tilt my head and focus my eyes on his salt-and-pepper beard. "Older."

A grin breaks out on his face, his eyes sparkling and his dark skin that is so like mine glowing. I don't say a word, but internally I'm practically screaming because I look like him. It's not evident at first glance, I certainly didn't notice when I caught sight of him sitting inside the cafe, but our resemblance hits you slowly. Bit by bit.

He passes a hand through his beard, then his low-cut hair, bringing attention to its expertly faded crispiness. The man is in his early fifties, but like my mother, he still looks in his prime. He's one of those men who are slow to age, too busy with life to even bother to acquire a few wrinkles.

"I saw your work. You're talented. Very, very talented." He nods and picks up his coffee, blows gently on it, but then puts it back down without taking a sip.

Instead of thanking him for the compliment, I pick up my coffee and take a sip. "You saw my work?"

"Yes. On your Instagram page."

Oh.

Sometimes I forget I'm not private. I forget that my IG is not only my personal online platform but also doubles as publicity for my work and that some people follow me on there because they want to see where my muse will take me next.

"I was surprised when I saw the number of followers you have. But then I saw the art and I understood." He chuckles goodheartedly and fiddles with his cup. "It's amazing to know that I have a famous daughter. I'm proud."

The word daughter hits something in my chest, hard and pointy, and I almost spill my scalding hot drink on myself as I bring the cup to my mouth once more. I ignore the burn of the liquid on my tongue and simply let it slide down my throat, hoping to gain some semblance of calm.

"Forty thousand IG followers is hardly famous. Also, they barely know or care for who I am. They just like the paintings." I shrug in dismissal, knowing that it is the truth.

He chuckles again, but I look away this time because his left front tooth is just slightly crooked like mine, and damn it, since when is the crookedness of teeth hereditary?!

"You certainly didn't take your humility from me." Once again, he laughs heartily, still only playing with his coffee cup instead of putting the damn thing to his mouth and drinking. "Your mother must have taught you-"

"Actually, my dad is quite humble. Bragging is one of his biggest pet peeves, so I probably took it from him. Though, I can't say I'm as humble as my old man."