Worth the Effort: Ella's Story

Chapter 5

Sitting across the table from my dad, in the dimly lit restaurant, I wonder if he remembers who he has taken to dinner. As I approach a legal age, he treats me less like a daughter and more like someone to flirt with, though he's never made any inappropriate advances toward me. Perhaps he's always acted smarmy, and I'm only now aware of what his playboy attitude means. It makes me mad that he treats women like objects. It shocks me that my ball buster of a mom ever put up with it. Mostly, it creeps me out.

"Are you still seeing that boy?" Dad glances at his phone. "Brandon?"

"Did you just check your notes?" I ask. "Does your assistant compile a list of talking topics with little bullet points before you visit me?"

"I'm a busy man."

I push the linguine around on my plate thinking I should let him off the hook. Tell him as long as he keeps giving me an allowance, he doesn't have to waste time seeing me anymore.

"No, I'm not seeing Brandon anymore. He was a dick."

"Ella!"

The waitress bats her eyes at my dad as she stops to top off his Cabernet. Dad doesn't even look at her. He must be flying out right after dinner.

"Too bad. Brandon is from a good family," Dad says.

"Yes, and that is so important. Strong teeth, large bank account, good hairline."

Dad taps on his phone, probably making note of my dating status for his assistant. He sets it down again, picks up his glass of Cab and locks his attention on me.

"He must have really hurt you. I've never heard this kind of sarcasm from you before."

See, the thing about my dad is, he's successful for a reason. He's a great actor. It seems like he cares when he says that. I almost open up to him about how Brandon wore me down until I finally gave in to him and how he lost interest immediately after, but I kept clinging to the relationship as if it could be saved. How I told myself it was Brandon's way of dealing with commitment, to date several other girls before he admitted I was the only one for him.

Instead I look at my food as I shift it around on the plate some more. "Yep. He did."

"That's good."

"What?" I glare. Dad's expression is serious. "It's good that he hurt me?"

He leans back in his seat, looking like he's going to cross his legs and puff on a cigar. "It is. The pain of heartbreak is one of the most important growth experiences we have as young adults. It teaches us caution and to guard our hearts."

I scoff and think, you already taught me that, but I don't say it because—you guessed it—I'm a coward.