Free So Much It Hurts by Monique Polak Page A

menu. “I’m dying for pancakes. What about you two?”
    I can’t help laughing. Mick laughs too. It’s getting harder to resist my father’s smile.
    We all order pancakes. “Pancakes were one of the first things you ever ate,” my father tells me. “Only I think you liked the maple syrup more than the pancakes. You got your sweet tooth from me.” He taps his chest, then looks at me. “This feels pretty weird, doesn’t it?”
    â€œThat’s for sure,” I tell him.
    â€œWell, we’ve got to start somewhere,” he says. “Today’s our start.”
    I nearly tell him our start was seventeen years ago.
    â€œI still can’t get over what a beauty you are. Not that you weren’t a beauty when you were little. I’m the one who picked your name. Did you know that?”
    â€œNo.”
    My father closes his eyes. It gives me a chance to study his face. There are bags under his eyes and the skin on his cheeks is slack, but he is still a handsome man. He would have been even handsomer when Mom fell in love with him. He opens his eyes. “Your mom and I had a patch of purple irises in the backyard. And a little yellow birdhouse on our elm tree. You used to love to sit by the window in your high chair and watch the birds fly in and out.”
    â€œI did?”
    â€œI remember it like it was yesterday.”
    I don’t have the heart to tell him I don’t remember any of it. That I hardly remember him.
    I know it’s silly, but I’m bothered when my father turns to Mick. Katie might be right: maybe I do have abandonment issues. “So how do you know Iris exactly?”
    â€œWe’ve been working together on a theater production. Iris is very talented.”
    â€œOf course she is,” my father says.
    He turns back to me. “You said you’re playing Ophelia. How’s that going for you? You getting into character? Making the transition from obedient daughter to desperate lovelorn girlfriend?”
    I didn’t expect him to use an acting expression like getting into character or for him to know so much about Ophelia. “It’s going pretty well. I really like being her. I like how she feels things so deeply. I can relate to that.”
    My father nods. His eyes sparkle in a way that makes him look even more handsome. “I know exactly what you mean about relating. I guess you know I did a little acting at university…before…”
    For a moment, I wonder if I’ve heard right. “You were an actor?”
    My father laughs. The laugh, low at first but building almost to a cackle, startles me. It sounds so much like mine. “I wouldn’t call myself an actor. But I was in a couple of shows when your mom and I were at McGill. I figured she’d have mentioned—”
    â€œShe doesn’t like to talk about you. It upsets her.”
    My father runs one of his fingers over his lips, then crosses his hands on the table. “I can’t say I blame her. I put her through the ringer…” He sighs, as if he regrets all the trouble he caused. “After everything happened”—he doesn’t say what everything is—“and I had to leave the country, I tried to talk her into coming with me. So the three of us could be together.” It’s not hard to tell he still feels sorry for himself. As if he thinks he’s the one who suffered most.
    â€œYou abandoned me,” I tell him. “You abandoned us.”
    He winces. “I guess it looks that way, doesn’t it? But Iris, I need you to know I wish things could’ve been different.” He looks down at his plate and then back up at me. “A girl needs a father,” he says softly.
    â€œI’ve done okay without you.”
    â€œI can see that. I’m proud of you, Iris. Really, I am.” His eyes are getting misty. I can tell he’s trying to swallow back his tears—the