July, 2012

It had taken some persuading, but Jack had eventually agreed to let Ingrid learn how to drive. He'd hired a private – female – instructor to teach her and Ingrid didn't mind the obvious jealousy. In fact, it flattered her and made her happy that he was taking care of her like he'd promised. He'd even bought her a car, in her own name, as an early birthday present.

When she finally obtained her licence, however, and on her actual birthday, he wasn't there to share in her excitement. Her abuelita was.

Sofia brought Ingrid a regal breakfast in bed and sang to her in Spanish. Then they spent all morning baking a cake together, making a festive lunch and dancing in the kitchen. In the afternoon, Ingrid decreed that they'd drive into the city for a movie and fancy dinner.

Sundown caught them on a bench in Central Park, sipping milkshakes and watching children play.

"Thanks for today, abuelita," Ingrid said into her cup.

"Qué estas diciendo? De nada, mi nieta."

Ingrid grinned. When Jack wasn't around, Sofia often called her 'granddaughter.'

"What do you want to do on your day off? Dia libre – qué, uh... hacer? We can go wherever you want, I'm driving!"

The woman mustered a tired smile in response to Ingrid's megawatt grin.

"Es imposible para mi," Sofia shook her head.

Ingrid frowned. "Impossible? What is?"

"Lo que quiero. Mi hijo, quiero visitarlo. Pero no se puede."

Ingrid remembered their very first conversation. Sofia had been so gutted that, lacking a valid ID, she'd never be able to see her son in prison for however long he'd spend there. That overwhelming sadness resurfaced in the woman's eyes and Ingrid almost cried for her, her heart hurt that much.

"I'll go," she blurted and Sofia stared up at her, bewildered. Disbelieving. "I'll go," Ingrid said again and looked something up to reinforce her statement. "En tu lugar, abuelita. On your behalf. I'll go and visit your son for you."

Sofia's eyes glossed over and she started on an enthusiastic tirade in Spanish as they headed back for the car. Ingrid could only catch snippets of it. Important thing was, her abuelita was happy. She did not even stop to consider what it'd be like to go into a prison, even as a visitor, or what this lawless son might really be like.

Abuelita was happy for a change. That was all that mattered.

Starting the very next day, Sofia busied herself with relentless preparations and could speak of nothing else besides her poor darling son. Her enthusiasm persisted until, a few days later, she barged into Ingrid's bedroom and went straight for the blackout curtains.

Ingrid groaned when sunlight reached her bed and Sofia's chipper disposition became unbearable.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Ingrid yelled out, irritable.

The housekeeper froze in her tracks, scared in a way Ingrid had witnessed only when Jack was around.

"Shit." Ingrid sat up, rubbing at her eyes. "I'm so sorry, abuelita." Tears seeped into her voice and Ingrid let them spill.

Her adoptive grandmother climbed into bed with her. "Por qué estás llorando, mi hija? Sofia is not upset. Basta, no llores!"

Sniffling, Ingrid cuddled up at Sofia's chest, unable to heed her advice to stop crying. "My grandma... mi abuela, the real one... Twelve years ago, she died. Today. Um... Muerte? Aniversario?"

"Dios mio!" The woman quickly crossed herself. "Pero no llores, hija linda. Abuela es con Dios, con los angeles."

Ingrid gulped and lay back down in bed. "I don't believe in God, abuelita. Or angels. My granny's gone."

"I believe," Sofia retorted. "I believe, I... pray, eh? Para ti, y para la abuela."

Sofia brushed Ingrid's damp hair from her forehead and took her hand.

Ingrid's faith had long died, if she ever had it. Going to church was just something she used to do as a child, with her grandmother. Then there were the religion classes in school, plus the habits and traditions she followed blindly under Granny Lena's guidance.

She'd grown out of all that. Her grandmother's death had just sealed that door for her. As much as she tried to respect other people's beliefs, some of the worst things in her life had happened because of religion. So she'd sworn it off.

Though as she lay in bed, with abuelita kneading her hand and murmuring prayers, Ingrid found herself oddly at ease. She kept her eyes closed, thought of her grandmother. Wondered what she might have said about Jack. Ingrid began to recount her life to herself, to relay it to her grandma's spirit if, by any chance, it lingered somewhere out there.

Whether it did or not, Ingrid felt calmer by the time abuelita concluded her mystical pleas. The woman coaxed her adoptive granddaughter out of bed and fed her a hearty breakfast to cheer her up. It made Ingrid even more determined to see her promise through, despite the horror stories she'd read online about visiting Rikers Island.

October, 2017

With Ingrid unavailable during office hours, it was up to Caitlin to slowly work her way through the list of public records offices she'd put together and ask around about Sofia Ortega. As they got ready to go out to some early Halloween party one Friday night, Ingrid repeatedly thanked and apologised to Cait for the trouble.

"Will you stop it?" the girl exclaimed at some point.

Ingrid sighed, plopping down on her bed. "Sorry, I'm not usually... this jumpy. It's just – " Her head fell in her hands and she shook it. "Corporate hell should have its own special inferno circle, I swear."

Cait laughed and sat down next to her, putting her arm around her friend's shoulders. "Let it go, it's the weekend!"

"I'm trying to. Before Pri sees me. I won't hear the end of it if she does."

Speaking of the devil, the Australian princess happened to knock at the door just then, letting herself in right away.

"What's taking you two so long?" Pri chided. She had a wine glass in one hand.

Ingrid raised an eyebrow at her. "You wanted to get a head start?"

Pri glanced innocently down at her drink. "Oh, this?" She shrugged. "Appetiser."

"Fair enough," Cait replied and stood up, dragging Ingrid to her feet beside her. "Let's get going, ladies."

Cait's flatmates, on-off lovers Carol and Brie, joined them at the party for a while. They made a dramatic exit at some point, as a result of some couple's quarrel, which left Caitlin too worried to keep having fun. Besides, Priyanka had hooked up with some dude who decided to take her home, so it was soon just Cait and Ingrid shivering on the pavement as they waited for Edgar to come pick them up.

He'd insisted that his daughter call him when she'd had enough partying and Ingrid encouraged her to take him up on the offer.

"Let him wake up in the dead of the night and drive across the city if he asked for it," Ingrid had reasoned.

And, sure enough, he looked pretty miserable behind the wheel.

"So sorry, dad," Cait said as she got into the car beside him.

"Not sorry," Ingrid added, slipping into the backseat. He stared at her in the rearview mirror and grinned.

"Did you have fun?" he asked.

Cait groaned. "I was so going to, except Brie and Carol had to mess it all up!"

"Oh, no..." He sounded genuinely interested in this introduction that had the makings of teenage melodrama. "What happened?"

Was that a skill one developed as a parent? Ingrid rolled her eyes. Caitlin was more than happy to prattle on about her silly flatmates and Edgar actually listened.

Ingrid dozed off in the backseat and came to naked in her bed, save for her underwear, and unable to remember how she'd ended up there. It was just as well. She only got up to go to the bathroom, then climbed back under the blanket.

*

Caitlin had stayed the night in the spare bedroom, as had become her weekend custom over the past few weeks, and Pri must have not come home yet when Ingrid went downstairs for breakfast. She found Edgar and Caitlin sitting by themselves at the breakfast bar – a sight that, of late, warmed up her insides in a way that Ingrid didn't know what to make of.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Cait greeted and held out her arms.

Ingrid took the hint and shuffled over, letting the girl wrap herself around her and smooch her cheek. Edgar smiled down at his plate.

"Morning, sunshine." Ingrid kissed the top of Cait's head and ruffled her auburn hair. "Did you hear anything from our Aussie princess?"

"No," Edgar said as he hopped off his stool and made for the sink. "I was actually going to ask if you'd heard from her or could maybe give her a ring? I need all my employees safely accounted for, even at the weekend."

"Will do in a minute. I had nothing from her when I last checked."

Ingrid walked over beside Edgar, to reach up into a cupboard for a glass. It was a bit too high up, though, so he stretched his arm alongside hers and grabbed it for her. She playfully poked his ribs in the process. He retaliated with a quick splash of water, from the very glass he'd brought down for her.

Ingrid gasped loudly. Water dripped down the front of her tank top onto the kitchen tiles. "You motherf – "

She launched herself at him, aiming to pinch him so hard he screamed, but his arms overpowered her and held her against him, her back pressed into his chest.

Ingrid chanced a glance sideways as she struggled to wriggle free and saw Caitlin watching them. That killed her resistance. Edgar followed her gaze and suddenly let her go.

"No, don't mind me!" Caitlin said, way too cheerfully. "Carry on," she winked and got up to go.

Edgar gave Ingrid an apologetic look. "I should probably – "

"Yeah," Ingrid nodded, "go."

She leaned into the sink, out of breath. Despite the cold water she wiped from her face, a wave of heat surged within her.

*

Edgar caught up with his daughter in the living room and called out to get her attention. She turned around, smiling. It puzzled him. His interaction with Ingrid earlier had been a dead giveaway of their relationship and yet, it didn't seem to affect Cait much.

"I'm sorry about that," he said and cleared his throat. "I don't want to make up some bullshit excuse, I just... I'm sorry you had to see it."

Cait shook her head. "You're fine, dad. I, um... I knew."

His eyebrows bounced into his forehead.

"And no, Ingrid didn't tell me. She just confirmed it. I... I figured it out on my own."

"Right." Edgar didn't know what else to say. Put his hands on his hips for lack of a better thing to do.

"Listen, dad," Cait filled the silence with an unusual timorous voice, "while we're at it... there's something I need to tell you, too."

Edgar dropped his hands, assuming what he hoped was a less intimidating posture. "What is it, pumpkin?"

"I – first you must promise you won't get mad at me. Or Ingrid."

"I promise. Scout's honour, as they say."

Cait managed a half-hearted smile. Then she told him.

Edgar listened but could hardly believe his ears.

Failed to comprehend that it was really his daughter telling him these things. Dreaded to accept that she wasn't his innocent little girl any longer, that she'd grown up into a woman and could have been a mother.

Then, once he'd processed that information, it made his heart race to realise he'd been unable to shield her from selfish, irresponsible boys – the likes of which he'd used to be.

Then, like a tsunami in the wake of an earthquake, it hit him that he'd lost a grandchild. That, having been kept in the dark, he'd never had the chance to suggest a better solution. To offer his own wise guidance and protection.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he gasped, struggling to keep his cool.

"I... I wanted to, dad," the girl fidgeted with the hem of her jumper, "I did, but I was afraid you wouldn't understand. I couldn't bring myself to."

"Well, you're right, I don't understand. I don't understand why you wouldn't tell me such a thing. I'm your father, Caitlin."

"Yes, but still... It's not something I felt comfortable sharing with you, considering – "

"Considering what, Caitlin?"

The girl's cheeks reddened. He recognised the bashful expression she always made when he'd scold her. Strained to rein his temper in.

"Considering mum never wanted me, either, except she had no choice but to have me."

The blood drained from his body, left him feeling numb and cold.

"Caitlin, how – "

"It doesn't matter now!" the girl exclaimed. "It's done. Get over it. I have. I should have never told you. Jesus."

Something suddenly struck him that got his blood boiling again.

"What about Ingrid? Did you tell her?"

Cait averted her gaze.

"You did..." His voice died. "You told Ingrid but you couldn't tell me? Caitlin, I – " He licked his lips, huffing. "How many children has Ingrid had? That's right, none. I could have helped you, Caitlin, I – "

"Oh, wow," Cait cut him off, "oh, are you seriously – are you seriously implying that you know fucking better? Better than me? Better than – "

"Well, I'm still providing for you, aren't I?"

That earned him a resounding slap.

"Don't you fucking dare," Cait growled. "You don't know shit! See, this is why I didn't want to tell you! And for your information – Ingrid does know. She does understand because she's had to live through this very same thing herself."

The girl wiped at her eyes, her hands trembling.

"You're just the fucking worst," she mumbled and stomped off.

"Caitlin! Wait, Caitlin!"

Edgar followed her up the stairs but upon reaching the third floor, he bumped into Ingrid who was just coming out of the library.

"What happened?" she asked. "Where is Cait, what did you do?"

That question tripped a wire in his brain, set his fury right off. "What did I do? What did I do?" Rage contorted his features. "What have you done, Ingrid?"

"What are you on about?"

He could see that she'd guessed his meaning and gave a bitter laugh. "You're smarter than that, love. You know bloody well what I'm on about! How could you? How? She's my daughter, not yours!" Edgar poked hard at his chest for emphasis.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do you need your other cheek slapped? Or would you rather I kicked you in the balls? 'Cause I'm sure dying to."

That forced some pause into him and she dashed past him upstairs.

"Ingrid!"

She heard him follow her, but Ingrid reached Cait's bedroom first and slammed the door shut in his face. The girl was violently sobbing in her bed. Ingrid climbed in beside her and pulled Caitlin into her arms.

"Hey, sweetie, no, don't cry, come on."

Cait buried her face in Ingrid's chest.

"It's not your fault, okay? It's your body, your choice. Your daddy loves you, of course he does, but sometimes, he's just too fucking catholic for his own good."

That made Cait chuckle underneath the flood of tears.

"Listen to me." Ingrid grabbed her chin to look the girl in the eye. "You are good, and strong, and smart, and you're beautiful. You have your life ahead of you. A great life. It's normal to feel insecure, to be uncertain. But know this: your body is your own. You get to choose, you get to decide for yourself. No one else. Not me, not your dad or your mum, not your boyfriend... No one. Just you."

Cait gradually calmed down as Ingrid ran her fingers through her hair.

"Your dad..." Ingrid sighed. "I know, trust me, but just for a second, try to put yourself in his shoes. Your arrival took your parents by surprise, but you became your dad's purpose in life. He loves you more than anything, more than life itself, and knowing this... Having had you, can you imagine what it's like for him when someone – especially his beloved daughter – tells him they terminated an unwanted pregnancy? He can't fathom it."

"I know," Cait sniffled, "I get it, I do... but would it hurt if he put himself in my shoes for a change?"

"Oh, sweet sunshine, I know... Believe me, I do. I'll take care of your dad, you just relax, cool off. I'll go put the kettle on, yeah? Bring you up a cuppa."

Cait nodded and Ingrid kissed the girl's forehead.

Edgar had been eavesdropping by the door and he pounced on her as soon as she stepped out. "Ingrid – "

"Don't talk to me," she spat.

"Please – "

"I said," she whipped round on the stairs, "don't talk to me! I'll deal with you later."

Gulping, he clamped his mouth shut and kept up with her two steps behind. He watched her make tea, in utter silence, lingering in a corner of the kitchen like a ghost, while she busied herself around.

"Wait for me in the study," she told him as she left.

He complied and relocated to the third floor. Couldn't bring himself to sit down, though, and resorted instead to pacing around and replaying the confrontation with his daughter, then with Ingrid, over and over in his mind. He wringed his shaky hands, feeling cold sweat dribble down his nape.

Ingrid's impassioned speech to his daughter had stabbed him in the heart, word after word. Not her daughter? Well, she'd been doing a much better job of parenting her than him, it appeared. Edgar squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at them with thumb and forefinger, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He'd fucked up. Again. Possibly worse than he had in Amsterdam. He needed to get a hold on his temper. Lifting his hand up to his eyes, he watched it tremble and balled it into a fist.

Ingrid showed up in the middle of his self-remonstrative trance. He heard her lock the door. Hesitated to face her.

"Well, you done fucked up, bossman."

Her tone sounded too casual for the situation. It worked better to scare him than her anger would have.

Ingrid crossed her arms over her chest, keeping her distance. "Your daughter's not a baby anymore, you know?"

"I..." His voice wasn't quite there. He cleared his throat. "I know."

That sudden epiphany was probably the biggest shock of the day.

"You don't get to choose for her," Ingrid continued. "Not when it comes to something like this. I helped her make an informed decision and see it through. She didn't want to end up like her mother... hating her child. Making their lives miserable. And her dipshit ex-boyfriend couldn't care enough to wear a fucking condom. Why should she jeopardise her studies – her future – over something like this?"

He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, his jaw clenched tight.

"Where do you think I would be," Ingrid murmured, "if I'd had Jack's child? Do you think I'd be here, on my own two feet? Making my own money? Do you think I'd be alive? You got real fucking lucky, Edgar, but you also didn't have to carry that baby to term. Chew on that, why don't you?"

Her feet padded across the carpet, the lock turned, then the door creaked open before it fell closed. In quiet solitude, Edgar finally dared to cry.

*

song of the chapter: too sad to cry by sasha sloan

who else missed edgar being a dick?  🙋‍♀️

...no? just me?...😅

ok. 🙈