Through the Glass

Pop's Coffee and Handshakes

My father and I soon found ourselves in a booth at Pop's diner. I was greeted with waves and smiles. I guessed the the iconic red hair from Mom and Archie was what showed everyone who I was.
Sitting in front of my father, I noticed how much he had truly changed in these two and a half years I lived with Mom. He thinned out a bit, his brown hair was fading to a mix with grey, and laughter lines had formed a bit around his eyes. Shit, my dad was getting old.
"So how did Chicago treat you?" Dad asked as the waitress sat our coffees down. My father began to stir in pre-packaged creams as he waited for my answer.
My experience in Chicago was... well, an adventure. There were a million things that I could tell him about. "It was busy... I got street smarts now, which is good. It was fun. I made some great friends. You'd like them."
A sense of pride was strong in me. Chicago was no amusement park. I didn't emerge unscathed, but I was safe. That's why I survived and thrived, because I was careful.
"How was school? Did you do well?" He asked curiously as the waitress walked away, after she promised she'd be back in a few moments to take our order.
The 50s diner smelt of french fries and had the chill of ice cream still in the September air. It brought back all the times Archie and I would ride our bikes here when I was still in high school.
"Yeah," I smiled at him. "I was Valedictorian of my class, which is surprising seeing as there was math involved," I joked. Math was my worst subject in high school.
"I'm sorry we couldn't make it out for graduation," Dad frowned. I had sent my dad a long email about my graduation. He did his best to come out, and I knew that. My father owns his own business and I understood how hard it was for him to leave town. I had mom record my speech and everything, so I could show him when I got back.
"It's okay," I smiled wider at my father. He was a sincere and helpful man. "In fact, I would like to enlist your help,"
Dad seemed a little a bit hesitant to hear these words. I had been back for less than two hours and I was already trying to make major business deals. "O-okay, kid. What's up?"
"I left my photography studio group in Chicago, to come here, and I'd like to know if you could possibly help me with decisions in Riverdale, for starting my own company."
My dad's company flourished, and I'd take all his wise advice I could find from my dad.
After a moment, the hesitation fell from my father's face and was replaced with a prideful, happy smile. "Of course, Mads,"
The blonde waitress, who I was pretty positive had a crush on my dad, was back to take our orders. I ordered poached eggs, my father ordered scrambled.
"I have plans made, and I'd like to hire your crew," I explained thoughtfully with a smile as I grabbed the red folder that was sticking up from my purse.
"What?" My dad said, shocked as he set his coffee down on the linoleum countertop.
"Who else would I hire?" I joked with a smile at him as I showed him the building. "This is a building in the town square. Prime location. I made a bid over the phone yesterday, and I'm signing for it today."
"So you need guys for internal or external?" My dad asked me as he looked at the photos of the store in the folder.
"Both. It was a sports store. I need to strip it down and give it major TLC for the front. I can pay up front the whole amount."
I could feel the pride radiating off my father as he saw how collected I was for 22. "I'll get a contract for you today," Dad smiled as he handed me back the closed folder. "Congratulations, Madison. I'm very proud of you."

**********

After I dropped my father off at work, who promised me a contract to sign, I went to the location of my studio. Everything was cleaned out, but I needed the guys to take down the wall, do wiring and lighting, and add changing rooms.
The inside was dim, no lights working, and shelves still placed for holding merchandise. I had a vision of how my shop would look, and I refused to accept anything different. My dad and I were the same like that. We had similar minds for design, so our ideas should click easily.
This photography studio was a small headquarters for my plans. I was still high on the list for major news channels and magazines for photography, so this would be a side job. It was an expensive side job, but what photographer would I be if I didn't take dance pictures for twelve year old ballerinas?
The realtor met me there for the final signing of papers. My realtor was a happy, older lady with grey hair. She had thick spectacles lining her face and laugh lines just like my father.
"Congratulations, Miss Andrews," my realtor, Caren, said. "You have just purchased your first studio."
I knew I would hear those words, but I couldn't help but be happy at the idea that I finally had my first studio.
"Thank you," I smiled at her as we shook hands. "Thank you so much."