The Problem with Emerson

04 | The Problem with Fathers

THE PROBLEM WITH FATHERS, in Brie's opinion, was that they were either shitty, or slightly less shitty.

And with a sample size of one, those were some pretty shitty odds.

The cheques had started coming in when she was ten.  Well, the noticeable ones anyway.  Brie knew that the money had been coming in pretty much since she was born, but the amount had been insignificant in comparison to the expenses Isla had to juggle.

As a naïve kid, Brie had regarded the money as a miracle. Finally, her mother wouldn't have to pretend she wasn't crying in the confines of the bathroom because she was overly stressed out about their financial situation.

Finally.

What Brie didn't realize until much later was that the thing her father was really buying was their silence.

It wasn't until a year and a half later, when she was eleven, that Brie fully discovered the real reason her father was sending them money. He was beginning to get into local politics, and he couldn't have his bastard child's existence become public knowledge. In a city like Tremblay – or really any city, when he was trying to pull off the image of a perfect family man – that would ruin him.

Christopher Reynolds, son of lawyer, Ian Reynolds, and philanthropist, Rosemary Reynolds, was as blue blooded as they came.  He had been groomed for politics from a very young age, and now that he had a wife and a white picket fence, he was the popular vote in Tremblay.

For months, Brie had to see his face on election signs all over the city, and as the polls got closer and closer to opening, she noticed that the cheques got bigger and bigger. 

Her mother had done her best to keep those things from her, but Brie had been a resourceful child.  And now, at nineteen, she saw him only twice a year.  Once, at the end of summer, to collect her first semester's tuition, and then sometime in December, for a warped version of Christmas and another cheque for second semester.

She was thankful for the money because financial aid was trash and it would be hard for her to scrape together the balance otherwise.  But she was angry at the money's implications.

It made her feel dirty, like she was taking a bribe.  And, technically, she was.  But on the other hand, maybe she deserved to have a leg up.  Her father wasn't there for her, but at least she wouldn't be swimming in debt once she finished university.

It was already getting dark when Brie stepped off the bus.  She tugged at the back of her dress that had ridden up on the ride from her neighbourhood to Stork's Landing.  Admittedly, the dress was probably too small, something she still had from high school.  But it was the only nice thing she had that was winter-appropriate, and she wasn't about to go out and buy something just to put on a show for her father.  Especially when she hadn't even planned on being there tonight to begin with.

A week ago, Brie had gotten an email from her father's overeager assistant, Felicity, inviting her to dinner tonight.  It was only November, so their semi-annual obligatory dinner wasn't meant to be for another month, but Felicity explained that Mr. Reynolds was surprising the family with a month-long trip to Hawaii to spend Christmas and ring in the new year, so we had to reschedule.

To a younger Brie, those words would have severely wounded her, but she had learned the art of grinning and bearing it long ago.  She wasn't a part of his family – she never had been – and now all she cared about was getting her tuition money.

The gate attendant gave her a strange look as she walked up the winding roadway.  It probably wasn't often that guests tried to access Stork's Landing on foot.  Especially since the residents were known to own nothing short of Teslas, Ferraris and Bentleys.