34. Chapter 35
Chapter 35
CHARLOTTE
T he bell on the door of Java the Hutt jingles as I step inside, unsurprised to see the long line. It’s Saturday, which means it’s busy. Business won’t die down until well after lunch, only for it to pick back up again after the mad dash from the football game when people stop by for a cup of something hot to warm their bones.
Standing on my toes, I peer around the small café, my gaze lifting above the patrons in line and bouncing from table to table until I spot my father holding a drink, and waiting for me in the back by a life-size Chewbacca. Catching my eye, he lifts a paper cup and points at me, letting me know he already ordered.
With a deep breath, I make my way toward him, feeling the weight of the last week like a coat of armor weighing me down. I haven’t seen my father since the night we all had dinner, so I’m not sure what I expect from this meeting, but as I approach, I’m relieved to see he doesn’t seem angry. Instead, he almost seems glad to see me as he stands and wraps me up in a hug.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, having no idea why my eyes are suddenly misty.
“Hey, pumpkin.” He settles into a chair across from me, pushing a paper cup and a chocolate chip scone in my direction. “I was here early. Hope you don’t mind that I ordered. Got your favorite chai.”
“Not at all. Thanks,” I say with a smile. Now that we’re here, face-to-face, the unresolved tension between us feels like an elephant on my chest. Lifting my tea, I take a sip, hoping it’ll soothe my nerves but unsurprised when it doesn’t. “Look, Dad, I just want to say I’m sorry, for telling Barb about the money you gave Mom.” I swallow, finding the courage to meet his eyes. “And for making it seem like it was more than it was, that you planned on supporting her throughout your marriage, and that you had . . . unresolved feelings.” I wince, hating how awful it sounds to say it out loud. “I was hurt and frustrated, but that’s no excuse. I never should’ve done it.”
Dad reaches out and squeezes my free hand. “I was a jerk. I get it, and I don’t hold it against you.” He sighs and rakes a hand through his short hair. “Hell, had I been upfront with her from the beginning, it would’ve been a non-issue.”
“Why weren’t you?” I ask, wondering why he kept it from her in the first place.
“It’s stupid.” He shakes his head, taking a sip of his coffee, then says, “Part of me thought it looked bad, like it would be a pattern that would continue into our marriage, and I was afraid she wouldn’t understand. And because a part of me feels guilty.”
I swallow. If my father feels guilty, it’s news to me. “About what?”
He laughs dryly. “A lot of things.” He lifts his coffee cup to his lips and takes a sip, his eyes trained on the table as he says, “For not being able to save her, mostly.”
His words burn through me like a forest fire, tearing through years of toxic thoughts and feeling like if I could just do enough, be enough, I could make her happy. The only difference is he was able to evacuate and save himself, but I wasn’t.
Dropping my gaze to my hands, I grip my cup tighter, blinking away the moisture pooling in my eyes as his soft voice finds me again. “Look, Charlotte, I’ve been pretending for years that our relationship isn’t strained. I think a part of me thought if I acted like everything was fine, somehow it would be, but that’s clearly not the case. You’re mad at me, and I think you have been for a long time. I don’t even blame you for it, but I’m hoping we can put the past behind us,” he says. “Because I’d like more than anything to make things right between us.”
Emotion rises to the back of my throat, and I swallow, forcing it down as I lift my eyes to his. “It’s not that easy.”
“It can be, if you let it.”
“So, let me get this straight . . .” The edges of my anger fray, unraveling like a ball of yarn. “Years later, now that you’ve rebuilt your life and found a new wife, you want to fix us?”
Uncertainty flickers through his eyes, and I can see this isn’t how he hopes I’d respond. “It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it? Because from where I’m sitting, you didn’t just leave Mom, Dad. You left me .” I point at my chest, feeling the pain of my words like a dagger. “Do you even know what I endured once you were gone? I had to take care of her when she was too depressed to get off the couch. Who do you think cooked and cleaned and did the laundry? I can’t tell you how many times I had to wake her so she could go to work or remind her to pay the bills. At fifteen with only a permit, I was driving her around and running errands for her like it was my fucking job!”
Dad flinches, and maybe it should make me feel bad, but it only pisses me off more, because the truth hurts.
“Remember how I swapped my car for hers? The one you got me when I turned sixteen?” He nods, his eyes a portrait in pain as he waits for me to elaborate. “I told you it was because I didn’t like it, but the truth is she couldn’t hold a job and had no insurance. Alimony and child support only went so far, so when I finally convinced her to go to therapy, I sold her car as a way to pay her therapist and gave her mine instead. I foolishly thought it might make her happy. That she’d see my sacrifice and try harder to get her shit together and be a mother.” I tear off a piece of my scone and angrily pop it in my mouth. “You can guess how well that worked out.”
Dad opens his mouth to speak, but I continue before he has the chance. “I know Mom’s depression wasn’t your fault, and I’m not blaming you for that, but what I am blaming you for is leaving me with her when you should’ve taken me with you. So, if you wanna feel guilty about something, feel guilty about that .”
Dad’s throat works, his voice weak. “I thought I was doing what was best?”
“Yeah, for her!” I shout with a wave of an arm. “You’re no better than I am, always catering to her. You did what you thought was best for her , because you know damn well how ugly it would’ve gotten if she had no one, not even me, and it’s not like I wanted that for her, but I needed you,” I say, angry when a tear spills down my cheeks.
I swallow over the lump in my throat, swiping furiously at my cheeks. “You know, for a long time, I resented you for leaving. I thought you should’ve stayed, fought harder to save her. In sickness and in health, that’s what your vows were.”
“I couldn’t.” He shakes his head, his chin wobbling as emotion shines in his eyes. “No matter what I did, nothing was ever enough. I tried so damn hard to help her, Charlotte, you have no idea.”
I laugh, a bitter sound that dies in my throat. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea, because I lived it too, and it fucking sucked, Dad. I felt . . . abandoned,” I say, my voice thick. “Like you didn’t love me enough to save me. That I wasn’t worth it.”
“Oh, Charlotte . . .” His voice cracks as he reaches out and takes both of my hands in his. “That’s the furthest thing from the truth, and I see now how wrong I was to leave you with her. Honest to god, I thought you were okay. I thought that’s what you wanted. I asked you, remember? I asked if you wanted to stay.”
“I know,” I say, “but I was a stupid kid, and the idea of her being alone scared me. I didn’t know what she’d do if she had no one, so of course, I told you I wanted to stay with her. But it was your job as my parent to keep me safe, to do what was best for me regardless of what I wanted or what I said. I needed you to do what was best for me because it’s what I needed , not what I wanted.”
“Fuck, Charlotte, I’m . . .” He blinks, the moisture in his eyes spilling over. “I didn’t realize this is how you felt, but I should have. No wonder you’ve been mad at me. I don’t blame you one bit for hating me.”
Pain lances through my chest, ripping through bone and muscle. “I don’t hate you.”
“But you thought I left you with her because I didn’t care.” He chokes on a sob, releasing my hands to cover his face while my heart clenches at the sight of him, sobbing over his coffee at the things I’ve said. It’s the first time I’ve seen him cry, and watching the impact of my words isn’t nearly as cathartic as I’d hoped. “God, I wish . . .” He shakes his head, his mouth pinched like he’s holding something back.
“You wish what?” I ask over the lump in my throat.
He drags in a ragged breath, and his watery gaze meets mine. “A couple weeks after the divorce was finalized, I wanted to try and convince you to come live with me.”
The air stalls in my lungs. “You did?”
He nods, wiping at his damp cheeks. “It was just before Thanksgiving. I picked you up at the house and took you to lunch, but you couldn’t stop talking about how happy you were and how well things were going. Then you started going on about the school dance and all the friends you’d been hanging out with, and I just couldn’t do that to you. It felt selfish, tearing you away from a life that was making you happy.”
“I remember . . .” My gaze drifts over his shoulder, staring into space. “I was upset with you still and trying to put on a brave face, pretending that everything was great because part of me felt like I had to prove neither of us needed you.”
“Because you resented me,” he admits, and I say nothing, letting my silence speak for itself. “Do you think you can forgive me? That we can ever be close again? Because I want that, Charlotte. I want that a lot.”
I stare at my father with his bloodshot eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and hopeful expression. Before I sat down with him, my answer would’ve been no. Hell, he already asked if we could repair our strained relationship when I got here, and I laughed at him. But now . . . Now I see him for who he is, not just a father or a husband, but a man who was only human and just trying to do his best. He wanted me, but he felt guilty leaving and knew my mother needed me more, so he made a judgment call?albeit the wrong one?and thought I was happy. I’d even told him as much to spite him because I was angry and hurt and lost.
But I don’t have to be any of those things anymore. I’m the one behind the wheel of my life.
I reach out and take his hand in mine, giving it a little squeeze as my heart warms. “I think I’d like that.”
He exhales, like he’s been holding his breath, and the tension in his shoulders melts. “You know, Chris has told me more than once since I met him that our relationship was something I needed to deal with, but I think I was in denial. I knew we weren’t in a good place, obviously, but it was easier to ignore it and just hope things would magically get better. Guilt is a hard thing to live with.”
I blink, shocked. “Chris said something to you?”
“He did.” Dad smiles. “I actually think he’s part of the reason I got so upset when I saw the way you and him were looking at each other that night at dinner. Here he was, this kid you seemed to hate a little over a month ago, and all of a sudden, you were able to push that aside and be with him. That’s all I wanted for us.” I shift in my seat, wondering what Dad would think if he knew I blew it. Maybe he already knows. “He’s one of the good ones,” he continues. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you so comfortable with a guy before.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty amazing,” I say with a weak smile.
“Hey,” my father dips his head, catching my gaze. “He might be an amazing man, but he’s damn lucky to have you. Any man would be.”