Chapter Forty-Seven
Blake
T his morning, I woke up feeling more anxious than at any point yesterday. It was almost paralyzing, as I laid in Adrian’s bed, him sleeping next to me while I tried to gain the courage to face my dad.
He woke up soon after I did and stayed there with me, laying soft kisses on my skin and offering words of encouragement, until I knew I needed to do this before any of us—my dad, Adrian, or I—saw each other at work this morning.
Now, as I stand outside of my house, I’m nervous to go inside for the first time in my life.
Biting my lip, I stand at the bottom of the steps and just stare at the door. More than anything, I’m embarrassed and a bit ashamed of the way I acted toward my dad.
I wasn’t lying about why I never wanted to call my dad and not want to put him in a position that compromises his boundaries again. But the way I lashed out at him was out of line. I didn’t mean any of it, and I know none of it is true. I knew it as the words were falling off my tongue, I just couldn’t stop them.
Usually, my word vomit causes me embarrassment. Not ever harm to someone else. Especially not someone I care about.
The front door opens slowly, and my breath catches in my throat. It comes out in a whoosh when I see my mom standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and hip on the frame. But it’s the soft, maternal smile painted on her lips that gives me the courage to take the first step.
When I’m only a foot in front of her, she pulls me into her arms. “ Morrita ,” she murmurs into my hair. “I’m proud of you.”
Pulling back, I look at her in disbelief. “You shouldn’t be. Hasn’t Dad told you?”
Running a hand down my head, hair loose and air drying from my shower this morning, she nods. “He did. And I didn’t mean that —it’s not our conversation to have. I’m proud of you for being here this morning. You’re allowed to take time, but you can’t avoid these hard conversations either.”
Quietly, I tell her, “I know. I don’t want to hide from them anymore.”
Even if every hard conversation doesn’t result in positive changes, it doesn’t mean they aren’t important. And over the last couple of months, Adrian’s given me the space, and safety, to grow more confident in myself; to learn to trust the intentions of others.
With her arm wrapped around my shoulder, she guides me into the kitchen where my dad’s already putting together breakfast burritos. The one he’s wrapping, I know, is for me. I’m the only one in the family who likes my tortillas a little more burnt and crunchier.
When I walk into the room, he looks up and there’s a soft tilt of his lips. It’s sadder than the one I got from my mom.
“Hi, Dad,” I greet him. Slowly, I take the seat next to my mom and watch as my dad finishes putting the burrito together and pushes the plate toward me.
“Hi, honey. Do you want coffee?” I shake my head. Adrian already made me coffee and breakfast, but this feels like an olive branch. One I don’t deserve—it pinches at my heart anyway. Turning toward the cabinet, he asks, “Juice?”
My eyes suddenly fill with tears—my guilt and love for this man growing exponentially. Nodding, I mutter, “Sure.”
His brows furrow, pouring me a glass of pineapple juice before he leans his hands on the island across from me. The look on his face is open, as much as it is expected.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, the first tear sliding down my cheek. Clearing her throat, my mom grabs for her plate and moves to stand. I gently grab her wrist. “No, no. You can stay… You should stay.”
She glances from Dad back to me and tenderly says, “I don’t have to, Blake. Your dad can tell me later.”
“No,” I insist. With a deep breath, I meet her eye and add, “I know I messed up. And you deserve to hear this from me as well.”
A proud look crosses her face as she sits back down and settles in her seat, sipping her coffee. I know this is her way of saying she’s a bystander—and possibly a mediator—but isn’t a participant of the conversation.
With one more meaningful look in her direction, I square my shoulders and meet my dad’s gaze. I don’t know how to read him at this moment because there’s so many conflicting emotions flashing through his eyes.
“Dad,” I start again, gathering my bearings this time, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for going behind your back and doubting you would know how to handle these situations in a fair way. I’m sorry that I brought Adrian into this mess. I know how much you’ve enjoyed mentoring him. And I know he loves the relationship just as much.
“I never understood how this field could suck you in emotionally. I saw the toll it took on you, and I heard you talk openly about the challenges my entire life, but I was never able to understand past that initial empathy. I have a better idea of what you go through every single day now.”
His brows flick up only there’s no judgement. Just curiosity. “You do?”
Nodding, I promise, “I do.” Biting my tongue—literally—I think through my next words before letting the anxiety get the best of me. “It’s on a much smaller scale than what you deal with every single day, but fuck—”
“ Cuida tu boca ,” my mom chimes in, reminding me to watch my mouth.
With a small eye roll, I side-eye her and amend, “But freaking A , it’s hard.” She just squints at me, not correcting me any further. “I thought… I thought if I just helped Erika with Zippy, it would be the same thing as helping Lela with the insurance or sitting with Polly during the surgery. Even as we made the choice, it didn’t feel the same… It didn’t feel right .”
“And if Archie’s nail hadn’t cracked in half the way it did, would you have called me? Or would you have taken matters into your own hands again?”
For the first time during the conversation, I look away from him. Dropping my gaze to my lap, I watch as I begin to fidget—my thumb starts by tapping my pointer finger, moving through each one and back up. Without a word, my mom slides her hand into mine and interlaces them.
“I think I would’ve tried to fix it myself,” I confess in a small voice.
From my peripheral, he nods his head, and I can see the hurt, making me double down on being too scared to meet his eye.
“Thank you for being honest.” To his credit, he sounds like he means it. “Now, after this conversation, what would you do for an animal in need?”
Sighing, I lift my head and say, “I would call you—or the hospital if I knew you were off or whatever. I would do the right thing and trust that you all know the best course of action—both medically and financially.”
The small smile reaches his lips again, except this time it’s a little less sad. “Good. I don’t know what I’ve done for you to not trust me—”
“It’s not that,” I cut in, almost desperately. “Dad, I promise. You haven’t done anything wrong. I was trying to protect you. That’s all.”
My mom’s hand squeezes around mine as my dad tells me, in a firm but affectionate voice, “It’s not your responsibility to protect me. We”—he points between my mom and himself— “are meant to protect you, honey.”
The sentiment is sweet, yet it causes a small bubble of anger inside of me. “But we’re a family . Just because I’m the youngest person in it doesn’t mean I have to be sheltered forever. And I know— I know —I didn’t do it right this time, okay? But it’s Grady too. Just because I’m three years younger than him. I’m strong enough to be there for you all as well.”
“You’re one of the strongest people we’ve ever known, Blake.” My mom’s hand moves from mine to smooth down my hair lovingly.
“That’s not what I meant—you being incapable of handling it. I’m sorry I implied that.” As fast as it came, the anger subsides, and I’m left feeling silly for my reaction again. “Only that we’re your parents and you’ve already spent so much of your life worrying. About everything, all the time. And it’s your turn to just live your life. Not worry about us, or the clients, or animals. And if this job is too much for you, then okay—let’s talk about that.”
Shaking my head, I bite my lip and ruefully admit, “That’s not an option anymore.” My parents look at each other in confusion before their heads swing simultaneously back to me. Shifting in my seat awkwardly, I tell them, “Well… I texted Mom to let her know I’d be staying with Adrian.”
My dad doesn’t look nearly as perturbed by the information as I expected. “I figured you would, since Margo and Meera aren’t an option.”
“Yeah, well, he helped me come up with a plan. For my future.”
“Your future?” my mom asks gently. It’s not something they’ve pushed offering more space than most parents probably would on the matter.
I nod once. “It’s not that I haven’t thought about it, I just really wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. But we spent most of the evening going over it and I think… No, no. I know I want to work at the vet clinic long-term.”
The surprise on my dad’s face is evident since I’ve never shown interest in any type of medicine before. “You know there’s no pressure on you and Grady to ever become a veterinarian.”
“God, no . Not that.” That makes both of my parents chuckle. “I want to open an outreach program through the clinic. Like a community health sector, for animals though.”
“ Morrita ,” my mom warmly murmurs; my eyes stay fixed on my dad now.
“I— we —could help more people. It would be independently funded from the clinic itself, but most importantly, it would be ethical.” He opens his mouth to say something, while I steamroll on, “It wouldn’t only be surgeries. We could host free clinic days and pet education courses. It’s actually crazy how many options there are. So many things I’ve never even considered, but we could do it.”
“Blake,” he cuts in. “This sounds amazing—truly, honey. I’d be honored to be a part of this with you. Just don’t get ahead of yourself. This isn’t something we could do overnight.”
“I know,” I insist. “It would be at least a six-year plan. And that’s if I can get into UCAH for the fall semester.”
“University of California, Aurora Hills?” my mom asks, surprised. “You’re that sure about this?”
Finally turning toward her, I nod emphatically. “Yeah, I am. It’s the first thing that’s ever made me feel excited for a career. I feel stupid not thinking of it myself.”
“Don’t say that,” she chastises.
“I’m serious. It never occurred to me that I could make this into a career. I mean, obviously, I know there are charities and community programs. But you guys raised us to help when we can and taught us how to be a kind neighbor—all of that stuff. It’s just something you do .” I shrug. “I never thought about it further than that.”
With a mischievous smirk, she hits my shoulder with hers. “Adrian helped you realize that, huh?”
Rolling my eyes, I huff out a breath, my cheeks warming by the second. “Yes, he did.”
“I think it’s a brilliant idea, honey,” my dad cuts in. And that paternal pride has lit up his eyes again. “I’d love to be able to do more for the residents of Amada Beach, and Aurora Hills, but I’m at my bandwidth between medical exams, surgeries and admin tasks.”
“Maybe I can start helping with that more, the smaller tasks at least, until I get more education and experience. I want to be involved, Dad. And I hope you’ll give me the chance to do it right this time.”
Walking around the island, he pulls me into his arms, and I hug him back, reveling in the unconditional love he has for me. “I’d love that, Blake. This was a learning experience, but that’s all it can be. Once . Let’s do this the right way, together.”
Smiling up at him, I nod. “Together.”
My mom taps her finger on the island, and I imagine her attempting to bite her tongue behind me. After only three taps, she poses, “Does that ‘together’ include Adrian too then?”
Turning in my chair toward her, I scowl, but it’s playful. “I mean, he’s the one most responsible for the new plan. So, I’d say yes.” Though, I don’t really know how involved he wants to be going forward. He was supportive and seemed excited, but he’s still figuring out what part of the field he’d want to specialize in.
“And does that mean Adrian’s a part of more plans than just your professional one’s going forward?”
As if to encourage me to be honest, my dad squeezes my shoulder and walks back to his coffee mug.
“I—yes. I think so.” I hope so . “It’s new, like very new. But we’re together.”
My mom breaks out into a wide, giddy smile. She’s been Adrian’s biggest supporter since the beginning. “Oh, that’s great. He’s a good one.”
“He is,” I nod in agreement, while blushing, and wishing the conversation would end. Turning to my dad, I ask, “Are you okay with this?”
He gives me a weird look before nodding. “Of course I am. Adrian’s proven to be everything I thought he was from the interview— mostly responsible, tolerant, a fast thinker, kind. I have eyes so don’t think I haven’t noticed how loyal he’s been to you in these last few months. If you’re happy, then I’m happy, Blake.”
Trying to hide my smile, I quietly admit, “I am happy with him.” I can’t make eye contact with either of them. It’s a big admission for me. And after everything this morning, I’m feeling more vulnerable than usual.
“Good,” my mom chirps. “Because your father invited him to spend Christmas with us.”
Laughing, I pick up my burrito, taking a small bite. “He told me. And thank you for doing that. It means a lot to him.” Biting again, I shrug and swallow. “And me.”
The rest of our short breakfast goes easier, with them asking about what my plans are for the fall semester and offering advice along the way. Soon after I finish my juice and set the remainder of my food down, my dad leaves for the clinic, and I promise to see him there in a couple hours.
island of misfit toys
Sun, Dec 14 at 7:47 AM
I’ve figured it out.
That’s all I have to say for Meera and Margo to understand.
‘You’ll figure it out, Blake,’ they’ve told me a hundred times now.
Meera
You mean *IT*?
Like the big life decision IT?
Margo
Don’t keep us waiting, bitch
Meera
I’m calling you right now
Laughing, I fall back on my bed and answer the FaceTime call from Meera. Margo’s in the frame too, the sight of them makes me emotional all over. Shoving that down, I start talking as more of that weight lifts off of me.