Chapter Fifteen
Chloe
Paul still isn’t home when I wake in the morning. The sad thing is, I’m not concerned, not worried he might be dead in a ditch, and not afraid of him being in the arms of another woman. This is sadder than I imagined.
I make an impulsive decision to visit my dad. In the hardest times of my life, hearing the deep timbre of my father’s voice can calm the storm raging inside me in a single heartbeat. His presence can make all of my worries disappear. I need my father.
I quickly pack a bag and then leave my house within fifteen minutes. I don’t bother making coffee first; instead, I choose to stop at a coffee house to take it with me. Once it’s in my vehicle I press my foot against the pedal of my rarely used car and make my way out of the bustling city of Portland, feeling some stress disappear as soon as the busy freeways are behind me, the coast not far away. I’m excited to see my dad, who I haven’t visited in months, which is unacceptable. I love my father. He’s always been my favorite person on this planet, someone I’ve always been able to count on.
I’ve never had to share my dad with anyone... well, anyone other than family. Since I was a child, I’ve never seen him with a woman. I’m not sure how well I’d handle that, which makes me selfish. I should want him to have a true love, someone to keep him warm at night. But the thought of not being his number one crushes my soul. I’d love to be happy for him to have a partner as everyone deserves to have a happy relationship, but all I’d feel is jealousy. Maybe I have more problems than I’m willing to admit.
I assure myself I’m not selfish, that my father always promises me he’s not lonely, he lives a full and rich life on his own. I want to believe he feels this way, but I guess part of the reason I stay with Paul is my fear of being alone. It seems so unbearable to enter an empty house every single night. Fear causes all of us to make terrible decisions. Maybe I’m continuing to make mine.
I make it to my father’s place in less than two hours. The instant smile that replaces my frown takes away all of my worries and concerns about my relationship with Paul, my feelings for Mason, and my stress about what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. That’s how it is every time I come to see my dad. He truly is my shelter in a storm.
Before I leave my vehicle my dad steps onto his front porch and grins. I barrel out of the car as if I’m a little girl once again, and run straight into his wide-open arms, instantly feeling loved and secure. This is the safest place in the world.
“I’ve missed you, Dad,” I say, gratefully inhaling his woodsy scent.
“I always miss you, baby girl,” he replies in his deep, gruff voice. “Come have some coffee with me while we enjoy seeing the forest come to life.”
I reluctantly let him go and follow him inside the small cabin. His home always brings me comfort. There are only three rooms, one of which is a tiny bedroom some people would classify as a closet. It only has room for the mattress he refuses to get a bed frame for because he thinks it’s better for his back to be directly on the floor. He has no door on his tiny closet, but he doesn’t own a lot of clothes, just his favorite flannels and waterproof pants for walking in the woods. He always has nice boots because I buy him a new pair every Christmas. This place was made just for him.
The living room and kitchen combo is small and efficient with a loveseat, a comfy easy chair, and a small table with two wooden chairs. He also has a two-burner gas stove and a small refrigerator. He doesn’t have a microwave because he truly is a simple man... one of the things I find the most comfort in. Most of us go through life trying to get more and more, but not my dad. He loves big and lives free. I wish I could be as happy as he is living this way.
I watch as he brews coffee, and then we take our cups outside and sit on the most comfortable furniture in this place: two plush chairs I gave him for his birthday for the small deck we built together.
This deck is my favorite place on his property, and I want him to enjoy sitting here for hours without hurting his back. I curl my feet under me as I lean back with my cup in my hands and look into the woods, enjoying the sounds of critters beginning their day.
“Have you had any cougar sightings?” I ask with a shiver.
“Nope, not in a long time,” he assures me.
“I don’t know how you walk these woods alone. I know you’re a big guy, but it would freak me out.”
“You used to trek through these woods with me without a single fear,” he points out.
I laugh. “That was before I realized how much danger was out there.”
“You love the cabin, though.”
“I know, but that’s because there’s a door I can run through and lock if I feel danger.”
My dad chuckles. “I never lock the doors.”
“Dad, that’s foolish. You should take your safety seriously.”
He laughs again. “I don’t have much. I don’t need much, but if someone really needs something so bad they feel they have to break in, I’ll give it to them anyway.” He shrugs.
And he’d do exactly that. I wish the rest of the world could be as wonderful as my father. There’d never be any wars, or famine, or coveting. We’d all live peacefully. I feel slightly guilty about the two-hundred-dollar pair of jeans I’m wearing. At least I bought them on sale.
“I love how compassionate you are, Dad. You’ve always made me want to be a better person though I fail at this mission way too often.”
He smiles. “I have vices too, Chloe. No one’s perfect. But I think we’re all better off if we don’t judge others, and this includes ourselves. We can’t be kind and good if we’re always looking for the bad. There’s a reason things happen, and if I leave it up to whoever you believe is out there, I don’t have to let it affect me. I know it’s out of my hands. People are going to be who they are. We’re all shaped from the time we begin forming in the womb, and life teaches us lessons if we pay attention. I’m not afraid of the woods. They’re the safest places on earth. Fear holds us back. Love sets us free.”
Tears sting my eyes as I listen to my dad. He always has a way of making me feel better, not only about life, but about myself. I love him for this... among so many other reasons.
“I know I say it every time I come to visit, but I really do need to get down here more often.”
“You know you’re more than welcome anytime,” he assures me.
“I know, Dad.”
We’re quiet for several minutes because he knows I need to talk to him about something important. He doesn’t rush me, simply allows me to gather my thoughts. He’s always been this way. He knows I’ll talk to him when my thoughts are done spinning in my brain.
“Would you think I’m an awful person if I leave Paul?” I finally ask.
He doesn’t answer right away. He keeps his eyes on the trees in the distance where a family of squirrels chase each other around the sturdy branches. Two babies are trying to keep up with their parents. It’s quite endearing.
“Is he treating you badly?” Dad finally asks. Now it’s my turn to think about the words. My shoulders sag.
“Not exactly. He’s not bad to me. Things have just... changed. He doesn’t seem to want me anymore. I don’t know what happened. We were so in love for several years, and he always made me feel like I was the center of his universe. Now it seems like we never even talk, let alone do anything romantic.”
“Have you spoken to him about it?”
I sigh. “No. I’ve been too afraid to do that, afraid he wants to leave me,” I admit.
“It doesn’t sound like you want to split up,” my dad says. “First of all, there’s nothing you can do that will make me think less of you, whether anyone thinks your actions are right or wrong. No one knows why you’re choosing to decide on major decisions in your life. Second, I think you should talk to Paul. If you have feelings this strong, you need to communicate with each other. You won’t be able to solve anything by blowing things up in your mind.”
A tear falls. “I’m so confused. I don’t know why I’m unhappy.”
My dad scoots his chair a little closer and wraps a big, strong arm around me. I lean against him, letting my head fall against his chest. Taking a few deep breaths, I’m instantly calmer.
“I don’t know what’s going on in your mind or your heart, baby girl, but I do know you’ve always been a gifted child, and you have a beautiful heart. Don’t keep kicking yourself. If you’re unhappy, you have to try to figure out why. It might not have anything to do with Paul. Maybe you aren’t living your dreams, maybe there’s something else at work. Don’t give up on yourself.”
“I don’t think I’m doing that, but I don’t know.”
My dad doesn’t respond. We sit and finish our coffee as I take comfort in his embrace. My worries fall farther from the front of my mind. I’m so glad I’ve come here.
“Maybe I just needed to be here,” I say after a little while.
“Coming home is always medicine for the soul,” he assures me.
He’s absolutely correct. I know it won’t matter how old I get. Whenever I’m with my dad I feel like a little girl again, needing his protection. I truly am blessed that I can still come to him.
“Don’t ever leave me, Dad,” I say, suddenly feeling panic at the thought of not having him in my life.
He chuckles, then speaks softly. “There will come a time I’ll have to take a journey into whatever is next in life,” he warns. More tears slip down my cheeks. “But I promise you that I won’t ever leave you. I promise I’ll always be here, and even if you can’t see me, you can always talk to me.” I’m too choked up to say anything for a very long time.
“I’m going to stay for a while today.” I can’t pull myself away, don’t want to leave the safety and magic that surrounds my father.
“You can stay as long as you like. There’s no one else I’d rather be with and nowhere else I want to be,” he tells me. I love that he means this. I don’t realize until this moment that our years are already slipping away...
My trip to see my father has eased much of the grief within me. Of course it has. Coming home is the easiest thing to do. My dad makes the world a better place even if I sometimes forget this when I don’t see him for a while.
On the way back to Portland, I try calling Paul a couple of times, but he doesn’t answer. I assure myself it’s because he’s busy. But how hard is it to answer a phone? How busy can a person be?
I arrive home just before seven. This gives me plenty of time to spend an evening with Paul. I walk in the door, disappointed when I find the house empty.
I wander the rooms of a home I’d once loved so much. There’s now an emptiness in me, though, that I can’t explain. I look at the house through new eyes. None of it feels like mine. I don’t feel joy as I stop in front of a shelf that holds random knickknacks. The only thing in the home that gives me any joy, it seems, is my coveted artwork that hangs on the walls.
I pick up a glass figurine and study it. Why do I have this stuff? There’s so much clutter, so many things that don’t matter. I turn, seeing the decorations, the furniture, the colors, the... mayhem. What have I chosen in this place? What makes any of it feel like mine? Nothing but the art matters.
It’s frightening to realize I can easily walk away from everything without a care. I’m not connected to it — to any of it. Maybe my dad was right all along. Maybe the material things we hold so dear truly don’t matter.
I’ve worked since I was young, and I’ve always appreciated having a job. Earning a paycheck gives me a sense of freedom I didn’t have as a child.
I like being in a committed relationship. I’ve built a life with Paul, and when we moved to Portland together, I thought that meant forever. What I’ve come to realize over the years is when we say I love you to a partner and vow to stay together forever, we mean those words. We give our heart to that person — but sometimes life gets in the way. Sometimes people get in the way. Sometimes love fades.
I’m not sure if or when Paul stopped loving me. Maybe we stopped loving each other. I’m unsure if it’s a mutual thing, or if we’ve simply grew apart. I honestly don’t think our relationship is fixable at this point.
I slowly walk into our bedroom and run my hand along the bed we’ve shared for many years. I have no idea where he is. I could try calling him again, but he hasn’t answered all day. I shake my head. I don’t know that I want to know what it means. I do know I can’t stand around and dwell on it. This never fixes anything. I need to get busy before I start my shift at work on Tuesday.
First and foremost, I need to get laundry done. I unload my bag and carry the basket into the laundry room. I find Paul’s shirt at the bottom of the basket. An unfamiliar scent makes me pause. I hold his shirt over the washer, unable to drop it in. I stand with it clutched in my fingers for a long moment. Then I hold it out, examining it. I bring it to my face and inhale.
I can smell his sweet, spicy scent. But I can also smell perfume. It isn’t mine. I walk with it into the bathroom I share with my boyfriend and smell each bottle of perfume I have lined up on a shelf, then smell his shirt. It definitely isn’t my perfume. Does this mean anything? Do I want it to so I can forgive myself for what happened?
I feel numb right now. Just as I wanted the decision taken out of my hands when Mason was pulling me close to him, maybe that’s what I want here as well. Maybe I want Paul to be the cheater so I can be free. I don’t seem to know anything anymore.
I turn back toward the laundry room, toss his shirt into the washer, then move about the rest of the house and do what needs to be done. I’m not sure what’s going to happen with my relationship. I know something’s coming. It might change the rest of my life. Maybe in the end, a change is what we both need. Maybe we’ve been standing still for too time, and it takes a storm to push us out of our comfort zones.
Neither of us are evil people. We’re simply human with complicated feelings and emotions. We make mistakes. Does this mean either of us should be damned? No. What does it mean then? That, I honestly don’t know.
Sunday comes and goes with nothing from Paul. I start to worry more.
When Monday hits, some holiday I never think about until it means a day off, I try to keep myself busy. I clean the house from top to bottom, run through the neighborhood, take a long bath. I’m settling in for another lonely night when I hear the front door open.
I walk to the entry to see a very tired Paul stepping inside. He gives me a half smile as he tosses his bag on the floor.
“How was your weekend?” he asks.
“How was my weekend?” I ask with incredulity.
His smile fades as he stares at me in confusion. “Are you upset with me about something?” This seems like a foreign concept to him.
“You disappear all weekend, then ask me if I’m upset with you?”
“I had a work conference that’s been planned for months. You knew about this,” he tells me. He moves to the fridge and grabs a beer, looking irritated at needing to have this discussion with me.
“You didn’t tell me about a work conference,” I tell him.
He lets out a huge sigh. “It’s marked on the calendar, Chloe.”
I move over to the calendar I never look at, and sure enough, the conference is marked in small black letters. Now I feel foolish.
“Well, why couldn’t you answer your phone?” I ask, deflated.
He lets out an annoyed sigh. “We’re adults, Chloe, and don’t need to check in with each other every five minutes. I was busy all weekend. This was an important conference.”
He’s making me feel like a nagging girlfriend. Is it because of my guilt over what I did with Mason, or am I really hurt? I don’t seem to know anything anymore. I reach for him. He hesitates for a moment, then folds me into his arms. I hold on to him tightly. I don’t know why. I’m not sure what I’m hoping for. Neither of us say more as we stand together in our home that’s feeling emptier by the second.
We eventually let go of one another, and then, just like that, we separate. He heads to the bathroom to shower, and I sit in the living room and try to read a book. Why is he hitting the shower first? Does he need to wash off the scent of a woman? Why in the world aren’t we ending this? It’s becoming more complicated by the minute. I try to talk myself into packing a bag and leaving. I can’t do it yet. Soon. I assure myself I’ll do this soon.