Chapter 34 Miller - The Book of Advice by Melanie LeClair
Ihaven’t heard from Gwen in three days, and I’m starting to think giving her space was about the dumbest fucking thing I could have done.
Okay, not completely true. She’s called every night to wish Penelope goodnight.
She just doesn’t really have much to say to me.
I don’t press her. I’m the one who told her to take her time.
I know she’s been to the apartment because Ladybug had new treats and toys stocked up that I know I didn’t buy. That has to be a good sign, right?
But, fuck I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing else I could say that could convince Gwen this is it. We found what we were looking for, and we deserve it. Both of us.
So, here I am being smacked in the face with the strong smell of chlorine as I walk into Hopeford’s community pool center.
I dropped Penelope off at Margot’s this afternoon so they could do whatever it is that nieces and aunts do together, and I drove the hour out here.
I spot Melanie LeClair wrapping up her class as she waves to me.
I wave back and take a seat in the bleachers.
I need to get Penelope into swim. Maybe I could pay Melanie to do private lessons or something over the summer. Water safety is important. I watch Melanie gather all of the kids to do one last jump in the pool before dismissing them and grabbing a towel to dry off and head over to me.
“Hi honey, I’m so happy you made it out!” Melanie calls.
“Hey Mel.” I lean in for a quick one-armed hug to avoid getting soaked.
“Walk with me to my office?” she offers.
We walk down the short hallway that leads to her office. The desk is covered in paperwork, picture frames, and seashells. There’s a giant mural of the ocean covering the wall behind her desk. Melanie must notice me inspecting it.
“Margot painted that in high school,” she tells me.
“I didn’t know Margot was into art.”
“Eh, she’s not. Well, not this medium at least. The photography has stuck, but my girl has gone through many phases in her life. This was one of them. Do you paint?”
I laugh. “No. Definitely wouldn’t be able to put together anything that made sense.”
She tries to reassure me. “I don’t believe that. Everyone can mix colors together to make something beautiful.”
“And when you can’t make out which color is which?” I ask.
“Miller, honey, are you colorblind?” Melanie asks, wrapping the towel around her waist to sit down. She gestures for me to do the same on the other side of her desk.
“It’s called Protanopia. I can’t see reds for shit.
I didn’t get the official diagnosis until I was older because my parents never bothered, but the school nurse clocked it pretty early on.
It really doesn’t affect my day to day life dealing with numbers and computers and all.
P has a freaking field day with it though. ”
“Can’t see reds, huh?” Melanie eyes me with a brow raised.
Never Red. Just Gwendolyn. “Ironic, I know. Speaking of…” I start.
“I know why you’re here, Miller.”
“Hey, I also came by to to check out the place and because I miss you.” Both are true. I’ve never had a motherly figure like Melanie. “But, yeah. Gwen,” I sigh.
“Margot doesn’t fill me in nearly enough, you’re going to have to catch me up to speed.”
So that’s exactly what I do. I recap the last six months, from admiring Gwen from afar when she didn’t even know my name to the other day when I basically gave her my heart on a fucking platter.
Melanie doesn’t interrupt. She nods and waits patiently for me to get everything out.
My throat feels hoarse by the end of it.
“You’re not going to like what I have to say,” she admits.
“I’m clueless, Mel. Fucking stuck with this fear that I had it all, and I’m about to lose it. Penelope, too. I can’t even think about that.”
She puffs out a short breath. “The ball is in her court, Miller. Like you said, you laid it all out there and told her she needed to ruminate on it. That’s exactly what she’s doing. You have to be patient.”
“But what if she doesn’t come back?” I sound desperate. I am.
She reaches across the desk and takes my hand in her own.
There’s a soft smile on her face. It’s comforting in a way I haven’t experienced.
“Faith and trust, hon. Everything’s going to work out just fine.
Your Gwen didn’t go anywhere. She just needs some time to sort herself out.
You’re one of the good ones, honey. She knows that. ”
“I just want her to choose me. Choose us. Not out of obligation or anything, but because she sees what I see, you know?”
Melanie LeClair has the ability to make anyone comfortable to the point where they’ll spill their guts. Clearly I’m not immune to the spell.
She shakes her head like I’m missing something.
“That girl has been choosing the two of you for quite some time now. Does Red have an issue with boundaries and saying no, extending herself to the point of exhaustion? Yes.” Melanie sighs and clasps her hands together.
“But that’s not even close to what’s happening here.
It might be hard for you to see, and it’s not your fault, but how she shows up for you is unconditional love in its purest form.
It all started with that little apartment she offered you with no strings attached. ”
“You think so?” I ask apprehensively.
“I know so, Miller.”
“Margot was lucky to get you out of the parenting deal.” It’s something I’ve thought about for a while. I’m not bitter about it, because things really did turn out okay, but it comes out a little off, and I immediately wish I could take it back.
“Oh, Miller. If I knew…There are a lot of things I wish I had done differently. I hoped so deeply that Michael would be different for you, and I’m so sorry he wasn’t. You deserved better. I know it doesn’t make up for the past, but I’m so incredibly honored to be here for you and Penelope now.”
“That sounded bad, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it except that you really are great. I’m grateful to have you, Mel. I’m serious.”
“Always. And I mean that. There’s no getting rid of me now.
Just ask Margot,” she jokes. Melanie stands and walks over to the little bar cart she has set up with a coffee maker.
“It’s not as good as anything served up at Red’s, but you want one?
” She plucks a pod into the compartment and the machine whizzes to life.
“I won’t say no to that.” I ring my hands together, twirling my ring around nervously. “Umm…Do you think I could ask you something?”
It’s been bothering me basically my whole life. I never had anyone to talk about it with because there was never anyone who could truly get it.
“Of course,” she says with concern.
“Am I like him?” I let the question hang and then follow it up with, “Could I be like him?”
It takes no time for Melanie to register who I’m talking about. She freezes, and her face becomes stern. It’s kind of fucking terrifying. “No.”
The only sound in the room is the drip of the coffee into the mug.
“You have his eyes, as does Margot, as does Penelope, as will most likely any future children the two of you have because for some damn reason those genes are strong. But all similarities stop there. You’re everything I think he wishes deep down he could but never will be.
” Melanie clears her throat. I look up to meet her eyes and see she’s getting emotional.
“Michael is a poor excuse for a human being and an even worse example of a father. I will not sugarcoat that. I do not forgive or forget the hurt he has caused so many of us.” Melanie walks towards me and places her hand on my shoulder to squeeze.
“Your mother included. But he gave me Margot. She has always been my dream come true, my loudest happy, as she would say. And now we have you and Penelope. I think, and I hope you’ll agree, it’s time we leave him to his own devices, in the past.”
A weight that felt permanent until right now lifts from my chest.
Melanie and I spend the next hour or so drinking our coffees and catching up on less heavy subjects.
She gives me a tour of the community center, walking me through the years she’s spent getting this place to what it is now.
Mel admits she feels like more of her heart is in Merrymount now than here.
I tell her it’s not the worst place she could relocate to.
I fully intend on taking Melanie’s advice to leave my father and everything that comes with being raised by him in the past. I just have to make this one stop first.
When Margot texted me asking me to keep myself busy for an extra couple hours, I didn’t question it. I’m sure she and P are having fun doing some project together or something. But I have nothing in Merrymount to keep myself busy that doesn’t remind me of Gwen, so I wound up here.
I parked across the street, and I’m leaning against my car with my arms crossed over my chest, staring at the house of horrors I grew up in.
The lawn looks like fucking shit, per usual.
It’s riddled with empty beer cans and grass that’s taller than Penelope, folded over and dead from years of neglect.
The garage door is definitely broken, stuck slightly ajar at an angle. You can see a glimpse into the space, filled with useless junk and trash, no room for the two cars it’s supposed to be able to fit.
Speaking of cars, it looks like dear ole dad didn’t even bother shutting the driver’s door of his rusted beater of a truck before calling it a night last night after he parked it crooked in the driveway.
Dents that I’m sure appeared after he drunkenly smashed into God knows what cover too many spots for him to still have the ability to hold a driver’s license.
Not a fucking thing has changed.
I mean, I didn’t think it would. I had zero expectations of things looking even remotely better when I questioned over and over again why I had to do this on my way here. I still don’t have the answer for that, but I’m here regardless.
There’s no shot he gives a shit about someone hanging outside, so I’ll have to go to the door. I’ll probably have to bang on it to the breaking point for him to even register someone’s trying to get his attention from the outside.
But imagine the shock on my face when I cross the street, climb the porch steps, and raise my fist to begin knocking, just for the door to fly open.
My father, Michael Caswell, stands at my eye level, squinting at the light of day. He’s staring at me like he’s hallucinating, and I probably look like I might throw up.
“What the fuck do you want?” he sneers. I can smell the alcohol on his breath.
“Excellent way to greet your son after over five years of no contact. Hey, Dad.”
“You’re lucky I don’t bash you upside the head. I’ll ask you again before I slam this door in your face. What the fuck do you want, Miller?”
I’ll admit a part of me, the smallest, most minuscule part, kind of hoped he would have been a little remorseful. Maybe he could have wanted to know anything about how I’m doing, or at least his granddaughter. But, this is reality.
“I wanted a better father—” He moves to whip the door shut, but my palm connects with it to keep it open. “No, you’re gonna listen to this.”
He grunts. I start again, letting my heart do all of the talking because my brain couldn’t put two thoughts together if it tried right now.
“I wanted a better father, so I became one. I used to sit up late at night and wonder how you could hate your kid so fucking much. I thought about what I could have done wrong. And now that I have one of my own, I question it even more. Do you know how easy it is to love her? Easier than breathing, I’ll tell you that. ”
I’m shaking, but I take a breath and continue, “And then I found Margot.” I watch the shock and recognition register on his face.
“And Melanie,” I add for good measure. “They make love and family look easy. They took us in as their own and haven’t wavered since.
And I realized it was never me. It was never about fatherhood or being a parent in general.
You’re just a piece of shit. And hey, maybe a little bit of that rubbed off on me too, because I’m only here to tell you that to your face. ”
He lunges, but it’s sluggish, and I dodge with time to spare.
“You think you’re better than me?” he spits.
“No, I know I am. Look.” I gesture around us.
“Look at the world you live in, Dad. I got out. I wish Mom did too, but I can’t change that, just like I can’t change you.
But, I’m going home to people who love me.
I have purpose. I wish that I wished you’d find that, but I lost that hope a long time ago.
I am who I am despite you, and I’m finally proud of that. ”
I walk backwards down the steps and begin the journey down the walkway back to my car. He doesn’t follow but stands as still as a statue on the porch, watching me.
“Are you happy?” my dad calls with malice in his voice.
I get in my car, start it, and roll the window down to answer him one last time. “Happier than you could ever imagine.”
Letting that truth out makes the journey back to Merrymount so much lighter.
I keep the windows cracked to let the crisp January air bite my face as I put everything together in my head about where things go from here with Gwen and Penelope.
And the cat, I add. I take a page out of Melanie’s book of sage wisdom and advice and remind myself that everything has a way of working out.
And for once in my life, it’s going to. In my favor.