Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
T ROY
It’s been a confusing couple of days between Shannon reacting to us having sex by actively avoiding any chance for us to talk privately and now this . The pale pink monogrammed stationery stares up at me from the tabletop as I sit back against the warm vinyl in the booth at Pat’s Diner.
I pick up the pink paper and unfold it, removing the folded-up piece of white notebook paper stuffed inside and setting it at off to the side.
Troy,
You don’t know me, but my name is Annette. I’ll cut straight to the chase. I’ve been with your father for seventeen years. We live in Pennsylvania now, just an hour outside of Ohio.
I’m writing because your father is very ill. I know you two have not had a relationship, but I wanted to update you on his condition. Also, he asked me to get the letter I’m including to you.
I’ll add my contact information, in case you’d be agreeable to meet with me or talk on the phone.
Sincerely,
Annette
The letter was waiting for me at the station when I got to work the day after Shannon was over. I must’ve read it thirty times. Yet I haven’t even unfolded the white paper that accompanied it. I can’t.
The dangling bells on the door jingle, and I look up to see it’s time to talk about it. I stand from my seat in anticipation. Feeling awkward with everything that’s been going on, I reach out my hand to offer a handshake.
Instead of taking my hand, John gives me an odd look and pulls me into a hug. When we break apart, there’s a smile on his face, but this man has been in my life for eighteen years, so the slight pinched expression doesn’t escape me.
“It’s good to see you, son. I was starting to think you were trying to avoid me.”
We both take a seat in the booth, and I look up at him and know I don’t have a good excuse. John Donley—Shannon’s dad—has been more of a father to me than my father ever was. Hell, he’s been in my life almost twice as long.
John’s not wrong. I was avoiding him, not wanting to put him in the position of feeling like continuing our relationship was somehow betraying Shannon. Plus, there is at least a part of me that wonders if I pulled away preemptively to avoid more pain when he inevitably told me we couldn’t keep up our regular breakfast since Shannon and I weren’t together.
It was when I got the letter from Annette with the accompanying letter from Doug, my father, I knew I wasn’t being fair to John by not communicating with him about what was going on with me and not answering his calls. This is exactly the kind of thing he’s helped me through over the years, and he’s the first one—besides Shannon—I wanted to talk to when I got these letters. Given that Shannon is avoiding me, I haven’t been able to tell her about it, and I’m not sure I even should anymore.
I run a hand through my hair, embarrassed at how distant I’ve been. I’ll be as direct as I can. It’s something I’ve been working on with Marissa as we work on making me a better communicator.
“I’m sorry, John. You’re right. I have been avoiding you, and it wasn’t fair of me to do that without talking to you. I didn’t want you to feel disloyal to Shannon by spending time with me, and I totally get it. She’s your daughter. I wasn’t ready yet to meet and see how different our relationship is.”
John says nothing but stares at me for several long seconds, and when he opens his mouth to speak, Flo, our server, walks up to the table. She fills both of our coffees and places her palms down on the faded laminate tabletop.
“I was starting to wonder what happened to you boys. You’re usually here every couple of weeks, and I swear it’s been at least a month. You two having your usual today?”
“Yes, ma’am for me.” John looks over to me, and I nod to indicate the same.
“Coming right up.” When Flo walks away from the table, John fixes his gaze on me again.
“Troy, you’ve been in our family for almost two decades, now. Whatever is going on with you and Shannon doesn’t change the fact I view you as a son. I know you love my daughter and those four beautiful kids of yours, and you would never do anything intentionally to hurt them. So, just because you and Shannon aren’t together doesn’t mean our relationship changes. Unless you want it to. Even then, that would make me really sad, and I’d try to talk you out of it. But know that’s the only way our relationship is changing for the worse.”
I stare down at my coffee, my throat thick with emotion, and when I try to respond, I can’t get the words out because I’m so choked up. I raise a finger to gesture to him that I need a minute. He remains quiet but taps my forearm and squeezes it for a second before letting go.
When I’ve gotten it together, I look up at him. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much that means to me. The idea of losing you and Rose on top of everything else right now is overwhelming.” I scrub both my hands over my face. This divorce is so fucking hard. “I’m sorry I stayed away.”
“It’s okay. Let’s make sure we both work hard so it doesn’t happen again. Maybe I should’ve been more aggressive and shown up at your house.” He grins at me, and I smile back.
Flo brings our food to the table, and we eat while we catch up. There’s no sense of anything being different between him and me, and I’m immensely grateful for that.
When we’re finished with our food, and our plates are cleared, just our coffee left on the table with us, I slide the pink piece of paper across the table to him.
“What’s this?” His forehead lifts toward his hairline in confusion.
“It’s a letter I received the other day from my father’s wife. Apparently, he’s very ill, and she wanted to let me know. She also included a letter from him, but I haven’t read it yet.”
John blows out a long breath. “Wow, that’s a lot.”
A sarcastic tsk escapes me. “Yeah, not really something I needed at this time in my life either. I-I wanted to see if you’d read the letter and let me know what you think. See if maybe I should talk with her or not.”
Jon nods at me and picks up the pink piece of paper, unfolds it, and reads it. A minute or so later, he folds it again and slides it across the table to me.
“Do you plan on reading the one from your father?”
“I think so. I’m not sure, though. I’m afraid it will make me feel guilty like I should go see him, and I don’t know if I wanna do that.”
“Well, first of all, you don’t need to feel any guilt regardless of what you decide to do. You were a child when he left you, and he hasn’t been in your life for almost twenty-five years. True, he did try to reach out, but it was always up to you whether or not you wanted to meet with him. I don’t mean to sound harsh, but you don’t owe him anything. If you choose to meet with him, it should be because you want to, not because you think you have to.”
His words are like a healing balm to my soul. Whether to see my father or not has been weighing heavy on me.
“The funny thing is, and you probably don’t know this because I’ve been avoiding everybody, but I’ve finally come to a place in my life where I’ve dealt with my feelings about him. I’ve been seeing a counselor. I started when Shannon asked for the divorce, and I’ve done a lot of work with her over the last few months about the trauma of my dad leaving and feeling like it was my fault.”
“I don’t care if you were the best child in the world or the worst. It was not your fault.” The certainty in his voice is validating and soothes a lingering ache in my heart I didn’t know still existed. I think this must be what it feels like to have a dad be protective of you.
“I know that, and when I became a dad, I realized it wasn’t my fault in theory, but apparently, there were still some deep-rooted emotions about it I hadn’t dealt with. I’d never do that to my kids, no matter what they did. But what I didn’t deal with was the patterns I’d developed and the feelings that have followed me through the years as a result of his rejection. I’ve done that now. It’s a process, and it hasn’t been easy work, but I’m grateful for it. I’m still seeing her to work on skill building for communication.”
“I’m proud of you, son.” The smile on John’s face tells me he one hundred percent means it.
“Thank you. I haven’t decided if I’ll see him or not, assuming he even wants to see me. I don’t want to go see him out of guilt, but I also don’t want to be the man who regrets it later. I don’t think I would, but there’s a small part of me that worries I could be wrong. I have to decide how I’m going to handle it, but in the meantime, I was kind of hoping you could do me a favor.”
Without hesitation, John nods. “Of course, anything.”
I laugh nervously. “Be careful. You never know what you might get yourself into.” I slide the white piece of paper over to him, and he looks up at me again with questioning eyes. “I was wondering if you would read the letter from him first and tell me if you think it’s okay for me to read, that it won’t set me back in how I’ve dealt with the past. I don’t expect it to be bad, but I don’t know the man, and if it’s filled with anger and blame, I don’t need that right now.”
“You sure?” John’s voice is quiet now, serious.
I nod my head, and he picks up the letter.
As he reads it over the next couple of minutes, I try not to watch him, not wanting to see changes in his expression that might tip me off about the tone of the letter. When he’s done, he folds it back up and slides it across the table to me. He’s wearing a somber look on his face.
“I don’t think there’s anything in there that will set you back. Some of it may actually help you if you still have some healing to do. But having said that, I want to reiterate that it’s okay no matter what you decide, Troy. You can take it and read it, or you can toss it in the trash on our way out of here, and that’s okay.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
We spend another forty-five minutes at the diner and when it’s time to leave, he gives me another hug, patting me on the back.
My biological father may have left me when I was only ten, but I can honestly say that for the last eighteen years, I couldn’t have asked for a better man to step into that role for me. John Donley didn’t have to treat me like a son, but he always has.