Chapter 12 #2
His face brightens. “I remember the day you were born.
I had no idea the best adventure of my life would be making a family with your mother, and for years it was only you, me, and her.
You two travelled with me to all my matches.
It was brilliant. I loved parading you in front of my teammates and bragging about how you were going to put all their stats to shame someday.
Your mother and I had so many dreams for you, Gareth. So many hopes.
“But when she got sick, I lost all hope. I lost myself. My body didn’t know how to function without her.
We were always a partnership. Fifty-fifty.
But the moment she became ill was the moment I felt half of myself disappear.
I couldn’t even look in the mirror because I didn’t want to see what I was without her.
I hated her for leaving me, and I hated myself for hating her. It was a sick cycle I couldn’t escape.”
My heart pounds hard and heavy in my chest over his words. Words that I can actually sympathise with, which is an odd feeling for someone who’s dedicated his entire life to outdoing the person speaking.
My voice is hoarse when I reply, “I wish you would have talked to me, Dad. You’ve never acknowledged any of this. You just fucking disappeared. I was a kid and we needed you. We needed help.”
His face twists in pain and he nods stiffly. “You’re right. I know you’re right. But your mother was so independent. She never wanted to live like we had a lot of money, and she wouldn’t dream of hiring a nanny. Not even when the twins were born and you know how wild those two were.
“I thought I was doing the right thing by refusing help. The Harris family only needed each other, you know? We were like a self-sustaining island. That’s why I was so upset when you signed with Man U and moved away.
You abandoned the island and I hated it.
It’s also why I pushed the twins and Booker to continue living at home and let me manage their careers so tightly.
And why I bought Vi a flat in East London.
I could see her getting restless, and I didn’t want her to move as far away as you did.
I didn’t want to lose any more of my family. ”
I shift uncomfortably as I think back to how angry my father was when I told him I signed with Man U without his consent.
It was one of our worst fights to date. The only fight he ever put his hands on me.
I thought it was because he didn’t want to lose me on his team.
I never imagined it was because he wanted to keep me close.
“I honestly don’t know what to say,” I admit with a heavy sigh. “For years now, I’ve been trying to do better than you. Be a better father figure, a better footballer, a better person.”
Dad’s eyes turn red around the edges. “Gareth, you don’t have to try. You’ve already achieved those goals. The incredible family we have is all because of you. You and Vi. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, son.”
“I don’t know if I believe that,” I scoff disbelievingly.
Dad turns and reaches out to put a hand on my shoulder. My knee-jerk reaction is to wince at the tender touch, but I clench my teeth and accept it for what it is.
An olive branch.
“You must believe it, Gareth. This family is more yours than mine, and it always will be. I’m just hopeful you’ll still let me be a part of it.”
I nod somberly, my head dropping down as I rub my hands together. “I think it’d be nice for the boys and Vi to see the real you.”
A small smile lifts his face. “I’m only sorry it took twenty-five years for him to come back.”
My body grows a newfound sense of calmness that I’ve never felt before.
This conversation has been more impactful than I could have ever imagined.
I’m actually shocked by how much I understand my father better now.
The man was dying from a broken heart and doing the best he could under the circumstances.
Sloan and I aren’t nearly as connected as my mum and dad were, but the thought of losing her after everything we’ve gone through together terrifies me.
She is a part of me as much as anyone has ever been.
Perhaps she’s the reason I understand my father’s position a bit more now.
“You’re the glue, Gareth. You always have been. You are exactly like your mother in that way.”
His mention of Mum brings her face to the forefront of my mind. Her smile. Her eyes. Her hair. Her touch.
Mostly her touch.
She was always wonderful. And she loved my father, even in the end. If she could forgive him, so should I.
“She was a great mum,” I croak, tears sliding freely down my face.
“The best,” Dad replies, swiping at his own tears. “And you’ll be a great dad because you’re just like her.”
His comment has my head turning to look at him. “I’m a ways off from being a dad, don’t you think?”
He shakes his head. “I’m in no position to give you advice, Gareth. But I do wonder if during your pursuit of being better than me, you might be ignoring your own path.”
My brows knit together as I try to make sense of his last statement. “What the bloody hell do you mean by that?”
He smiles knowingly and replies like what he’s stating is one hundred percent factual and there’s not a shred of doubt in his mind. “You love her, Gareth. You may not know it yet, but I do.”