Chapter 28
We take a break, both drying our tears, taking some deep breaths.
And then we talk. The camera’s back on, recording, and we cover things in detail.
How lonely he was for years and years, since his childhood.
He speaks about his parents, my grandparents, for the first time.
I never met them, but he tells me how distant they were, how little he saw them after he moved to Scotland, how rarely they called one another.
Distance, again. Though it sounds like they had their share of problems before, distance surely exacerbated their issues.
I wonder, if I had grown up near my father, if we’d never left, or if he’d come with us, would our relationship have ended up in the same place? Would it have been slightly better?
I’ll never know, but he seems to think it played a role. And I do too.
A sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach, but I suppress it, focusing back on the interview.
He’s more open now that we’ve chiseled at the block between us, and he shares his first impression of Maggie.
That she was magnetic, charming, unabashedly herself, making jokes with the nurses, even though there was a steady undercurrent of worry in her voice, of fear.
He understood those aspects of her first, was drawn to them, but it was friendship that grew between them.
It took a couple years before it became anything more.
I smile, already imagining how I’ll splice this footage together, a bit from Maggie, a bit from my father, their stories overlapping, mixed with some of the footage I took of our trip: scenery of the Highlands, the sheep, our car breaking down. I can see the entire pitch coming together in my mind.
We’re on our last question when the scent of biryani travels our way, warm and fragrant.
“Smells like it’s ready,” I say, turning off the recording, and the two of us head into the dining room, where Jacob’s already begun to serve the plates.
“All done?” he asks. He’s not wearing my favorite cardigan today, just a button-down shirt, but he’s rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, and I watch as he ladles rice out of the large dish in the center of the table.
“Yes,” my father says, then turns to me. “Unless you wanted to ask both of us questions together?”
“I do,” I say. “But we can do it after we eat.”
Jacob passes me one of the plates, the steam from the rice fogging up his new glasses. “Thanks,” I tell him, and his fingers slide against mine, the faintest caress, before he leaves my plate in my hand.
“And thanks to both of you,” I tell my father and Maggie. “For being open to doing this.”
“Of course,” Maggie says, grinning. “It was fun.”
Over dinner we talk about their time in Skye, how Jacob’s preparation for the semester is going, and when filming for the next season of Love in the Sun is supposed to start.
“So, how are you both feeling about the wedding now that it’s only a couple days away?” Jacob asks.
Maggie lets out a laugh. “I can’t believe it’s so soon.” She smiles at me. “We can’t thank both of you enough. It’s been so nice not having to do any of the planning this time around.”
“It’s the least I could do,” I say.
My father clears his throat. “The park you sent, it looks nice.”
“It is,” Jacob says. “It’s beautiful. Hope you don’t mind we’re just doing dinner at the pub after. I know you said simple, but maybe that’s too simple?”
Maggie shakes her head. “No, that’s perfect. Exactly what we wanted.”
“I don’t know,” Jacob says, his expression warm. “If I had the option of eloping in Skye, like you did, I’d probably have taken it.”
And an image jumps in my mind. Jacob in a tux, at an altar. His brown eyes shining behind his glasses.
I take a sip of my water, feeling a little lightheaded.
“But then we wouldn’t be able to do it with you two,” Maggie says. “And that’s what we really want. We want it to just be family.”
She says it so simply, with a smile, but I hear the small note of pain in her voice, the grief that’s present even with her joy. My father watches her, his gaze tender, caring.
We continue eating, but it takes me some time to process. It’s only after we’re done, after we take our plates into the kitchen and head back into the living room to film one last time, that I realize what Maggie said.
This entire time, I’ve considered the three of them a trio, a family they created, one stronger than the blood that connects my father and me. But tonight, Maggie referred to me as part of it, and it didn’t stand out to me. It didn’t feel groundbreaking or sudden.
It just felt true.
—
Maggie and my father settle on the couch, and I adjust the camera slightly, making sure they’re both in view.
“Is it okay if I watch?” Jacob asks. He’s lingering in the doorway, uncertain.
I wave him inside. “Of course.” I glance at Maggie and my father. “That is, if it’s okay with you?”
They agree, and Jacob stands to the side, out of frame.
“You want to come behind the camera?
He nods, moving in that direction, and I take a seat on the chair in front of the couch. “Let’s start with how the two of you met.”
My dad hesitates, looking over at Maggie, then at me. And then he raises his hand.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say with a smile. “You can just talk. Like before.”
Maggie laughs, and my father ducks his head. “Sorry.”
“No,” I say. “You’re doing great. Did you want to start? Or do you want me to try a different question?”
“I can start,” he says. And then he walks us through their story. I’ve heard it now from almost every perspective, but new details emerge with the two of them together. Maggie leans over, interjecting every now and then, and it’s fun to see each of them react to something the other said.
My dad recalls exactly what color sweater Maggie was wearing in the waiting room of the hospital the first time he saw her, and Maggie turns to him, surprised.
“I wear it all the time and you’ve never told me that. I had no idea I was wearing it that day.”
He shrugs. “It never came up. But it’s a nice color on you.”
Her face softens. “Thanks,” she says.
The two of them, together—they’re magic on-screen.
There’s a natural rhythm to their conversation, and my father’s more relaxed on camera with Maggie by his side.
She pulls something out of him, an ease that he didn’t have before, and soon they’re both telling stories.
About their first date, their fifth, their tenth.
They recount the story of their proposal, which I’ve heard from Jacob, but it’s different through their eyes. My father tells his piece, how he felt being wheeled into surgery, how he knew he wanted to wake up to see Maggie. How he wanted to wake up seeing her every day.
And Maggie has to wipe her eyes, a tear falling as she talks about how scared she was that day. How that was the moment she knew she wanted to spend whatever time they had left, together.
I repeat a couple questions I asked them individually, and then I’m done. There’s so much footage from tonight, but I know this is the interview I’ll really end up using.
I’m about to call it a wrap when I peek back at Jacob. He’s watching through the camera screen, his brow furrowed, his teeth pulling on his bottom lip.
“Hey,” I say.
He blinks, his spine straightening.
And I don’t know what makes me ask it—some strange intuition, a subconscious read of his body language. “Do you have any questions you want to ask?”
“Is that—would that be okay?”
“Yeah,” I say. “If you want to.” I stand up, offering him my chair. “Floor’s yours.”
Maggie and my father watch our exchange, and Jacob and I switch spots. I check the camera, making sure it’s still rolling.
“I wanted to ask—” Jacob leans forward, his hands on his knees. “I wanted to know how, or when, you realized that how you felt for each other—how you knew it was love.”
My breath catches. It’s a good question. One I should probably add to my rotation, but…is there a reason he’s asking this?
I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.
My father’s quiet, thinking, but after a long moment, he shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he says. “I just knew it was.”
Maggie watches Jacob, and I see her through the screen. Caring, but protective. Incredibly maternal. But there’s something else there too. It’s more than approval. It’s as if she’s…proud of him.
“It’s different for every person,” she says.
“But at least for us, it didn’t happen all at once.
It took time. And for me, I knew, but it took me a while to say it.
” She smiles at my father, squeezing his hand.
“I loved you for a long time, but I had to admit it to myself first. And that was hard. I had to work through a lot of my own fears before I could realize the truth. Before I could tell you how much I loved you.”
Jacob doesn’t say anything, and Maggie tilts her head. “Does that—I don’t know if that fully answered your question. But if you have any others for us—”
“No,” he says. He’s facing away from me, and I’m desperate to see his expression, to see how Maggie’s words landed. “That was great. I’m all done.”
I switch off the camera and begin packing up my things. My hands are calm, steady, but inside I’m a riot of emotion.
What prompted that from him? Could he possibly, does he maybe—
“When do you head back?” Maggie asks me. “I don’t think we ever got the exact date from you.”
“In three days,” I say.
“You were able to rebook everything?” my father asks. “The airline didn’t give you a hard time?”
I collapse the tripod, standing and tucking it under my arm. “No. It was simple. I got the confirmation about the flight last night, actually. It’s all set.”
At that, Jacob’s head snaps in my direction. His attention focused entirely on me.
My stomach twists.
I haven’t had a chance to tell him yet, but the date isn’t a surprise. I always planned on going home at the end of our agreed-upon two-week period.
Jacob’s face clears, but I still feel uneasy.
We say our goodbyes to Maggie and my father, saying we’ll see them the day after tomorrow for the wedding. And then we stagger our exits as previously planned.
When Jacob and I meet back up at the end of the street, we don’t say much of anything. We walk in silence back to his flat, the night air cool, but halfway there he takes hold of my hand, and our fingers intertwine.