Thirty-One #2
I nod. “After that, I felt stuck in the middle. Not by you,” I tell my mom quietly, wondering if I ever should’ve brought
this up. “But, Dad, I know you needed help here. And I was happy to give it, but sometimes it felt... heavy.” Queasy with
nerves, I lean against the counter.
But Dad doesn’t look hurt or upset. He rubs a hand over his graying hair, a gesture I recognize as my own.
“I put a lot of weight on your shoulders,” he says.
“Trust me, I know. I should’ve realized sooner, especially with you not wanting to work with me.
But I always thought it was rebellion or something.
” He looks at me and grins. “Ridiculous, since you never even missed curfew. Scott’s more rebellious than you are, and that’s not saying much. ”
“I missed curfew once.” I smile, the tightness in my chest easing a notch.
“To drive your friend home when he got a flat,” my dad says, shaking his head. “The point is, I looked to you for the cause
of it, when I should’ve been looking at myself. I spent so long thinking about what I’d lost when your mom left that I didn’t
look at what I had.”
I dart a look at my mother, but she’s listening with a small smile on her face, and my dad continues. “I leaned on you for
support, but I never appreciated you. Not as a son, or a friend.” He shoves his sleeves up. “Didn’t realize until I got a
few friends of my own who talked some sense into me that things between us had been one-sided for a long time. I expected
you to come out here for visits and never once stopped by your place. I knew next to nothing about what you did for fun, or
the life you’ve made in Illinois. I’d stopped asking questions, and when you stopped coming around, instead of reaching out,
I got bitter.”
“That’s when he got the smoker,” my mom chimes in.
He laughs, a hoarse chuckle. “That’s when I started smoking meat, yeah. Sounds silly, but it was a hobby. And I started looking
for tips, found an online group for people new to it. Turns out several of them live close by.”
I feel like maybe I should warn him about the dangers of sharing personal information with strangers online, but he’s moved
on. “I made friends, is what I’m saying. Do you know how long it had been since I had friends?” He points at me. “Don’t answer
that.”
I grin. “So you don’t need me anymore?” I hadn’t been wrong. He’d stopped relying on me, just like I wanted, but it makes me feel hollow somehow.
He shakes his head. “You’re my son. I’ll always need you in my life. But I don’t want you to feel like you need to hold me
up. I’m not that old yet,” he says, and grins. “What I want to do is get to know you.”
“That’s why you’re moving to Colorado?” The sarcastic reply has me feeling like a snippy teenager and I half expect Dad to
call me out on it, but while Mom gives me a sharp look, he just shakes his head.
“I’m moving out there for now, but I’m not sure where I’ll end up. I’m retiring because I realized there’s a lot I haven’t
had time to do. One of those things is visit you. Haven’t even seen your house yet. And you and Scott are always going to
baseball games. That sounds fun. I haven’t made it to a game since your high school days.”
“Fun?” I can’t believe this. “You’re retiring because you want to have fun?”
“Why else?”
“I dunno. Duty, I thought. He said you wanted to be near the grandkids.”
“You think I spend time with Pax and Brett because I have to?” His brow wrinkles like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.
“I happen to like my grandchildren, son. And Scott. And you,” he adds. “I’ve just done a measly job of showing it.”
“Not always,” I tell him. He’s been a great dad in so many ways, and I don’t want him selling himself short. “I have so many
great memories here. With both of you.” I smile at them. “But I’ve made my own home. That’s the real reason why I don’t want
to move back and run the business. I love the life I’ve built, and I don’t want to leave it behind.” My throat gets tight.
Mia used to be a part of that life. Am I really willing to give her up just because she’ll never love me back?
“Good,” my dad says, catching me off guard. He grins at Mom. “Because we’re counting on the money from the sale of this place to retire.”
“We?” I turn to her. She teaches college classes as well as her role in managing the company. “You’re retiring, too?”
But she shakes her head. “Not from teaching, but I won’t miss having to split my time.”
This is a lot to process, and I realize in avoiding discussing my feelings, I’ve missed out on a lot of their lives, too.
A thought strikes me. “Not moving to Denver, are you?”
A pause. “What?” She laughs. “No. But, honey, I know you say you’re happy, and that there’s no future for you and Mia, but
I can’t help but think of how she’s been a constant presence in your life. Has that really changed overnight?”
So much did change for us this summer, and while for me it had been a long time coming, it was something Mia had been avoiding
for years. “She made up her mind and gave me an ultimatum. Friendship or nothing. I don’t want nothing, but I’ve tried for
years to pretend I’m not in love with her, and I’m not sure I can anymore, or that I even want to.”
The coffeepot beeps, and Mom pours some for herself. “Then don’t give up without giving it your all. Take your father’s advice.
Tell her you love her. It’s the one thing left unspoken between you two.”
It is, isn’t it? We talk about what makes us happy and gets us mad, about our families and our dreams and what’s disappointed
us. But in all of that, I never said three words that could change everything. Will it make a difference? I don’t know. But
I have to try.
I can’t let Mia go without telling her I’m in love with her. Try to show her one last time that we’re not losing anything
being together. We have everything to gain.