Chapter 46
Then: Michael
The sun beamed down a guided path as I trailed along Highway 2, taking the Great Northern Road trip.
I drove over the volcanic Cascade Range, climbing above sea level.
I took in all the wonders along my way.
The Columbia Plateau, the Grand Coulee Dam, and the Idaho Panhandle before climbing into western Montana.
I was on a journey to claim a life I didn’t deserve, a life I took for granted, and a life I was going to beg to get back. I didn’t need music or company on this extended trip. My regrets sat along for the journey. Soon, I would walk my daughter down the aisle and give her to a man to love and cherish her. A man much better than myself.
I rolled down the window and held my arm out, enjoying the feel of the wind.
It was early May, and everything was blooming.
I hadn’t missed it and would never take another moment for granted.
Remission was the word my oncologist said just five days ago.
I was cancer-free. And I was going to get my wife back.
I took pleasure in making this a long country road trip.
Sure, the freeways would have been faster, but I had almost a month before Monica’s wedding, and I wanted to use this time to focus on life.
I was blessed with another chance, and this time, I would slow down to appreciate everything in this life that was here for me.
Things I discarded and never saw the beauty of.
Jill was one. A young girl I used for pleasure and to feed my selfish ego. The limits I put her through, never giving her the love or desire she deserved. I wanted her back long before the cancer started. But I was too late.
It was a few years after Jill found me with Cami.
Though my business was booming, my life was spiraling downhill, and I needed to grow up.
I thought chasing the corporate dream and women would satisfy all my desires.
I was only fooling myself.
Each night, I felt empty when I put my head down to sleep.
My mind roamed back to my time with Jill and my baby girl.
I would lie awake wondering what they were doing, how they would now look, and who the lucky guy was to have Jill as his own—a woman with youth and beauty and a mature woman’s heart.
I had found that this quality was lacking in every woman I met.
But the problem wasn’t always them. I was with the female version of myself. Taking and never expecting to give. I thought since I had plenty, I would give when I chose. Only to find I had nothing because of my unwillingness to give. They say when a woman sleeps with a man, part of her soul goes with him, leaving less for the next man. But what does that say for the man who took it? Thinking he has the right to damage her for the next. I hated to think this was what I was doing, and I did it to the woman who gave me everything. The woman who saw me as perfect in her eyes, and I was far from it.
One night, I jolted up in bed, determined to get her back.
In the middle of the night, I booked a flight to Michigan and landed when the sun was rising.
I rented a car and drove around the little town, where I was once a husband and father.
I couldn’t believe how much I missed this place and the little nest Jill had made for us.
I drove past my old home, now her house, and I wanted to run inside.
I wanted to smell and touch the good memories I had there.
The memories I never knew I had until they were all gone.
I wanted to pick her up, spin her around in my arms and promise her a life of happiness and promises.
I would never break her heart again.
After the second day, she never came home.
So, I went and waited at the hospital.
There she was, leaving in her car and I followed her.
She didn’t go home.
She didn’t go to her friend Tammy or her parents. But we ended up outside of town at this farm. I pulled back, careful not to be spotted, and watched as she ran into the arms of another man. God, it hurt, and I deserved every bit of that pain. I then recognized the man as Drake Daniels. I soon discovered he had become a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine. Monica followed behind them, running down the porch steps with a slew of dogs chasing after her. After Drake held and kissed Jill, Monica jumped up in his arms, and I saw the happy family I could have had.
I drove back to my hotel and stared at the ceiling until I could no longer count another spot on the tile.
I showered, went down to Clementine’s, and ordered myself a round of bourbon.
Maybe tomorrow I would send flowers and meet her at the hospital.
I shot the bourbon down when my eyes fell on them walking in.
Oh, Jill was even prettier than the day I met her.
And she had aged to perfection.
She wore the black dress the night of my Christmas party, and I wondered if she saved it to remember me by.
But the only thing I gave her was terrible memories. The dress gave me hope. Until I watched Drake get down on one knee and ask my wife to marry him. She had gotten the proposal she had always wanted—and deserved. Jill said yes, and the two of them looked so happy. I took another shot when she came walking right towards me. Her eyes were full of tears, and for a moment, I thought there was recognition in them. I turned when she bumped into me and apologized. She hadn’t recognized me—and I had lost. I walked out and wished her the best because she deserved it.
Now, here I was, twenty years later, driving home with one last chance life had given me.
I thought back to the first day of chemo and the letter I began writing to Jill.
I poured myself into that letter with all the words I never said.
I had no idea how I would get it to her and wondered if she would even care.
Another week, more chemo, and I would add to that letter.
I was the only one there who didn’t have a spouse or friend with me.
And…that was my own fault.
An elderly lady who was scheduled for chemo on the same days befriended me and she told me of a long and wonderful life she and her husband had before he passed away five years ago.
I thought of Jill as an old lady and what she would have to talk about when it came to me. I knew what that would be.
“Let me tell you this, son,”
Ruth, my chemo companion, would say.
“Those first years of marriage are tough and sometimes not so good.
That’s because while we learn who our spouses are, we still don’t know ourselves.
And we can do a lot of damage in the process.
Let me tell you.”
She would laugh, and it would shine a little light on our dark days.
I thought I knew it all as a young man, but I didn’t know anything next to Ruth.
Her talks and tiny pearls of wisdom helped me craft my letter to Jill, especially regarding love.
She asked me once if I had any children.
I didn’t know how to respond. Monica was now in college, and I hadn’t seen or spoken to her since she was three. I wanted to talk about her. Show her pictures of my beautiful daughter, but I had none. And then I thought about the photographs I destroyed.
I began to cry when my phone pinged.
I hoped it was the jet center, looking for an excuse to hide my shame.
It was a miracle, and when I looked up at Ruth, she smiled and pointed to my phone.
“I bet that’s her.”
How she would have known will always be a mystery.
It was a friend request from Monica Danforth.
My daughter wanted to meet me.
At that moment, I had someone honest in my life.
I accepted and read her message.
Hi, Dad.
In case you don’t recognize me, I’m your daughter.
I don’t remember much about you or that you and Mom were married.
I’m in college now and hope to meet you this summer.
I don’t want anything, so don’t worry if I’m asking for money. I want to meet you.
Your daughter, Monica Danforth.
My fingers trembled as I accepted and messaged her back.
As soon as I accepted her, I was able to open and look at all her pictures.
Years and years I had missed.
She was beautiful, just like her mother.
And then, there she was; Jill. The two of them on a beach having a mom and me day, the caption said. Jill was still so young looking, and the two of them looked like sisters.
I scrolled through more and smiled at all the silly Jill and Monica together pictures.
They had gone on, were happy and I wished I was part of it.
There was no mention of a stepfather, Drake.
Nothing in her post or pictures suggested Jill had remarried.
I messaged her back and asked how soon she could come and that I would pay all her expenses.
“Here’s my daughter,”
I said, showing Ruth the pictures.
“She’s coming to see me.”
My words had all the proudness of a father, and for once, I felt something I had been missing all my life—belonging.
“She’s gorgeous,”
Ruth said.
“Yes, she sure is.
Just like her mother.”
“Are you two no longer together?”
I shook my head.
“Oh, what a shame.”
“It sure is.
But if I had the chance…”
I looked up at my chemo drip, now almost empty and silently prayed.
“I’m going to get her back.”
“Good for you,”
she said and patted my hand.
I was still in my chemo treatment when Monica came to visit.
The thought went through my mind of having her come after my chemo was over.
But I had wasted enough years of not seeing my daughter.
I couldn’t believe my eyes when she stepped off the plane.
Like she always knew me, she ran into my arms with a big hug.
“Hi, Dad.
It’s good to see you.
How’ve you been?”
“We’ll talk about me later.
I want to hear everything about you.”
Maybe I would not tell her about the cancer.
She told me all about college and her boyfriend, Jordan.
The years she was growing up in Michigan with her mom.
“Mom never remarried,”
she said out of the blue.
“I thought I heard once she was engaged.”
I wanted to know what happened.
But Monica said she didn’t know.
She told me she loved the man and he was kind to her and Jill but never knew what happened.
I let it rest there, but later, I would ask more questions.
The week turned into a few more weeks, and I hated to see her go.
That’s when I told her about the cancer.
After that, she stayed all summer and cared for me, taking me to treatments and holding my hand.
She met Ruth, and the two of them talked of young life and old life.
I could see so much of Jill in her. I had indeed been blessed with a wonderful daughter. And I had left her behind.
By the end of summer, she had to get back to school, and we made a pact: I would live to walk her down the aisle.
She said, “Dad, you’ll live to do a lot more.”
I kissed her before she boarded the plane, and I made her promise not to tell Jill.
I wanted to do it my way.
I wanted Jill to fall in love with me—the new me.
Ruth had passed away before I left for Michigan.
I attended her funeral and met her wonderful family.
When I was handed a book at the funeral, I asked what it was for.
Her daughter asked if my name was Michael Danforth.
I told her it was.
“My mother instructed this cookbook to be given to you.
I’m not really sure why.
I’m just granting her last wish.”
“Thank you,”
I said.
When I opened the book, there was a spot marked with a note.
Son, when you get your wife back, make her this plum pot roast.
There’s nothing a pot roast can’t fix.
Take care.
Love, Ruth.
And so there I was, heading down Highway 2 in my Toyota 4Runner—no more little boy toys.
I popped in my go-to-song, rolled down the windows and sang at the top of my lungs, ‘All in’ with Lifehouse.
Because this time, I was all in.
I only hoped she would take me back.