Chapter 30 - Tanner
TANNER
Iwake up absolutely refreshed the next morning.
I tiptoe out of bed so I don’t wake Des.
The first thing I do is email my future employer to tell them things have changed and I won’t be accepting their offer.
My family needs me. Old me would’ve felt bad about leaving them in the lurch, but after getting unceremoniously let go, I now know loyalty is non-existent in corporate America.
I tiptoe into the kitchen and toast two Pop Tarts. You never realize how hard things have been until you’re through them. It feels like I’ve been in crisis mode for the past two years, and finally, I can breathe.
I take the Pop Tarts upstairs and knock on Lena’s door.
When she was little, she’d lay in bed for a good thirty minutes.
She wouldn’t let us get her. She wanted to talk with her stuffed animals alone.
I’d listen on the baby monitor, chuckling at her conversations, my heart full with gratitude that this little person was in my life.
Of course, parent life is always a dream when you have one kid. But as more kids got added to the mix, I had less time to enjoy those little moments.
She’s sprawled across her bed, a tangle of spaghetti-like arms and legs. Lena picks her head up, flutters her eyes open.
“Morning,” I say. I sit at the edge of her bed. “I brought you some breakfast. Do you remember how you and I would eat a Pop Tart together before you went to preschool?”
Lena rubs sleep from her eyes, her hair all asunder. “No. We did that?”
“Yeah. You were four. We’d toast them like champagne glasses and wish each other a good day.”
“I don’t remember that.”
It’s the blessing and curse of parenting: millions of little moments get lost to time. All the tantrums and yelling “no,” but also all of those tiny golden morsels in between. They all get washed away.
“We need to talk, Lena.”
“Is everything okay?” Her eyes bolt open. I can see that she, too, has been living in crisis mode.
I rub her hand, feel the bump of her knuckles.
“When we lost your mom, I tried to step up. Everything your mom did, I could do. I told myself I could handle all the talks, all the lunches, remember all the school things. I didn’t want you all to feel her absence more than you would.
But along the way, I started to rely on you.
I needed help, but I didn’t want to admit it. ”
“It’s okay, Dad.”
“No, it’s not.” I fight back tears that insistently spill down my face.
“I wasn’t fair to you. Asking you to babysit your brothers and sister all the time.
Making you become an adult way too soon.
Yes, as the oldest, there is an expectation on you to help out more.
That’s just the price of birth order. But I overstepped.
You’re still a kid. I hate that you had to grow up fast, that I put that on you.
We never talked enough about how you’re doing.
You always put on such a good front. I never questioned it. ”
There’s no parenting manual. No coach who can watch me play and give me instant feedback. I never know if I’m doing things the right way. I wish parenting could be an exam with actual right answers, and if I did something wrong, it would get circled in red ink and I’d know for next time.
Parenting is easy. Good parenting is hard.
I push tears off my cheeks. More come.
“It’s not your fault, Dad. You couldn’t help what happened. Did Des tell you…”
“He told me that maybe you weren’t doing as fine as you present. But I should’ve seen that. I’m so sorry that I didn’t see that.”
“I’m okay, Dad.”
“You don’t have to be okay, though. If you’re scared or upset or angry or lost or confused, you can come to me.
Please don’t feel like you have to put on a brave face.
I want to help you. I want to hear about what’s going on in your life, even though I know as a teenager, you won’t tell me. But know that you can.”
“You just assume everything is fine with me. You never ask.”
“I’m so sorry. I’ll do better.” The sad part is that even if I do better, I won’t forget this moment. I won’t forget how I let my little girl down, how I wasn’t there for her like I should’ve been. And she’ll tell me that it’s fine, that I did the best I could, but still, I won’t forget.
She nods, her lips slightly pouted. Sometimes, I miss when kids were younger. Small people, small problems. But having emotionally complex kids means we get to have these interesting, deep conversations.
“There are so many things I’d do differently. Number one: tell your mom to see a doctor ASAP. But we only go forward.” I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “I want to go out to dinner with you this week. Just us two. Anywhere you want to go.”
“Really? Okay, that’s cool.” Under her jaded response, it’s not hard to spot her excitement.
“Cool, cool.” I try to be chill, but that’s not my strong suit.
“And just because Uncle Des and I are married, it doesn’t mean your mom is forgotten.
I will love her forever. I see so much of her in you, Lena.
You’re kind like her. And thoughtful. And you do this thing where you itch your ear just like she did. It’s uncanny.”
She laughs, tears falling down her face.
“She would be so proud of you.”
“No, she wouldn’t. I met up with shady guys in abandoned parking lots.”
I clench slightly. Grateful she’s safe, but residual panic about how that could’ve wound up. Thank goodness Des waited to tell me all of this.
“Your mom told me about this boyfriend she had in high school who smoked clove cigarettes and brought a flask to class.”
“Are you serious?”
“Your grandparents hated him. She said she was bored with him after a month, but she kept dating him just to piss off grandma and grandpa.”
Lena erupts in laughter. It’s been too long since I heard her laugh this hard.
“She would’ve loved Matthias,” Lena says.
“Nah. She would’ve seen that he’s too boring for you.” I sigh, and silently pour one out for Matthias. He gave me some good gardening tips.
“You’re a great dad.” Lena wraps her arms around my neck. “I love you.”
I breath in her scent. “I love you, too.”
After I leave her bedroom, I stand in the hallway reliving our exchange.
Was this a successful parenting moment? Was I wrong to apologize?
Should I have reprimanded her for lying to me and hanging out with unsavory characters where she could’ve gotten herself in real trouble?
Is it so terrible that as the oldest, she helps out more?
I’ll never know. Again, no answer key in parenting.
You just love your kids and hope that’s a strong enough guide.