Chapter 31
Walking into the house, my goal is to find my dad. I need him to help me understand what to do, and why I have gotten to this point.
“Dad,” I yell when I throw my bag down.
“In here.”
I walk into the kitchen to find him sitting next to a box of things. He is sorting through papers on the table, while trophies lie in and out of the container.
“What’s all of this?” I slide into the seat across from him, looking at what’s laid out.
Apparently, he has pulled out every award and crappy artwork that I have ever done. Even my report cards, he kept for some reason.
“I was just thinking of your childhood.”
So was I, though I wonder what brought on his nostalgia.
“Why?” I ask.
He shrugs and finally looks me in the eyes. He has that same weariness that I have grown used to since the start of this healing process. Waiting for the results to confirm if the cancer is in remission is probably bringing him right back to the fear he had when I told him.
Even though all the tests look good, and I have done everything right, I know he is still worried.
“Well, speaking of when I was younger, I have some things to ask you.”
He starts stacking everything and putting it away. I wait until he’s finished to continue speaking.
“When my mother stopped coming around, you told me basically not to expect anything from anyone. Why?”
“I don’t remember that.” He rubs the back of his neck.
“Well, you did. If you don’t remember, what do you know about that time period?” I slide my jacket off, getting comfortable.
I think it has more to do with trying to release some energy than anything else. This is yet another conversation we have never had that being with Callahan has brought up, and it’s making me antsy.
“Monty, what’s this about?” he asks while leaning back in his chair.
“Dad, I’m trying to understand how I got to this point, and I think a lot of it had to do with what happened back then. I’ve come to terms with a lot when it comes to her, but I don’t think I ever dealt with our stuff.”
“What stuff?” His eyebrows shoot up as he sits forward.
“I love you, I’m not mad at you, but I don’t think you handled anything with her well.” I take a deep breath in trying to settle myself before I continue.
It’s enough of a pause for him to interject.
“I tried my best.”
I lock eyes with him, and this time it’s him heaving a little. His mouth is pinched tight, and his eyebrows drawn down. I didn’t expect to get anger from him.
“Even if it was your best, it wasn’t enough.
I needed her, and then I needed you, and all you offered me was a half-hearted Don’t Rely on Anyone speech.
Why didn’t you tell me that it had nothing to do with me?
Or that I would always have you? Or even that I would find the people who wanted to be in my life? ”
“I thought you knew all of that,” he practically yells.
“How would I? I was twelve, raised by a mother who hated me and a father who didn’t acknowledge any of it.” I don’t mean to raise my voice back, but I do.
Long-buried feelings finally bubbling to the surface push it to go higher. It lowers his voice until it doesn’t even sound like he is breathing.
I don’t feel angry. I meant what I said about not being mad at him. But I am disappointed, and above all of that I’m hurt. These are my parents. The people who are supposed to not let anything happen to me, and the worst thing that has happened to me was them.
“I’ve spent years not letting anyone get too close. Even you and Farrah. And then this great man comes, and all he wants from me is to give myself to him, and I can’t. I couldn’t. I just need you to help me make sense of it.”
I need something to help me put my past to rest for good. I can’t get it from her, I was never able to give it to myself, so I need him to help me.
“I’m sorry.”
It’s so quiet I have to sit forward to hear it.
“I didn’t know how to talk to you without bringing my stuff into it. I thought if I were just here, it would fix everything from before. I thought as long as you had me, you would be okay.”
“Why didn’t you talk to me about it later? I have been an adult for fourteen years.”
He sighs and rests his head in his hands.
“Monty, I have tried. Maybe not the way you hoped, but when I noticed you pulling back from everyone, I tried to pull you closer. I thought I did.” He reaches across the table, grabbing hold of my hand. “What can I do now?” he asks.
“I’m trying to figure out how to love him right. I’m trying to find a way to let him see how important he is to me. But you told me not to do that, and honestly, I haven’t seen you do any different.”
He grimaces, his body almost flinching away.
“Monty, you’re right. Whatever I said to you, I was thinking the same for myself.
Having a marriage like that, one that falls apart like that, and hurts like that; it makes you never want to let anyone in.
I was damaged. I saw you were damaged, and I just didn’t want either one of us to be hurt again.
But I also didn’t want you to be afraid of it. ”
He gets up and drags his chair closer.
“Don’t do what I did. Don’t be like me. I’ve seen you with Callahan, and I can say with my full chest that man will take care of you. You have good instincts. Maybe you didn’t even want to change before this because no other guy deserved it. But you deserve to have all of that.”
“But how do I get it?”
“By jumping in.”
I laugh, remembering what Callahan said. He was right. I wasn’t going to fall into his arms; I have to jump.
“Thank you.” I kiss his cheek and get up.
I have a lot to figure out.
After the conversation with my dad, I call Farrah.
“Hey, bestie.” She sounds brighter than she did when I left her a couple of hours ago. “What’s up?” she asks.
“After what happened with your ex, how did you give yourself to Errol?”
She turns it into a video call, knowing that she has to see my face to gauge my reactions. I don’t know if she really wants to talk about being cheated on, but I need her to help me understand.
“It took time. I had to learn to trust again, and spent a while holding my breath waiting for the worst to happen. Slowly, without me realizing it, I let it out and began to just breathe in his presence. I think he had already earned a lot of it before we started dating. At that point, it was just about giving in.”
I sit back against my headboard and look up at the ceiling.
“All you have to do, Monty, is stop fighting it.”
She makes it sound so simple. When I’m with him, it is that simple. I just need to stop being in my head. I need to do what I wanted to do from the start and just lean in. Or rather, jump in. No more holding myself back.
“I think I can do that.”
“Good.”
“Now, how do I make him believe I will do that?”
This makes her fall quiet. I can see the wheels in her head turning. She bites her lip and then nods like she has come to a conclusion.
“I don’t know.”
“What?” I ask, sitting up. “That’s it?”
“I only know Callahan through your version, and the time I have spent with him. You know him through his actions and his loving. You know better than anyone how to reach him.”
I sit back again, resigned. “You’re right. I have to be the one who does the most now.”
We talk over some ideas of how I will do that. When I get off the phone with her, I sit in silence.
My father thought getting cancer would put things into perspective for me.
In some ways, it has. Losing so much has taught me what matters to me most. Facing a future that may not look the same as it did before showed me that maybe I’m okay with that.
Being in a situation where I needed to be surrounded by people who love me has made me learn that this is what I want above all else.
I’ve had the career I strived for, the freedom I craved, and the independence to be in control of my heart.
But this year, when all of these things were tested, none of them felt worth holding on to.
I just want my family, my friends, and him.
I want to be passionate and happy in everything I do, and that includes dance. It’s time I start doing that.
I pick up my phone again and dial his number. He picks up on the second ring.
“Hello, my love,” I say to him. “I miss you already.”
He chuckles, and I can imagine his smile.
“I want to ask you something,” I say.
“Anything, anytime.”
“I have my appointment with my oncologist in a few days. I was hoping you would come with me.”
“Really?” he asks, his voice going up a pitch.
Seeing as how I have attended every appointment by myself, I know this is shocking to him, as it would be for anyone else.
This is my first step in showing him I’m all in.
From now on, he will be my person for every step moving forward, and that includes holding my hand while I find out if I’m in remission or not.
If I’m being honest, I need him to be there with me.
“Yeah, I want you to be by my side when I find out. I want to celebrate with you or cry on your shoulder.”
“Of course I’ll come.”
“Good.” I get up and grab my overnight bag. “I’m also going to come over right now. I need to cuddle until then. I also need you to fix my wig.” I laugh as I look at the lifted edges in the mirror.
“I’ve been learning some new stuff. Also got you a teal wig. I thought you might want to wear it to your cancer-free party.”
“The one Farrah is pre-emptively planning. Everyone is going to be disappointed if I am not in remission, including me.”
“Yeah, well, we will find something else to celebrate.”
Right now, being with him is celebration enough. I want him to see that, so I quickly pack and tell him I’m on my way.
Speeding my way there, I try to catch that high I get when we drive together. The manic smile on my face likely has more to do with seeing him than anything else. I can’t shake it even when I walk into his place and toss my bag on the floor.
Throwing myself into his arms like he just returned from war only makes it grow.
He spins me around, endlessly kissing my cheek like this is his first time seeing me in a long time, too.
In a way, I guess this is a coming together after an emotional separation.
When he puts me down, he lets go begrudgingly to allow me to get comfortable.
I throw off my jacket and pull him to the couch.
“I want to go to Christmas with you. I want to be there as a couple and bond with your ma about you instead of Rowan. I want them to see you with a girlfriend who will fit right in.”
His eyes light up. “Are you sure?” he asks.
“Yup.”
He picks me up and slides me onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around my middle, he pulls me tight against him. His belly pushes into my soft side, and it feels so plush and comfy I never want to get up.
“You know what this means, sweetheart?” His voice holds that glint of mischievousness that has been there since the start.
“Tell me.”
“I was right. You didn’t believe me when I said you were going to be my wife, but I feel like I just caught someone in my arms.” He squeezes tighter as if to prove his point. But I don’t need him to.
“Well, you are very hard to resist.” I kiss his forehead before running my hands down his clean-shaven face. True to his word, as long as I don’t have hair, he won’t have a beard.
“Tell me you are doing this because you want to.” The way his voice shrinks reminds me of Martha’s Vineyard. It tells me, again, that I have work to do. Quippy lines rush through my mind in response, but he doesn’t need to laugh. He needs to feel secure.
“I really want to. Honestly, being with you is the only thing I’m sure that I want to do. I don’t know what my life is going to look like, but in every version, it has you.”
“Do you want to talk about the other stuff?” he asks.
“It doesn’t matter. Right now, all that matters is getting you under a cover in your underwear. I need you to warm me up.”
Nothing else has to be said for him to carry me to his bedroom.
We strip bare, and in the comfort of his covers, we press our bodies together.
His warmth seeps against my cool skin, his heart beats against mine.
I grip him so tight I want him to feel all my intentions through my touch.
He holds me just as desperately. That’s how we fall asleep, and how we spend days lost in each other’s arms.