Chapter 10
Fawnie
In the end, I asked my dad to come over to my place because I thought it would be the most private, best neutral ground that we would find.
We’ve all been sitting here talking for two hours, and I don’t think that any of us have ever cried so much or so hard.
My mom told my dad everything that she said to me, and more. My dad responded with the kindness and understanding that I knew he would. What was more remarkable was that Mom sat and listened to Dad’s view after. She didn’t just put in token time. She truly heard him out.
We’ve all cried. We’re not at the hugging it out stage yet. I still have to confess what I’ve done and watch my dad go through a second round of heartache.
I dig my nails into the arm of the couch, take a breath, and force myself to be brave.
The whole thing pours out. Well, almost the whole thing.
I leave a few details out. Like the way my blood boils and my whole body throbs with a crazy amount of confusing longing and desire whenever Shadow is near.
Whenever I think about him. Pretty much all the time.
When I reach the end, Dad’s frowning. It’s not a disappointed parent frown. Granted, I didn’t even get those when I was young. He’s studying me and the only word I can think to use is caution.
It’s way too quiet in here.
I wish I could get up and offer something to drink, but that feels like running away. I don’t want to take the coward’s way out. I did what I did, and I need to sit and hear Dad out. I should probably listen this time too. I did listen last time. I just wasn’t very good at obeying.
“Fawnie…” Dad folds his hands in front of him and leans forward. I know that he’s searching for the right words to say and trying to find the right tone too.
“I know, Dad.” I hang my head. “I’m sorry. I’ve already said it, but I truly am.”
He blows out a long sigh. “I knew you weren’t going to leave it alone.
I should never have made you promise. To be truthful, I’m torn on this.
I believe that Shadow is a good man. I think that despite what he says, he’s lonely.
I don’t want to betray his confidence and the things I learned when I was his pastor, but it’s not all the fire.
He was a troubled kid. He feels so much more than he pretends he does.
He’s a part of the club, but he doesn’t want to participate.
He won’t talk to any of the club brothers and I’ve pushed about as hard as I can with him. He’s a complicated man, Fawnie.”
He leaves it at that, but I know what he’s not saying. “You want me to be careful. You’re worried that I’m sensitive and I could easily get hurt.”
Mom reaches over and sets her hand on my shoulder. I lean into it, then reach up and wrap my fingers around hers.
Dad smiles softly at that touch. He’s the beautiful, unbelievable, amazing kind of man who can sit across from a woman he once loved even after she hurt him, hated him, misunderstood him, and cut him deeply for years.
He’s not just being a good person for my sake.
He honestly doesn’t have a single bad bone in his body.
“I don’t want to see you get hurt. No.” Dad opens his mouth.
Closes it. I give him time to find the right words.
“People change,” he muses after the long pause.
“Trauma can change a person. It can affect how they see the world. I don’t know if it’s right to call Shadow depressed.
I think that his thoughts carry him away sometimes, and he sits with them too long.
He was very hurt by someone close to him.
His mom, but I need to let him be the one to tell you about that.
I’m honestly surprised he spoke to you at all.
Maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do. ”
“Or maybe it says that you know him exactly as well as you thought,” I say gently.
“I’m just worried that you might be taking on something that you know nothing about,” Dad admits. “You think you do. You want to. I’m not questioning your commitment. I love Shadow. Let me put that out there. You know that I’m not the kind of man who closes my heart off or judges another person.”
I guide Mom’s hand down to the couch and squeeze it tightly. I know how hard that has to hit. Dad’s not done, and we both let him continue.
“Getting involved with someone this way, it’s a big thing.”
“I know,” I squeak. It sucks. I want my voice to be strong, not a mousy little whimper.
“I truly don’t want to be mean.”
“Okay.” I feel a little like that’s what every kid says to their parents about not being mad before they drop some horrible bomb on them.
“I think that you might be obsessed with a fantasy of a person you’ve had all these years.”
Mom gives me a worried look. She’s totally in agreement with Dad on this.
I’m not offended. I get that they’re concerned about me.
They’re old enough that they’ve made their own mistakes, been hurt, experienced enough of life, that they can say these things to me because they truly have my best interests at heart.
“Shadow’s already said he’s no hero. I know he’s a person. He’s not a fantasy.”
I feel terrible about not giving them the full truth. I’m not in love with Shadow. I could love him, if he let me. I don’t want to fantasize about him. At the same time, we’ve already crossed those lines. I’ve kissed him. I’ve wanted to do more.
“I’m protective of you because I’m your dad, but I’m also protective of Shadow. I’ve tried to watch out for him, as a sort of mentor. Will you hear me out on this? I promise that everything I’m saying is coming from a place of love.”
I nod. Mom starts to chew on her bottom lip. I know I do that too, when I’m really worried. It’s not a good sign.
“You’ve heard the term emotionally unavailable.”
I stay quiet because I promised I’d hear him out, not start arguing immediately so he can’t say what he needs to.
I force myself to nod, because yes, I’m familiar.
I know Dad’s going to apply it to Shadow, and I don’t like it one bit, but I’ll have time when he’s done for him to hear me too.
My dad might be a great speaker, but he’s an even better listener.
I’d love to be more like him and be able to hear all the things that people can’t bring themselves to say.
“Being emotionally unavailable doesn’t mean someone doesn’t feel anything or that they won’t.
I do think that there’s timing. There’s a right time and there’s a time that will exhaust you.
Drain you. You’ll work so hard and you might even accomplish just enough that you have a glimmer of hope, but in the end, you’ll find yourself exhausted.
All people can be loved, but some aren’t ready to be. ”
Fuck. The last thing I want to do is start bawling, but of course I’m sitting here with my throat thick, my palm growing damp against my mom’s, blinking hard to try to clear my vision so I can even see my dad.
“I love you more than anything in the world, Fawnie.” He’s so soft and gentle.
“I didn’t get to be your dad for a lot of years, but I’ll always be your father, and I’ll always want what’s best for you.
I’m not saying I know what that is, exactly, or that I’m not open-minded.
I just want to tell you that you deserve the world. ”
The most fucked up thing is that Shadow has tried to tell me the very same.
“It’s my job as a father to protect you, or at least speak my mind, even when you don’t want to hear it. I’m never going to stop looking out for you, even if that’s just offering my support, or trying to pick you up when you stumble. I’ll be here in every way I can be, I promise.”
That’s not a hard no. It’s not a yes. It’s something in between.
It’s my dad letting me choose my own path.
Shadow too. It must be the hardest thing in the world, to be a parent.
My mom and dad have both seen life and seen the world, and they know how much of it can hurt.
It must be exhausting and terrible to try to shelter someone from that pain, knowing all the while that one day, it’s inevitable that they’ll get their heart broken, probably in multiple ways, multiple times.
“Thanks.” I let go of Mom’s hand so I can brush the tears off my cheeks. She edges closer on the couch and squeezes my knee while I sniffle. “I know I don’t have the same wisdom that you do, or the same experience. I’m going to consider everything you said.
I’m not paying my dad lip service, but at the same time, my mind is already whirring, refuting his words.
I don’t accept that Shadow is emotionally unavailable.
I don’t think he’s hard to love. I think that he’s been waiting for the right time to open up.
He’s been waiting for the right words, the right moment, the right person.
And that’s probably what all na?ve idiots have said.
The world isn’t all rosy, but some things can be simple.
I’m not trying to say that I’m anything special. I just really do think that Shadow has been waiting for the right time to open up. Not just to me, but to the club, to my dad, to the rest of the people in his life. I’m not the only person who can teach him how to love, or who can love him properly.
“Before I leave,” Mom says, voice breathy and breaking. “I want to do something for Shadow. Fawnie and I talked about this, but it’s only right that we ask you.”
Right. This is the other big thing I wanted to talk to Dad about. After what he said, it seems even more wrong to bring it up, but it’s also wrong not to.
“We don’t want to do something for him because we need to prove our gratitude,” I explain.
“We want to do something kind for him that only he would appreciate. Something that says we’re thankful, and thankful for him.
I don’t know him well enough to know what we could do that he would enjoy, or what we could get him that he likes.
Material stuff seems so silly. As bad as words that are never going to be right or do any real justice to what we’re feeling. ”
Dad studies us blankly.
“It’s not like picking out a cake for someone and you want to get the right flavor and color, but I guess it’s a little bit like that. You know him, you have an idea what he likes.”
Dad’s always had this thing where when the lights go on and he has an idea, they really go on.
His whole face lights up. He’s practically glowing.
He doesn’t hold back, even if he’s still frowning a little, and I know he feels that this is a bad idea.
“Shadow always loved music. He used to play piano. He worked at a music store for years.”
What? I had no idea.
Did he stop playing because of the accident? He’s got burns on his hands, but he can ride a motorcycle and doesn’t seem to have any feeling or mobility problems.
Dad’s quiet, but his face is screaming proceed with caution.
“I have an idea,” Mom says. “I hope we can do it before I fly home, but if not, I’d like you to do it together. The three of you, or whoever else he’d like.”
Both Dad and I lean forward, ready to hear Mom’s idea. I can tell by her shy smile and the light in her eyes that I’ve so rarely seen over the years, that she has a great idea. I’m going to love it, but will Shadow?