Ray
Sitting at the messy kitchen table, surrounded by magazine clippings, mood boards, and color swatches, I brushed the loose strands of hair that had fallen from my bun into some semblance of submission.
Wade had been gone seven days, and I was feeling restless already.
Sure, over the years, we had times where we went a week or two without talking, but this was different.
We had opened the threshold of our feelings for each other, and shoving them back into the tiny box we had kept them stored in for so long just wouldn’t happen.
Instead of sitting around twiddling my thumbs, I’d poured myself into work, needing some sort of release for the pent-up energy that raged inside of me.
My client list was constantly growing, and I knew it was almost time to add a team member or two to the books. But for now, I was a one-woman show who was very thankful to be busy.
I was currently combing through online catalogs of thrift stores in surrounding counties, looking for the perfect accent piece for a new high-end salon in Atlanta.
They wanted a shabby-chic vibe with a heavy dose of upscale class. I had a vision of thrifting a large armoire that could double as storage, purposefully mismatched stylist chairs, and a statement chandelier hanging above the entryway to bring everything together.
Earlier in the week, I sent over color swatches for paint, and the client had loved everything I’d suggested.
Projects like this gave me butterflies and reminded me of why I loved doing what I did. I could find beauty in broken things, taking something that otherwise would have been trash and sprucing it up with a little sanding and paint to create a beautiful accent to a space.
In my world, there was no such thing as trash. Everything had a discoverable treasure hidden inside of it; you just had to take the time to uncover all the layers to find it.
The front door opened, and the jangling of keys echoed through the small space. Judging by the heavy footfalls of work boots, Dad must have just gotten off his shift. He strode into the kitchen, where I was haphazardly working, and plopped into one of the dining room chairs with a heavy sigh.
No one on this earth worked harder than my father. Even though his position wasn’t physically taxing, the emotional toll it took on him was excruciating at times.
Not only was he responsible for keeping the town safe, but he was also responsible for an entire team of deputies who put their lives on the line every single day to protect our community. The weight of so many people relying on him was a heavy burden to carry.
I could argue that Firefly Cove was one of the safest places to live, but after what transpired last year with Stella and Charlie, the town had understandably been a little on edge.
Even though the incident had technically happened outside of city limits, closer to Atlanta, the residents of our small town had started being more vigilant.
People dead bolted doors they had previously left unlocked, bumps in the night that had once been brushed off as the wind were called in to the police station, and residents stopped walking past the cover of darkness.
Our sleepy little town was suddenly wide awake, and it kept the sheriff’s office quite busy.
“Long day?” I asked, brushing the magazine clippings and swatches into some semblance of a pile.
I tried not to take up too much space if I could help it, seeing as the house was already small enough and there were five of us crammed in here. The twins and Benny had enough crap lying around; I didn’t need to add to it. Especially since I was the one doing most of the cleaning.
With his eyes closed and his head tipped back, I wondered if Dad had fallen asleep sitting up. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come home absolutely wiped after a long day and be dead on his feet.
“Just a normal day at the office,” he grumbled, standing back up to remove his utility belt and unbutton his stiff khaki button-down.
Once he had extricated himself from the bulk of his uniform, he walked over to the fridge, opened the door, and peered inside for something to eat.
“There are leftover enchiladas in the microwave for you.”
I could see the tension in his posture relax as he closed the fridge door and walked over to where the microwave sat above the stove. He opened the door, took the aluminum foil off the dish, and started the timer to heat everything up.
Walking back over to the table, he stood behind my chair, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the top of my head.
“What would I do without you, mija?” he asked softly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Well, your uniforms wouldn’t be clean, you’d probably eat takeout every night, and I’m sure the kids would have to walk or find their own ride to practice.
” I chuckled, but as I looked over at him to where he’d retreated to in front of the kitchen sink, I saw the tension he had just released a second before come back, tightening his shoulders toward his ears.
“Sorry, I was trying to make a joke, but it clearly didn’t come out as I’d intended.” Mentally sticking my foot in my mouth, I hoped I hadn’t offended him.
I hadn’t meant anything by what I’d said; I didn’t mind helping out where I could. I lived there rent-free for goodness’ sake; the least I could do was the laundry, cooking, and making sure the kids got to where they needed to be.
“It’s fine, mija. I’ve just had a long day, and it hit me how much you do around here to help.”
“I don’t mind helping, Dad. It’s the least I can do for you letting me live here rent-free.”
“No. The least I can do as your father is allow you a safe place to stay that doesn’t put you into unnecessary debt.” He growled, clearly frustrated with the situation.
“Dad, it’s fine. I don’t mi—”
“It’s not fine!” he yelled, slamming his hands down on the sink, causing me to flinch slightly at his outburst. “It’s not fine.” This time the sentiment was quieter, almost a whisper, but I heard it loud and clear.
“What happened at work, Dad?” I asked softly, knowing that something had clearly rattled him.
He tried his hardest to leave work at work when there was a tough case, but he was only human, and sometimes things followed him home that were hard to shake.
“We ran a call today that made me seriously evaluate how much I rely on you to do the things a parent should be doing.”
The microwave beeped, signaling his food was heated, so he grabbed the plate, bringing it back to the table. He sat down across from me but didn’t touch his food.
“You know the trailer park right outside of town? The one I’ve always told you is best to stay away from?”
I nodded, afraid that if I spoke, he’d shut down, and I wanted him to feel comfortable talking about the things that stressed him out.
If I’d learned anything from Wade, it’s that bottling everything up and shouldering all the guilt and blame for things beyond your control doesn’t make them go away. It just piles them up until you’re buried and can’t find your way out.
“We got a call this evening that there was a domestic dispute in that area. When we responded, we found both parents high off their asses and the thirteen-year-old son caring for the one-month-old baby. The kid is just a baby himself, and he’s having to shoulder the burden of parenthood because his parents can’t put their wants aside for the sake of their own kids. ”
I could tell that the call had shaken him, but comparing that situation to what happened in our home was asinine.
Nothing about what my father had done to keep our household afloat was selfish.
He had run himself ragged trying to keep food on the table, a roof over our heads, and the lights on for the last fifteen years.
“Dad, I hope you don’t think for a single second that there’s any comparison between what you saw on that call today and what happened here after Mom died.”
“But isn’t there?” I could hear the pain flowing from his words as he pushed the full plate of food away, his appetite clearly gone.
Reaching across the table, I grabbed one of his hands and held it in mine. When our gazes met, I saw the shell of a broken man sitting across from me, similar to the one I’d just recently watched drive away toward healing.
“Papí.” I squeezed his hand softly, holding back the tears that threatened to fall.
I’d done enough crying for the men in my life who couldn’t stop being everything for everyone to take a second and take care of themselves.
“You are the strongest, most resilient, and wonderful father that all of us could ask for. Our family went through one of the most challenging tragedies a family can go through, and somehow, we all made it. Have I had to step up and, at times, act as a parental figure to the younger kids? Yes. Do I sometimes wish that things could be different? Also, yes. But the fact of the matter is that they aren’t different.
We’ve made do with what we have. And Dad, what we have is an abundance of love.
Each and every one of us has had to make sacrifices because of our circumstances.
But you lost the love of your life. You made one of the biggest sacrifices a parent can make by setting aside your grief to make sure our family didn’t fall apart.
None of us can fault you for doing what needed to be done. ”
He sighed, squeezing my hand back gently and brushing away the tears that threatened to track down his cheeks.
“When did you get so wise?” he asked with a sad chuckle.
I laughed back, swiping at my own tears. “I don’t know, but lately I feel like I’ve been doing a lot of crying, and I’d like for that to stop.”
“Mija, I’m so proud of you. I hope you know that.”
“I know, Dad.”
I stood from the table, walked over, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek before heading toward the stairs. I was emotionally wrung out after the week I’d had, and my bed was calling my name. After all, each day I laid my head down and closed my eyes, I was one day closer to Wade coming home.
Pausing at the foot of the stairs, I turned with my hand on the banister.
“Hey, Dad?”
“?Qué, mija?”
“I think Izzy needs to hear that you’re proud of her, too.”
He nodded softly, pulling the plate back in front of him and picking at the leftovers. I could see the wheels turning in his head, digesting my words, but that wasn’t my battle to fight.
I’d opened the conversation, and that would have to do for now. The ball was in their court, and I hoped their relationship wasn’t too far broken to be mended.