18. Kade
18
Kade
Bryn and I sit across a table from our father in the dining room. It’s strange. Been years since we’ve sat at a table together, and yet, our entire childhoods, this was our nightly routine.
Dad looks old. He looked old when we were young, too, but now he’s getting up there, and I realize with heavy regret just what I’ve taken from him—years of his life without his children. I know that I was protecting myself—protecting Bryn. Still, though, Gia cracked my heart open, and now I’m letting every feeling in, feelings that haven’t existed in me in many years.
“I’m happy you called,” Dad says with a solemn smile.
Bryn glances at me. I don’t meet her gaze. I’m not sure if she’s upset with me for following through with the call and not telling her. I don’t regret it, though. “Bryn has… wanted to call you for a while. It was her idea. She gets the credit.”
“It’s been so long,” he says, his smile growing to combat the sadness. “You both look great.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Bryn says. “So do you. ”
Dad chuckles. “Don’t need to lie to me, Brynnie.”
Her cheeks tighten at the nickname.
“I’ve wanted to reach out myself. Before,” Dad explains, moving his hands over the tablecloth, straightening out the wrinkles.
“Why didn’t you?” I ask. I resist crossing my arms over my chest to close myself off.
“I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear from me,” he answers with a small shrug of his shoulders. “It’s not a good enough reason, but after all this time has gone by, I wasn’t sure it would be welcomed.”
Bryn and I are silent.
“Which I understand. I don’t blame you for that,” he says. “Uh…” He wipes his hands off on his pants legs. He’s nervous.
So am I.
“I know I wasn’t a very good father to you two,” Dad says. His voice is frayed in a way it didn’t used to be.
“You were a good dad,” Bryn says and opens her mouth to continue. She stops before she does. No doubt a qualifier on her tongue.
He swallows. “I wasn’t when it really counted, was I?”
Neither Bryn nor I say anything.
“I understand why you’ve kept your distance,” Dad says, pulling a pink sugar packet from the dispenser on the table. “I didn’t always, but I do now.”
Again, we don’t say anything.
“Took me a while to… to not be angry,” he says.
My chest tightens. “All we were doing?—”
He holds up a hand. “Kade, Kade, let me…” He stops to swallow. “Let me talk. Just let me get through what I need to say, and then you can castigate me.”
Bryn places her hand on my knee. A small gesture, a reminder to keep my temper. It doesn’t often spring forward, but as evidenced by my blow-up at Gia, when it comes to my dad, tensions always run high.
No matter the outcome of this conversation, I still have Bryn. I still have my family.
Dad opens a sugar packet and pours it into his cup of coffee, the granules tumbling into the dark liquid. Then, he stirs the coffee. He’s taking his time getting his story straight.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a small movement in the doorway. Gia has peeked her head around the corner to check on us. My eyes meet hers. I let the corner of my mouth quirk upward. She smiles back and then disappears out of sight.
Her brief appearance reminds me I still have Gia on the other side of this, too. And all that tension in my chest melts. On the other side of this conversation is my life. A life full of love and potential. My life has always been full of love and potential… I just was too in my own head to recognize it.
I can survive this conversation. Whatever happens.
Dad takes a tentative sip of the hot liquid, places the cup down definitively, and inhales. This is it. “Your mother and I wanted you more than anything. We didn’t choose to wait until we were forty to have you; that’s just how it worked out. I mean, we’d nearly given up on the subject…” He holds his hands out, one toward Bryn and one toward me. “And then we had you two, and that was a blessing beyond either of our wildest dreams.”
Bryn’s head dips down. I don’t have to look at her to know she’s trying to hold back tears. I grab her hand off my knee and lace my fingers through hers.
“I couldn’t believe our luck. And I think I held onto that maybe a bit too tightly,” he says, pressing his hands on the table, spreading his hands wide. “You know, I never ever considered a life without your mother. Even when she got sick, I was confident she’d get better. At her lowest, up until the day she left us, I…” He stops. Sips his coffee.
The doctors told us that day Mom was going. To say our goodbyes. And we did, Bryn and me. She had her final moments of clarity saved up to give us what we needed so we could survive the rest of our lives without her. And Dad stayed by her side until she was gone.
I remember his glassy-eyed stare afterward. The distance he put between himself and the rest of the world.
If he really had convinced himself it wasn’t going to happen, that she wasn’t going to leave us, then he would have had to play catch-up on the grief Bryn and I already worked through. I’ve never considered that before.
“I know it might have been acceptable for me to need a little time. Of course, that seems forgivable. But I never felt like I got through the first wave of grief. By the time I saw the other side of it, you two were in high school, and I didn’t realize so much time had passed,” Dad explains. He shakes his head slightly, jowls wobbling. “I am not trying to excuse myself to you. Just explain so maybe you can understand. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be your father. I wanted that more than anything.”
A sob escapes my sister, her hand flying to her face. I put an arm around her and pull her into my side. The tremendous waves of sorrow hit me, too, but I’m able to keep it together. For all of us.
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and the shame is so evident it breaks my heart further. I never thought I’d be able to see things from my dad’s perspective or be able to extend empathy toward him after years of needing him. But now I can. Now I do.
“I sometimes wish it had been me who had gone, you know? Because your mother would have been able to do it on her own. I wasn’t strong enough, and you kids didn’t deserve that.”
“Don’t say that, Dad,” I say softly.
“I failed you two. And I failed her.” He purses his lips. “I have to live with that.” He folds his hands on the table. “I’ve gotten some help over the years since you guys left. You know, I talk to someone, and I take medication. For a lot of things now, since I’m getting up there, but—” He chuckles to himself.
“That’s amazing, Dad,” Bryn says, trying to push her tears away from her eyes and failing to keep them from falling.
“It’s what I should have done a long time ago,” Dad replies. “I’ve missed out on so much time with you, and it’s my own fault. And I’ve been too much of a coward to do what you did,” he says, nodding at me.
I shake my head. “Out of the three of us, Bryn’s the one who isn’t a coward.”
“You got that right,” my sister says, her voice shaky yet brash.
Both Dad and I laugh. It peters out into a collection of soft sighs because the heaviness still exists between us.
Dad’s forehead tenses. “I’m sorry it took me so long. And I’m sorry I couldn’t… I’m sorry I didn’t . Not a day goes by that I’m not thinking about you two. Not a minute, really.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. A swell of emotion is creeping up in me, tears pricking my eyes. I don’t want to cry now. I need to be strong for Bryn and strong for Dad. I’ve always needed to be so strong, and I’m tired of it.
“But thankfully, you manage to find yourself in the public eye from time to time, don’t you?” Dad says with a glint in his eye.
I roll my eyes, and Bryn laughs this time, patting my chest. “Yeah, this guy is going to have a modeling contract soon.”
“Don’t even,” I growl.
Dad’s face brightens. “You’re doing well. Right? You’re both doing… really well.” Without me , I can practically hear as an addendum.
“Better now,” Bryn says. She reaches out and takes Dad’s hand on the table.
I watch his old, liver-spotted hand encase hers. The tears tug harder at my eyes. All these years of distance. All these years of pride.
All this time wasted.
“Right, Kade?” Bryn asks, looking up at me expectantly.
I nod. “Yeah, yeah, much better.” I move my hand to cover theirs. The feeling of Dad’s crepe skin under my fingers reminds me just how much time has passed. Years, we could have been a family. Together.
Dad places his hand on mine, too, and squeezes all our hands together. “Look, I am not expecting you to forgive me. But maybe we start slow and get reacquainted and—” He stops. “Whatever you are willing to share with me.”
“We could extend our stay here in Blue Flag for a week,” Bryn says without missing a beat. “We’ll talk to Gia and?—”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Dad says, though hope blisters his blue eyes.
“We want to,” Bryn says. “I mean, I want to. I can’t speak for Kade.”
Both of them look at me. I don’t know what to say. Part of me wants to rush toward the opportunity. Remember the dad who showed me how to fish, taught me about edible plants on the mountain, the one who climbed trees with me, and calmly distracted me from burning hydrogen peroxide on my skinned knee by pretending like I was the strongest kid in the world.
Dad was a good dad until he couldn’t be.
And I can’t help but resent all the years I didn’t have that good dad. It’s like I’m trying to carry the torch for the younger me by taking it from me now .
“That would be good,” I say, my last word getting clipped by tearfulness in the back of my throat. “I need to…” I get up from the table. “I need to use the bathroom.”
I navigate my way through the dining room tables and leave the room. The moment the door closes behind me, I push myself up against the wall. My head falls forward with the weight of all the tears waiting to be shed in my eyes, and I weep quietly into my hands.
I needed his apology and explanation so badly. It’s like he stuck a key into a locked door in my mind and released all the skeletons I’ve been keeping in there.
Someone touches my shoulder—Gia. I know her touch and have known it much longer than last night. “Come here,” she murmurs.
I let her guide me into her embrace, and despite her smallness, I collapse into her and let her engulf me with the steadiness of her touch.
“It’s okay. Let it all out.”
“It’s too much,” I sob.
“I know it is. But you’re doing it, Kade. You’re letting it all out. I’m so proud of you.”
I cling to her. I wouldn’t have been able to release all of these emotions without last night, without that kiss, without the realization of her love.
Life is too short to hold back. To wait until you’re ready. You’ll never be ready if you wait .
I slide a hand up to the nape of her neck and move my mouth to her ear. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’m not going anywhere, baby.”
I breathe in, catching a scent of sweetness and pine in her hair. “Is it crazy if I tell you how much I love you?” I’ve had all these years to know her. She’s already claimed a place in my heart. Already earned my love. Now, it’s just a little different.
Gia lets out a hum that moves like a laugh.
“Is it too soon?”
“Not soon enough, Kade.” She kisses me, her lips pillowy and soft. A place I’d like to land again and again. “Because I love you too.”