Chapter 12 #3
“It’s nothing,” I say, trying to brush it off.
I don’t want him to think I’m reading too much into this.
It’s just an offhand comment, a reciprocal compliment.
Maybe he feels bad for making things weird over the last few days, and he’s extending an olive branch.
“I have a lot of practice with it,” I say.
“Talking to people, and building rapport. It’s part of my job. ”
He goes quiet, and that same bird lets out a loud, shrill sound again.
“Right,” he says. “Anyway, James noticed your father was by himself and made sure to always say hi to him, and sit with him, and that’s how we all met.”
A hollow sensation settles in my stomach.
For some reason, I never thought about this piece of it.
When I learned my father was sick, I felt angry that I hadn’t known.
Mad at my father for waiting so long to tell me, and mad at myself too for having ignored several of his calls.
But I didn’t really understand the day-to-day of it, what it would have been like for him to go through chemo, through all these appointments by himself.
“This would have been a few years ago?” I ask.
“Yes,” Jacob says. “After a little while, he went into remission, and he was doing great. He still came by the hospital a lot, though, because James…James never really improved. We lost him pretty quickly.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. My dad told me this earlier, but hearing it from Jacob is somehow different, the sorrow in his voice fresh.
“Thanks,” he says. “It was—it was really hard on Maggie. But your dad was there for her, for both of us. There were all these logistics to figure out, and James had been really clear with us about what he wanted for his funeral. It was strange—we all knew what was happening, and we had so much time to talk about how things would be after he was gone. I’d promised him I’d help Maggie through it, that I’d take care of the planning, but doing all of it while grieving, it was a lot.
Ajit didn’t offer to help or ask what he could do, he just did it.
He showed up places and called people and made all these arrangements, and Maggie and I—I don’t think we’d have been able to do any of it without him. ”
We reach the end of the short street and, without discussing it, turn around and head back toward the inn.
“Your father did really well for a while. We all stayed in touch, and he told us how his checkups were. At some point, he and Maggie started seeing each other more regularly, and everything was fine until about a year ago, when the cancer came back. They proposed more aggressive treatment this time, and then surgery.” He pauses.
“It was scary for a while, a little touch and go. Maggie was…I think it brought up a lot of feelings and memories about how things were with James.”
He exhales loudly, and I look at him. His face is tense, but slowly his mouth softens into something resembling a smile.
“That’s when your father proposed. Right before he went into surgery. Maggie was crying—they both were—and she said yes, and…everything’s been fine since then. The surgery was a success, and it sounds like he’s been doing really well.”
My eyes prick, a sharp sensation, and I blink a couple times.
“Thanks,” I say. “He doesn’t—He told me he’s been doing fine since the surgery, but he doesn’t always tell me everything, so I wasn’t sure.
” The wind picks up, blowing through my damp hair, and I gather it all in one hand, holding it away from my face.
“I’m glad he had all of you here. Thanks for—thanks for that too. ”
He glances my way. “It was nice for us too. For me, especially. I haven’t had anyone like that in a long time. Maggie’s been there as a second mother since I was little, but James’s dad left when he was young, and when mine passed…It’s just been nice having your father around.”
I blink again. His words are bittersweet. Because I understand this yearning for a father figure. I understand how it feels not to have one. And it hurts that my father, my actual father, could provide that for someone else, but not for me.
“He talks about you, you know.”
My shoulders grow stiff.
“Really?” I ask. The word comes out sounding wary, because I can’t imagine what my father’s said about me. Judging by Jacob’s reaction to hearing my name at the rehearsal dinner, I don’t think it was anything good.
“He told us you graduated from USC and that you work in Hollywood.” He’s quiet for a beat. “He said that was the last time he saw you. At your graduation.”
“Yes,” I say. “That’s true.”
His hands swing by his sides as he walks, and for a second, the one closest to me flexes, his fingers spreading, then curling into a fist.
“That’s a long time to not visit your father,” he says. His tone is careful, deliberately neutral.
“It goes both ways,” I say. “He hasn’t visited me.”
We’re only a short distance from the inn, but beside me, Jacob stops. He stills me with a hand on my forearm, and I turn to face him.
The tension on his face is back, the lines around his mouth tight.
“You seem…you seem like you care about him, but I don’t understand…” Jacob sighs. “He’s been sick. He couldn’t visit you, and I don’t understand why you wouldn’t come here. Even for a short while.”
I step back. His hand falls from my arm, but he continues.
“Anything could have happened with the surgery, and it’s—I used to think maybe you had a fear of flying, or some other travel-related phobia, but now I know you travel all over the place, and it doesn’t make sense.
You can do all of that, but you couldn’t find time to come see your dad?
” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t make sense to me. It doesn’t seem like you.”
I flush, heat traveling up the back of my neck. “I didn’t know,” I say.
His forehead creases. “You didn’t know…”
“I didn’t know he was sick,” I say, my voice small. I hate the way it sounds. The way all of this makes me feel. “He didn’t tell me.”
“But how…What do you mean—”
“Everything you said, the diagnosis, the treatment, the surgery. I didn’t find out about any of it until a few months ago.” I let out a loud breath. “Some of it I didn’t find out until just now.”
His mouth opens, then closes. Then opens again. “But he never made it seem—”
“Did he tell you that I knew? That I was…avoiding him or something?”
“No,” Jacob says. “He didn’t—” He clears his throat. “He didn’t say anything either way. I just assumed he had told you. He told me and Maggie everything.”
I flinch, and Jacob’s eyes soften.
“Neelu—”
“He did tell me eventually. It took him a while to get ahold of me, so maybe…maybe part of it was my fault.” I look down at my feet.
“I didn’t know why he was calling, and I didn’t answer for a long time.
But even when we talked, even after the surgery, he never asked me to come here.
To visit him.” I stop, my throat growing tighter. “Even then, he didn’t want to see me.”
“That’s not—” Jacob reaches toward me, his arm lifting in my direction, but I step away before he can touch me.
“Don’t,” I say, my voice wobbly. “Just don’t.
” Tears build again, but I hold them back.
“I get that you think you know my dad, and you’ve spent all this time with him, so maybe you do, but you don’t know anything about our history.
Or what he’s like with me, or—” I shake my head, a tear escaping the corner of my eye.
I turn then, not wanting to cry in front of him. I walk quickly to the entrance of the inn, and even when I hear him calling my name behind me, I don’t look back.
Another tear falls, and I wipe it away with the back of my wrist.
I don’t know what I’m doing here, I think when I reach my room, when I climb into bed.
I felt this way during the rehearsal dinner, and during the wedding, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt it more than I do now.