22. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
Will
Georgiana hasn’t stopped talking since we got in the car. She borrowed one of our parents’ cars from the three-car garage to drive us to the hospital to check on Dad, since she left her own car there with Mom. I let her talk since I’m in no mood to do so.
When we finally arrive, park, and head inside, I feel like I’m moving backward even as I walk forward, stepping off the elevator and making my way down the long hallway that smells of sterile cleaning solution.
“You’re not listening to me,” Georgiana finally says, letting out an agitated breath. “I can tell, you know.”
“And yet you keep talking to me.”
She slaps my arm, and I wince. It kind of hurts. Only my sister could get away with hitting me like that.
“What?” I say, grunting.
“You’re only frustrated because you let her go.”
“That’s not true.”
I try to defend myself, but there’s no use. I let Lizzie leave. I let her drive off without me, leaving behind our agreement, our friendship, our deal.
But none of that matters. The truth is, her leaving me behind is better because it gives me a reason to stay here and not go back to Selah Falls. How could I go back there, work at the cafe, and see Lizzie every single day, pretending like what happened between us never happened?
I think about the Selah Falls, everything sort of jumbling together in my mind. But the one thing that sticks out is Lizzie. She was there from the start of my time in Selah Falls.
The first person to welcome me and help make Selah Falls feel like home. The thought of never going back, of stopping by just to grab my things and then moving back home to work at the real estate company since Dad is sick, feels like the only other option.
Last night, when Mom and I went to get snacks, she said she was happy for me but I knew she would feel some kind of way about Lizzie being there.
And she did. She told me so. She also wanted to know why I thought it was appropriate for Lizzie to be at the hospital.
And, of course, I told her that Lizzie was my girlfriend. But what I really wanted to tell her was that Lizzie was my friend. That Lizzie was the one person who felt more like home than being back here in Chicago ever would.
But Mom wouldn’t understand that. I don’t think my parents have ever felt that way about each other. I haven’t ever felt that way about anybody. But I do know that as soon as I realized I felt it, I lost it.
And that means there’s no business deal.
There’s no fake dating relationship.
Lizzie will probably never want to see me again. And if Lizzie doesn’t want to see me again, then why would the rest of the group?
Of course I’m going to miss my friends, and I don’t want to let Jay down by backing out of the wedding. But she was their friend first. So why would they want me there? Guilt and uncertainty plagues me.
We’re walking toward Dad’s hospital room, and I already know what awaits me there. But everything going on in my mind is already bad enough. We enter the room just as a nurse walks out. He smiles at us and steps out of our way.
“Well, it’s about time that you all showed up,” Mom says in greeting.
“It’s good to see you too,” Georgiana says, going over to give Mom a hug, and Mom kisses her on the cheek.
She’s used to all this because she still lives at home. But I’ve been gone for a while. Of course I still know how it goes, and I know what to expect, but I’m a little slow to move.
Mom walks toward me anyway, her arms stretched wide open like I’m supposed to walk into them. So I do. But I’m not really paying attention. Even when she kisses my cheek and I hug her, it feels as distant as ever.
Hugs are supposed to be comforting. Kisses are supposed to be sweet. But from her, it just feels like I’m paying a price. Like I’m saying I’ll stay because I came back.
Because I don’t have a choice. Because I have nowhere else to go. It’s like I’m giving up on everything.
My dreams. My hopes. My friends. My Lizzie. But I think that’s exactly what I have to do because if she doesn’t feel the same way, then there’s nothing to go back to.
Mom starts crying the moment I let her go. I have no choice but to be present now, looking at her, and trying to figure out what’s wrong. Georgiana is back at Mom’s side in a heartbeat. She holds Mom’s hand. I don’t.
I stare at them, then look over at Dad lying there. He is sleeping now, but stirring, like he is about to wake up. Mom sniffles. Without words, I know it. She’s worried for her husband.
For a long time, I thought they didn’t love each other. Not in that romantic way. They seemed to work. To be together because they’d been together for a long time, had built a family, and a business together.
But I never saw them holding hands, kissing, or doing anything remotely romantic growing up. Or even as an adult. But watching her cry as she looked over at him showed me that she loved him. Each tear was her love.
I knew that she stuck by my dad. She defended him even when he was wrong. Like when he threatened to take away my inheritance and my aunt’s house.
She texted me sometimes, wanting me to come back home, but she’d never say a bad thing about him or admit that he was wrong to do that.
When she sniffles again and turns to me, I expect her to defend him again. To tell me to go over to him. To pledge my allegiance. To say that I’ll stay and be the loyal son who will take over the company so he can rest and get better. No matter my dreams or heartaches.
But she doesn’t do that. She reaches out for me. I take a few steps toward her, accepting her hand in mine.
“He’s been in and out of it,” Mom says, nodding in Dad’s direction. “But he was up this morning. And you know what was one of the first things he said to me when he was awake?”
“What’s that?” I ask, not sure I want the answer.
“He asked me about you. He wanted to know if I called you yet, if you had come to see him. And he told me that if I hadn’t called, I should because he had some things he wanted to say to you.”
She bursts into tears again, sobbing. Georgiana hugs her tightly. I give Mom’s hand a squeeze, swallowing hard over the lump forming in my throat.
Dad stirs again, so I walk over to him, taking a seat in the chair beside his bed. I wait a minute or two. His eyes slowly open. He looks around the room for a bit, up at the ceiling, and then his head turns on the pillow. His eyes settle on mine.
For a moment, I feel exposed. Like what Mom said was just something to make me feel guilty. To get me to come over to him so he could open his eyes, open his mouth, and tear me apart like he always does.
As I sit there, looking into his eyes, a tear falls. Something in me changes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad cry. I don’t think he ever intended for me to.
But here, lying in his hospital bed, looking weaker than I’ve ever seen him, he cries. And sitting next to his bed, feeling both like the man I’ve become who never wanted to come home again and the little boy who never wanted to disappoint him...I cry too.
“Son,” he croaks out, beckoning for me to come closer.
I lean in so he doesn’t have to strain himself. I help prop him up, pressing the button on the side of the bed to raise him a little higher.
“Dad,” I say, clearing my throat and wiping away tears.
“You came.”
“I did.”
We’re both quiet for a moment. I don’t know what to say.
He breaks the silence first. “I’m sorry, Will.”
I need to process his words, but I don’t know how. I listen and let him continue.
“I’m sorry that I’ve been so hard on you.
I know you’ve always been passionate. For so long, I wanted you to be passionate about the things that I was passionate about.
I spent so much time pushing you away. I didn’t know any other way because my father did the same thing to me.
But lately I’ve been wondering if maybe I’ve been doing this all wrong.
These months without you here have been hard, son.
I thought I’d be okay once you left, and I was for about a day or two.
And your mom... she’s tried to be strong, but I can tell she misses you. Your sister too.”
Georgiana gives me a look that confirms it. I reach for her, and she steps between Mom and me, taking one of each of our hands while I hold on to Dad’s hand with my other hand.
Dad continues, “But I knew that the only person keeping you away from home was me. Being in this hospital bed has given me a lot to think about during the times I’m awake.
” He laughs a little. “It’s taught me that life is not a guarantee.
Anything could happen, and I was sitting here allowing stupid things to keep my family apart. ”
His words sink in and I don’t interrupt him. Tears fall down my cheek and I let them.
He says, “For that, I am sorry. I’m sorry that it took me so long to see you for the man that you are and to tell you that I understand if you don’t want to work at the company and if you don’t want to live at home anymore. I just ask that you don’t erase us from your life.”
The tears flow a little more freely. Something in me breaks and is mended all at once. I didn’t realize how much I’d been holding onto. How much I stayed away from home because I resented my dad and the pressure he put on me.
And I realize how much pressure I put on myself too. I spent my childhood trying to be perfect. Trying to be who he wanted me to be. Then I spent part of my adulthood doing the same thing until I couldn’t do it anymore.
But then I realized I was being selfish. I ran away to start over. But I left my family behind.
How unfair is that? To just leave something unfinished. Unhealed.
My whole family is crying in the hospital room now. Mom and Georgiana are sniffling, standing near me. We still hold hands.
I think of Psalm 56:8: Thou tellest my wanderings: put thou my tears into thy bottle: are they not in thy book?
It amazes me that even in this, I feel comforted. My tears don’t feel shameful or filled with regret.