30. Liv
The man in front of me was so unrecognizable after the past couple of months that I nearly dismissed him as a stranger, but no, it was my father.
He’d trimmed his salt and pepper hair much shorter than I remembered ever seeing it, and he had a mustache instead of his usual beard.
He wore a pressed button down and khakis rather than his standard vintage band tee and flannel.
He looked quite distinguished and… rejuvenated.
It was my fault he was so despondent these past months. In trying so hard to keep him safe and whole, I convinced him to stay in this place that sapped all of his energy and turned him into a shell of his former self.
It was so nice to see him excited. Happy, even.
“Hi, Dad! Oof, no don’t hug me yet, I’m soaked!” My uber hit a rainstorm, and I was more drowned rat than human.
He ignored me.
“I am going to hug you, Olivia Elaine. Fancy shirt be damned.”
I laughed for the first time since losing my job, squeezing him in a hug. Comforting warmth and the familiar scent of tobacco and oud wood in his cologne washed over me. And for a moment, I allowed myself to revel in the familiarity of the embrace, forgetting everything else.
“Come on, it’s freezing.”
Together we walked to his room. Thankfully, despite the state of my cheap suitcase, my clothes were dry inside. Dad boiled water for tea in the microwave while I changed. He didn’t have a kettle, so I had to ignore the egregious error in tea preparation.
The scent of bergamot and orange peel permeated the room as our tea steeped. Comforting familiarity settled against my limbs. For so much of my life, it was the two of us against the world. And I missed this .
“It’s so good to see you feeling better, Dad.” My voice was small, almost child-like. Folding my body into the corner of the uncomfortable loveseat, I pressed my hands into the warmth of the mug.
“I’m happy to be getting out of this place.” Using the little paper tab, Dad plunked his tea bag in and out of the steaming water, looking pointedly at me.
I winced, shifting the mug to avoid burning my fingers. “I thought it would be the best place for you, since I’m not here to stay with you.”
“It was. Until it wasn’t. But it’s okay now.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard.”
Dad sighed. “I’m still in control of all my faculties, Livy. And I’m still your parent.”
“Dad.” I drew the word out like a bratty teenager. “I know. I felt…I don’t know…responsible.”
“Responsible? For me?” Dad’s already creased face deepened. He leaned forward, cradling the mug in his hands.
I mirrored his position, blowing out a breath through steaming tea. “Do you remember that field trip to the ice rink when I was ten?”
A mixture of recognition and confusion crept over my father’s face. He angled his head, motioning with the mug to continue.
“All I wanted was to look like the figure skaters on tv. I was obsessed, do you remember?”
He nodded.
“I was so excited. We made this whole costume from some old prom dress mom left in the attic.”
“I’m still surprised it didn’t disintegrate at first glance. My sewing skills are subpar.”
“Mine too.” Even now, nearly twenty years later, dredging up the memory ached like a bruise in my chest. The little girl I’d been longed to curl up and cry, to hide from the embarrassment.
“All the other kids were in regular clothes, but I had on my silly sparkly outfit. Sarah Jessup decided that since it was almost her birthday, I should give it to her. I said no, and she said if she couldn’t have it, then I couldn’t either. And she ripped it.”
“I never liked Sarah Jessup. Her parents were terrible. But you told me you fell.”
“I did… she pushed me down when she tore my skirt, and all the other kids circled around me on the ice and laughed.”
“And that’s when you called?”
Avoiding his gaze, I nodded.
“I still don’t understand what this has to do with you feeling responsible for all this going on with me?”
“I’m getting there.” My fingers tightened around the mug, and I glanced around the room, seeing it for how small and lonely it must have been for him. More guilt curdled. “When the doctor said something about a previous injury contributing to it?”
“Vaguely, but the first few days after the accident are a little hazy with all the drugs. What’re you getting at?”
The words bubbled up; I needed to get them out.
“When you drove through the freezing rain to come get me and lost control on the ice and shattered your leg? It was my fault, and so is everything going on now. If I hadn’t called, you wouldn’t have been on the road when the truck skidded.
And if you didn’t have problems with the old injury, you wouldn’t have had the accident. ”
“Olivia, none of those things were your fault. I would’ve picked you up if you called and said you wanted to leave.
You didn’t have to lie about falling.” Between his brows, a divot formed, so similar to the one so often on my own face.
Outside, a flash of lightning brightened the room for a split second.
“Technically, I didn’t lie. I did fall.” A vague hint of a smile tugged my lips upward. Until I sobered again, remembering. “But if I hadn’t called?—”
“The fact that I would’ve had to pick you up later aside,” he aimed a very specific dad look at me, “do you have control over the weather?”
I shook my head, the damp ends of my ponytail stinging where they flicked against my face.
“Then you aren’t responsible for what happened, and you aren’t now. Is that why you’ve been so…”
“Overbearing?”
“I was going to say aggressively helpful, but sure.” He patted my hand. “I’m not your responsibility. And while I mostly appreciate how much you’ve sacrificed; I can take care of myself.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“It’s just… you’re all I have.”
“Is that true, though?”
Startled, I took a sip of my cooling tea, swirling the brownish liquid. Its spiraling depths spun me into contemplation for a while until it hit me. “I guess not.”
“How is Asher, by the way?”
“Ash is… having a rough season.”
“He’s still unsure of himself?” Trust a parent’s insight to cut right to the point.
“There’s a lot going on. But yeah. He thinks because he made bad decisions in the past, he doesn’t deserve to be captain, even though it’s what he wants.”
“We’ve all made some bad decisions.” He stared thoughtfully into the dregs of his tea.
Did Dad have any regrets? About the way Mom foisted me on him or his early retirement?
I regretted the way I left Ash alone with his thoughts, but I still had no way of knowing in which direction my future lay, and the analytical side of my brain refused to be silent.
It told me not to decide until I investigated every possibility and knew beyond the shadow of a doubt when I’d be back. If I came back at all.