Thirty-three
Peter
All day, I wanted to call my dad back, but between oversleeping, helping Cooper load the sheep, and the drive back to Meadowbrook, there just hadn’t been a chance to break away.
As soon as we parked the truck and trailer, another wave of tasks hit us.
I blinked, and it was dinner time. More hungry than I’d ever been in my life, I scarfed down food which made my eyes droop and my limbs feel heavy.
I wanted nothing more than to just crawl into bed early.
But my dad texted me.
Dad
Haven’t heard back from you. You ok?
I figured I should call him instead of ghosting, but I dreaded digging up my feelings when I was so tired. My shame lurked like a monster in the darkness. It would take every shred of my strength to say what I needed to say without falling apart. And I wanted to keep my dignity if possible.
While I deliberated, he texted again.
Dad
Fueling up at a truck stop. Gonna be on the road for five more hours. I’ll have my headset.
Giving him time to finish filling the tank and his coffee thermos, I took a shower and changed into gym shorts and a t-shirt.
Then I grabbed my cane from my bunk and set out across the barnyard toward the barn.
At this time of evening, it was quiet there.
None of the cowboys were working or messing with horses until nighttime chores which didn’t take place until eight-thirty or so.
The inside was cool, and the smell of hay tickled my nose.
The corridor was t-shaped, with one main hall lined with stalls and closets and two wings off the side—the grooming station on the right and the hayloft ladder and storage on the left.
And, if I remembered correctly, there was a barrel somewhere against the wall at the bottom of the hayloft ladder.
That felt like a private, quiet place to sit.
Finding it exactly where I thought it was, I eased down and listened to make sure I was alone. No noise or movement, save the shuffling of horses in their stalls, reached my ears.
“Hello? Anyone in here?” I called out.
No one answered.
Satisfied, I told Siri, “Call Dad.”
As the phone rang, I shifted in discomfort.
“Peter! There you are.”
Tension unraveled from my shoulders at his tone. He was still eager to talk to me, and that meant more than I could express. “Hey, Dad, sorry for taking so long. It’s been a pretty wild day.”
“No, problem. You’ve been on my mind constantly, so when I got your text early this morning, I started to worry that something was wrong.” A dull hum over the line meant he was probably cruising down an interstate somewhere in the United States.
“There’s nothing to worry about. I just wanted to talk for a minute.”
“Well, good. I’ve been wanting to talk to you as well, but Bea said to give you a couple days. What’s on your mind, son?”
“I…” I couldn’t even get a word out before a swell of emotions made it hard to talk. “I don’t like the way we left stuff, Dad.”
He gave a soft hum of agreement.
“I’ve been angry at you for the way you talked to me, but I know why you said what you said.
And I just wanted to say—” My voice cracked.
“I’m sorry. I’m ashamed of what I’ve become, but I have no idea how to change it.
So I’m stuck feeling awkward and guilty for everything I do and say, and I just—” I faltered for a moment.
“The idea of you being disappointed in me or thinking I’m a big screw up is…
” I couldn’t find the words to finish. “I’m sorry, Dad. ”
When a beat of silence stretched, I cleared my throat.
“You done?” Dad’s voice was heavy.
“Yeah.”
“When I think of you, what I feel is grief. Not disappointment. Grief.” Unafraid to show his emotions, Dad didn’t try to calm the tremble in his voice. “Because I’ve seen my boy fall and pull himself up more times than I can count. But this time…this time you didn’t get up.”
My chest tightened.
He said, “I’m afraid that life finally got too heavy and beat you down too much. That’s what keeps me up at night—worry that my son won’t rise again. But I need to apologize as well, Peter. I was too harsh—”
“No, Dad. You weren’t.”
“I kicked you while you were down. I could’ve asked why but I didn’t.”
“I deserved it.”
“That might be true, but if we went around giving people what they deserve all the time, the world would be a lot uglier than it already is. Mercy goes a long way.”
Silence fell for a few moments, and I relished in the fact I could talk to my dad like this. His openness and humility was something so intrinsically part of our family that we hardly recognized how much it defined us. For some reason, Cooper flashed across my mind. He didn’t have this.
“So why aren’t you getting back up this time?” There was no accusation in his tone.
I didn’t want to tell him the truth—my whys hardly made sense to me. “I don’t know if I can make anyone get it.”
“Try.”
I spoke slowly. “The basic answer is I’m angry, depressed, and so scared, Dad.”
“Explain it. What’s that look like?”
I took a deep breath, giving my brain time to recall the thoughts and feelings that haunted me.
“I’m angry because I feel like I’ve been robbed of everything and everyone I love.
” Instantly, my body responded to my words, tension pulling through my breastbone as I spoke.
“Every single thing I do and every conversation I have is an uphill battle. The one thing I’ve always been good at—thinking and solving problems—feels impossible because all my thoughts are a carousel of survival now.
I can’t process the world around me and everything I experience makes me feel so overwhelmed that I want to hide.
Trying to do anything at all taps my nervous system so hard.
For example, the guys here at the ranch are running around, doing their chores, while I’m over here counting steps, listening for my cane’s echoes, trying to sense obstacles, gauging distance, fumbling with technology, wondering what every smell is, and it’s just too damn much. ”
Dad didn’t say a word, letting me continue.
“And then, on top of that, it’s terrifying.
I’ve struggled with the unknown my whole life.
I’ve always worried about what’s coming.
But now that I’m blind?” My throat zipped with emotion.
“Dad, I cannot shake the moment by moment fear that something is just around the corner and that me or someone I love will get hurt. It is constant.
“And this is where I get depressed. In order to keep my marriage intact, I have to not only survive but thrive enough to be able to love and care for my wife. And I don’t know how to do that anymore.
I feel paralyzed before I even start because just finding and putting on a pair of pants feels like a feat.
I want to do more for her, Dad, I do, but I don’t know how to magically snap out of it.
And I feel like…like she deserves better. ”
He grunted. “What’s the plan then? If you feel like she deserves better, how are you going to be better?”
“I’m not trying.” I blurted, suddenly irritated that he wasn’t understanding.
“I think it would be best if Sarah found someone else who can take her on her adventures and give her the children she can’t stop talking about.
I’m not that guy anymore. Everything has changed.
We can’t do the things we’ve always loved.
I can’t kayak anymore. Hike, bike, or drive her to her favorite places.
What about when she’s in labor? Who’s driving like a maniac at 2 a.m.?
It won’t be me. If we have a kid, I can’t be left alone with it because it could be in danger and I wouldn’t even know.
Sarah deserves to have a companion in life she can count on.
And I want that for her. I want it so bad. Enough to let her go.”
I wasn’t much of a crier but saying those words out loud—giving life to them—broke me.
And a hot tear raced down my cheek. “You could combine the pain of every single one of my medical diagnoses on a scale and it would not compare to the pain of Sarah one day regretting that she chose me.” Overcome, I hissed a low, heavy curse. Because what was I saying?
She already regretted choosing me. She said so herself.
Her ring sitting in the pocket of my duffle bag proved it.
I spun my own wedding band with my thumb, wondering for the hundredth time if I should take mine off too.
Dad clicked his tongue. “So you would prefer to give up and allow your wife to find comfort in the arms of another man than to buckle down and suck it up?”
Immediate anger flared in my chest as I ground out the words. “I never said that.”
“But that is what you’re saying though, son.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Then help me understand, because all I’m hearing from you are excuses.”
I shook my head, fighting not to lash out.
“Of course I don’t actually want her to be with someone else.
” I scoffed at the audacity of that. “But I do think that one of us should at least find some happiness in life. If there’s a chance for Sarah to be happy one day, I want that for her.
And seriously doubt she will ever find that with me again. ”
Long moments of silence passed as Dad clicked his tongue, mulling it over.
Finally, he said, “I have some stuff to say. And, if you’re not man enough to take it right now, I want you to hang up and call me when you’re ready.”
“I’m ready now,” I spat.
“You sure?”
Knowing tough love was headed my way, I swallowed against my sore neck, my mouth suddenly dry. “I’m sure.”
“Life is not about being happy all the time.”
I shook my head, already wanting to object.