Chapter 23 A Father Out of Water #3
He drove them to a town called Salò on the western shore of Lake Garda, and along with that feeling of being useful came a strange sense of youthfulness.
She’d certainly prescribed the right medicine by suggesting this adventure.
And maybe he’d even admit that the Italians were far better drivers than Arizonans.
“I was thinking about what you said yesterday,” George began, moving into fifth gear to pass a car, “about working hard to prove yourself. I want you to know, I’m proud of you for all the things you’ve done.
The degrees, the practice. Of course, your book.
But you know what? Despite me always pushing you, I’d be the same level of proud even if you’d never done a thing. ”
“Thank you, Dad.” A canned response.
“No, I’m serious. Don’t thank me and move on. I was never good at showing it, but I’ve always been proud to be your dad.”
“Will you stop beating yourself up? You being here with me makes up for anything you did or didn’t do years ago. And I mean it.”
He almost had to pull over, her words hit him so hard. “I don’t deserve that.”
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Dad, and I’m proud of you for stepping out of your comfort zone. I had no idea how this would work, us going on a trip, but I’m glad I trusted my instincts.”
“Me too. Believe me. For a million reasons.” He didn’t say it out loud, but this trip had squashed some of the pain of Sandy’s rejection, too, which had kept him up for far more hours in the night than he wanted to admit.
“I feel like I did back in the old days,” Bianca said. “Flying by the seat of my pants. The hostel.”
“Honey, that was the only hard part about Venice. And I mean that literally. Worst bed I’ve ever slept in.”
“And that’s why we’re in an Airbnb tonight. The reviews promised two great beds.”
“Thank God.”
They had the windows down, and an hour later, George could tell when they got close to the lake. There was a cool and humid bite to the breeze, blowing their hair back.
He turned down the Italian radio station. “You haven’t mentioned Corrado much. You two still chatting?” He’d avoided the subject, partly because he could never get used to her dating men. And even more so, because he was afraid what would happen if she fell in love while she was in Italy.
She shook her head. “Not really.”
“Something happen?”
“He wants more, but I’m not ready.”
That was a relief.
She put her feet up on the dashboard, something Faith had done, too, a practice that wasn’t altogether safe. Still, he bit his tongue.
“But I want to be,” she said. “Add relationship issues to my list of problems I have to work out before I entertain a relationship. I’m the worst kind of girlfriend, which I’ve already shown him twice.”
“How so?”
“It’s not important.”
“He’d be the luckiest guy in the world to have you.” George meant it.
“You know what stinks? I think I love him.”
Huh.
It was all fine and dandy till she’d brought up that word. “You love him? You barely know him.”
“I’ve known him forever. We basically lived together when I was last in Bologna.”
Get. Out. Of. Here. This was news. He knew they’d spent time together, but he’d had no clue she’d been spending the night with him. “How do you know you might love him?”
“How did you know you loved Mom?”
He laughed and cast a quick look at her before returning his eyes to the road. “I knew it in my bones, but I wouldn’t hold your mom and me up as the standard.”
“When you two were happy, it was really good. I have great memories.”
“I wish it was the same for me. It’s hard to see past some of the things I did.” He shook his head, remembering the early mornings and late nights at Motorola and Intel. He didn’t know how else to live. His only mission was to keep the lights on.
“Corrado’s a good man, Dad. I’d be the lucky one.”
“Very much a good man. But a chef. Opening up his own place. You know how many restaurants go out of business in their first year?”
“His won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“And think about his hours. You going to raise a kid with a chef? In a city? I appreciate that you have feelings for him, but be careful. You don’t want to get involved with a chef long term. Trust me.”
“Because you have so much experience?”
He looked over and could see she’d checked out, watching the container truck they were passing.
“Sorry, I crossed a line,” he said. “It’s none of my business.”
Her head swiveled his way, and he braced himself. George had done it again. “And maybe you could trust me. I’m not an idiot.”
“I don’t think you’re an idiot.” So much for being a good parent.
“I might not be perfect,” she said, “but I can definitely read people. I would be the luckiest girl in the world to be with Corrado, but he deserves better. That’s the simple truth.”
“Don’t ever say that.”
“Just being honest.”
More silence.
He thought what he might say to earn back the trust he’d gained recently. “Can we pretend like I didn’t say anything? Please let me start over.”
No response.
“I’m like a big ship, Muffin. I know I have to make a turn, but it takes time. I hear you. Everything you’re saying and have said the past few days, and I do trust you. You have it more figured out than me.” He tapped her leg. “Just let me keep trying.”
She let out a long exhale.