Chapter 27 – Michael
Chapter Twenty-Seven
MICHAEL
I stare at the papers on my desk, numbers blurring into one another. Sitting up straight, I rub my eyes and try to blink away the exhaustion.
Maybe tonight, I’ll finally be able to sleep, but I doubt it. Since Hannah pretty much kicked me off her porch a week ago, I haven’t been able to rest more than thirty minutes. That moment keeps playing over again and again in my head, with me always trying to figure out how I could have done things differently.
But this isn’t a fire. There’s no perfect protocol. No science that will extinguish the flames and get everyone out alive. Being in my life or not is Hannah’s choice.
And what I want doesn’t matter.
Picking up my phone, I find my notifications still at zero. Those few days she needed to think have turned into seven, still with no word from her.
A knock on the open office door makes me look up. My mom stands in the firehouse hallway, a plate covered with aluminum foil in her hand.
“I brought you dinner,” she says. “Since Katie’s at that sleepover tonight, I figured you might not even think about eating.”
Despite how annoying her random pop-ins are, I have to laugh. She knows me well.
“Guilty as charged.” I put down my phone, and she sets the plate on the table. Her homemade chicken and dumplings—my favorite.
I cock an eyebrow at her. Something is up.
We’ve barely spoken since that argument in my kitchen, with all of our interactions being limited to info about Katie. And my mom isn’t too big to say sorry, but she’s also frugal with her apologies.
“How are you doing?” She takes the chair in front of my desk.
“Good.” I nod…then keep nodding, unsure of what else to add.
She knows about my breakup with Hannah—hell, who doesn’t?—but I’m not about to spill my guts to her just because she asked.
She fiddles with her bracelets. “I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have called you hardheaded or second-guessed your ideas for the station. I sometimes forget that you and your dad really are different people. I know how awful that sounds. It’s just… I see so much of him in you. And, I suppose, seeing the station done up the way Dad wanted it would have given me the last… new memory of him.”
I slump back in my chair, feeling like a complete asshole. Of course the kitchen renovation is one of the last connections she has to my dad. Why wouldn’t it be that way?
And how come I didn’t see this before?
I already know the answer. I was too busy being butthurt to empathize with her.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I sigh. “That makes sense. We can go back to his plans?—”
“No.” She gives me a hard look. “The station is yours now. You’re doing a great job as fire chief, and you need to do what you think is best. This renovation should never have been about my trying to connect with your father. It’s your time to shine…and it’s my time to trust you.”
I’m so taken aback that I don’t even know what to say. It’s everything I needed to hear but didn’t know I needed to. I never realized how important her support is to me.
“Thank you,” I settle for mumbling. “I appreciate that. There’s…more to it for me. It hit hard when you asked me to do what Dad wanted because…”
My chest constricts. Can I even go through with admitting this?
But she sits there patiently, waiting, and we’ve come so far in this conversation already. Why not go all the way? Clear every inch of air between us?
“It’s complicated,” I say, “the way I feel about Dad. When we last spoke…”
“It was an argument.”
“Right.” I grimace. “Exactly. What he said about me not raising Katie right, it still haunts me. Even though I brought her back here. And it makes me question everything else I do too. Then whenever you or anyone on this island second-guesses me—” I shake my head, still holding on to some pride and not willing to admit how insecure all this shit makes me feel.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” she says. “And as far as your father goes, he did struggle with you always doing things your own way. That’s no secret. He loved Pine Island and couldn’t understand why you wanted to move off it. He always assumed that you would come back when you had a family, and your not doing that was even more perplexing. But those were his limitations to deal with, and it was unfair of him to take his emotions out on you. He knew that…even if he never said it.”
I catch her eye. “He did?”
She nods once. “Yes. He regretted what he said that night, Michael. I know he did, even if he never apologized.”
I sigh, wondering if I can believe her, the person who knew my father better than anyone. Then again, why not let myself believe her? Why not give myself the gift of releasing this burden?
“You’re a wonderful father to Katie,” she says. “You always have been, whether in Seattle or on the island. Deep down, your father knew that.”
I nod, my throat too thick to speak. It feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. The heartbreak from what happened with Hannah is still here, but at least I feel a little lighter—like I can go forth in the world trusting everything will be all right.
It’s not like I’ll never second-guess my parenting or my job as chief again, but I feel more confident knowing that my parents never thought I was a complete screwup.
“Have you heard from Hannah?” she asks.
The change in topic takes me by surprise, and I gape at her. “Uh…no. And I’m not expecting to.”
“Oh.” She stands and buttons her coat. “Well, don’t give up just yet. She might need some more time to come around to her true feelings, is all.”
I digest that, wanting to ask more, but she’s already out the door. I’m left alone in the office, my dinner in front of me, new questions swirling in my head.
Does my mom know something I don’t? Does it even matter?
Fixating on Hannah will get me nowhere. The best thing I can do is focus on my life—my kid, my work, bettering myself—and stay open to the possibility that somehow, someday, Hannah and I will find our way back to each other.