A Broken Soul(14)

I sniffled as a few stray tears broke loose as I sat up to look at him. Anger starting to push to the forefront. "You make it sound so easy. It's not, Dad. I can't just smile and pretend it's all okay. I'm going to miss you too much. I don't want to lose you."

His rough, weathered hands cupped my cheeks. He used his thumbs to brush my tears away as his eyes shimmered with his own. His voice sounded ragged as he spoke. "I know, sweetheart. I know. And I'm going to miss you, too. I know it won't be easy, but you're not losing me. I'll always be with you. Never doubt that. It'll be sad, but I need you to remember something for me. I need you to remember that I was able to let go with peace in my heart because of you and your mother. You two gave me more than I could have ever imagined. My time on Earth was so full, so miraculous, because of you.

"Be sad, baby girl, it's okay to be sad. But then, let it go. Live your life and search for the person who makes you complete. Strive to get what you and your mother gave to me. Never settle for less than that. You understand?"

I nodded, unable to speak past the mass of emotion that was clogging my throat.

"Good. Now, you know your mom's roast is my favorite so let's eat. I'm not dead yet, and I plan on rolling through those pearly gates fat and happy."

I couldn't hold in my watery laugh, even as I smacked my father's arm and stated, "Too soon, Dad. Too soon."

He grinned back at me and gave me a wink as I helped him from the couch. "Fine, no more death jokes."

"Much appreciated," I deadpanned.

We made it to the dining room just as my mother set the platter in the center of the table. "Just in time. Let's eat."

Dad patted his belly and took his chair at the head of the table. "Great! Oh, and Elizabeth, your daughter's gone all moon-eyed over a young man."

My eyes went wide as my head shot in my father's direction. Leave it to my father to lighten the mood by throwing me right under the bus.



       
         
       
        

And I couldn't even be mad at him for it.





Quinn



"SMELLS GOOD," I said as I entered my parents' house through the back door just off the kitchen. Mom was standing at the counter, peeling potatoes as I made my way to her and placed a kiss on her cheek.

"You here for dinner?" she asked, as I pulled the fridge door open and grabbed a beer.

I took a gulp and leaned back against the wall, crossing my ankles. "Yeah. Soph's at a sleepover again tonight. Figured I'd hang with you and Dad for a while. Speaking of … " I peeked around the doorway into the hall. "Where's Dad?"

"He had to run to the hardware store. The garbage disposal's been acting up. He's finally going to get around to replacing it."

I laughed as I picked up a piece of potato and popped it in my mouth, earning a smack on the hand from my mother. "About time. It's only been what? Two months?"

"Three," she added dryly. "That man's convinced he can fix anything. I was this close to shoving one of his tools down inside and turning it on."

"Glad you didn't. He'd probably have a heart attack if you ruined one of his wrenches."

"Yes, well, it would serve him right," she muttered, as she picked up a knife and began chopping. "I'm surprised you didn't have other plans for this evening." She tried her best to come off conversational, but I knew exactly what she was doing. She was in the mood to push. Every so often my mother got it in her head that I wasn't happy with my life, that I needed more. Those conversations never tended to go well. "I figured you'd want a night out since Sophia's not home. You know, with friends …  or maybe a nice young lady."

I dropped my head back on a groan. "Christ, Mom. Not this again."

"What? Can't a mother inquire about her son's life?"

I set my beer down and placed my hands on the island that separated us. "You're not inquiring, you're trying to have another one of your goddamn interventions. I'm telling you now, just stop."

"Watch your language," she scolded.

"I'll watch my language if you tell me you understand," I threw back.

Dropping the knife with an exasperated huff, she threw her hands up in the air. "I just want what's best for you, Quinn. I want you to be happy."

That familiar prickling sensation on my skin I got every time I got angry began to nag at me. "You keep saying that! What makes you think I'm not happy, huh? I'm perfectly fine with my life, Mom." 

"Perfectly fine is not happy," she argued back. "I know you loved her, sweetheart. We all did. Addy was a wonderful person. But it's been three years. You need to start living again."