Deny, deny, deny. I’m fine, really I am.
“How can I get angry when I’m just as much to blame? I didn’t give her as much attention as she wanted and needed from me. I expected dinner on the table, and how many times did she do that for me? How many times did she pick you up from school because I was too tired to?
“And I couldn’t say a thank you? She found another man who says thank you, cara, and I am not him anymore. I tried to make it work, but by that point she couldn’t look me in the eye anymore, let alone want me as her husband any longer. She knew what I was like, and knew that I wouldn’t change.”
“Dad…” I don’t fucking like what I’m hearing. She cheated on him and now it’s his fault?
My anger starts to slip away from me, but I need it, I need it so bad to keep me safe. Because there’s a man waiting for me at my apartment, getting ready to go on his shift to work, but first he’s cooking me dinner because he says he loves me.
Is it real? For how long?
“Listen to me, piccolina. Please don’t be afraid. I wouldn’t trade the last twenty-six years of marriage for nottin’.” Dad’s eyes are bright, and he clears his throat. I’ve never seen him so broken, even after the divorce was finalized, even after he found out that Mom’s remarrying.
“I was blessed with a good woman for many years who used her time on me, who made me laugh, who loved me. I was the one that couldn’t give her what she wanted, that’s my fault, and I’m the only one to blame.”
“But she broke your trust, Dad. She went behind your back and slept with another man!”
There’s a parked car sitting on my chest, and I have to work to get the words out. The world has gone blurry and the pain in my throat has reached cataclysmic proportions.
“Would I have loved it if she told me before she had done anything and asked me to go to marriage counseling, if she spoke to me about what she needed me to do? Yes, of course. I regret that every day, but maybe she knew I wouldn’t listen, that I wouldn’t change, that I wouldn’t learn to appreciate her, to love her the way she wanted.”
“So there’s no hope then?” I don’t know what I’m asking. I don’t know what I’m even saying anymore.
Is there hope for me, Dad? Am I going to follow in her footsteps? Am I going to find somebody and watch them disappoint me time and time again? What’s the point? Just… what’s the point?
“Sweetheart…” Dad says, coming around the island and suddenly I’m in his arms, and he’s holding me tight and I haven’t gotten a hug from Dad in so long. I always felt like he blamed me for it all, the way Mom left, the way she couldn’t stand to be around me anymore.
“I don’t want you hurting because of what happened. And it happened so long ago. It’s been years, why do you keep the hurt, uh?”
Dad starts rocking us to the left and right, like he used to when I was a little fussy toddler and he’d rock me to sleep like this. It was the safest place in the world, and my dad was the strongest man. Monsters quailed in terror, and the world was his – and by extension, mine, too.
I clear my throat, trying to erase the pain, but the stupid tears come anyway. I can’t do anything but cry while my Dad holds me like he used and tells me I’m the greatest, tells me how much he loves me, but most of all, he tells me it’s alright to be afraid.
“Dad?” I ask, when my nose is full of snot, and I need to blow it so I pull away from him. “Are you proud of me?”
“Why would you ask that?”
Here comes the truth. “I – I haven’t been a good person. I did mean things to people I care about. I say awful things, I do awful things. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Dad kisses me on the cheek, and grabs my hand, walking me over to the couch beside his chair. For once, he doesn’t look at the screen, and 100% of his attention’s on me.
“I know how you are. I know your mother’s marriage to Malcolm is giving you a hard time. I know you blame her, cara, but that’s not fair. And you’re not being fair to yourself when you push away the people you care about, and who care about you.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to let them down.”
Dad nods. “But of course you’re going to let them down. You have to decide if it’s going to become a permanent thing, or not. Go on, tell me what’s wrong.”
I shake my head. “It’s okay, Dad. Get back to your game-”
Dad squeezes my hand and makes me sit back down when I started to get up to make us lunch. “No. I want to hear this. Tell me.”