Page 48 of Maybe in Another Life

“And it would have been on your own terms, your own choice. And you would have known that no matter what happened, you could come home. I don’t think we ever made that clear to you. That we were your home.”

I can’t help but cry. I want to hold the tears in. I’m trying so hard to keep them to myself, not to let them bubble over. I do OK for a moment. But, as with a well-matched arm wrestle, one of us eventually goes down. And it’s me. The tears win.

I grab my father’s hand and squeeze it. It is, I think, the first time in a long time that I don’t feel self-conscious around him. I feel like myself.

He pats my hand and looks up at me. He wipes a tear from my eye and smiles. “There’s something that your mother and I have been discussing, and we were going to broach it with you when you were feeling better,” he says. “But I want to talk to you about it now.”

“OK...”

“We think you should move to London.”

“Me?”

He nods. “I have no doubt that almost losing your life in a car accident makes you assess your life, and let me tell you, almost losing your daughter in a car accident puts things in perspective real quick. We should be a proper family again. I’m lucky to be your father, lucky to have you in my life. I wantmoreof you in my life. Your mother thinks the same. We should have asked you years ago, and we just assumed you knew we’d want you there. But I’m no longer assuming anything. I’m asking you to come. Please. We’re asking you to move to London.”

It’s all too much. London. And my dad. And my mom crying out in the hall. And the hospital bed. And... everything.

I look down, away from his eyes, and I hope that when I look back up, I’ll know how to respond. I just have to look away long enough to figure out what to say.

But nothing comes to me.

So I do what I always do when I’m lost. I deflect. “I don’t know, Dad, the weather is better here.”

He laughs and smiles wide at me. “You don’t like constant clouds and rain?”

I shake my head.

“Promise me you’ll think about it?”

“I promise,” I say.

“Who knows, maybe London’s the city you were meant for all along.”

He’s joking. He has no idea the significance something like that might have for me.

And then I realize just how odd it is that I’ve never come up with that idea myself. In all of my traveling, all of my city hopping, I never once set my sights on the city my family lived in. Does that mean it’s not the right place for me? Or is it a sign that this is exactly what I needed to finally see, that London is where I should be? I want to follow my fate, but I also sort of don’t want to go to London.

“I’m going to ask you a question,” he says. “And I need you to be completely honest with me. Don’t worry about how you’re going to make your mother and me feel. I want you to worry only about you and what you need.”

“OK,” I say.

“I’m serious, Hannah.”

“OK.”

He speaks with a gravity that takes me by surprise. “Would it be easier on you if we left?”

There it is. What I want. In my lap. But I’m not sure I’m capable of reaching out and grabbing it. I don’t know if I can bear to say it out loud, to tell my father that I need him to leave, especially after the conversation we’ve just had.

My dad interjects before I can formulate a response. “I’m not worried about my feelings or your mom’s feelings. I’m worried about you. You are my only concern. You are all I care about. And all I need from you is enough information to make the right decision for my daughter. What do you need? Do you need some peace and quiet for now?”

I look at him. I can feel my lip quiver. I can’t say it. I can’t bring myself to say it.

My dad smiles, and with that smile, I know that he’s not going to make me say it. He nods, taking my nonresponse as an answer. “So, it’s good-bye for now,” he says. “I know it doesn’t mean you don’t love us.”

“I do love you,” I say.

“And we love you.”

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