Page 105 of All Your Fault

It was a newspaper clipping from the local paper we used to have that had switched to online only a few years back. The date was twenty-two years ago, while I was still in high school.CAPTAIN WILLIAM ARCHER LEADS JEWEL LAKES TIGERS TO VICTORY.

“I don’t—” I said, laying it down and picking up the next. It was a photo of me in the kitchen at home, holding up a medal. “Debate club,” I said. I reached into the box. The medal in the photo was tucked in there along with stacks of ribbons from what looked like all the races of any kind I’d ever won. There were letters in there from summer camp, notes from teachers on things I’d accomplished. A record of everything I ever went to.

“Did your mom save this stuff?” Michelle asked.

I shook my head. “No. She made these big scrapbooks for each of us. I have mine at home. This is…”

This was all Dad.

The knot in my throat swelled, growing so thick and prickled over I couldn’t breathe.

I lowered myself onto the side of the bed, and for the first time since I heard my dad was in a coma—hell, for the first time I could remember in adulthood—I put my head in my hands and sobbed while Michelle sat beside me, her hand in mine.

* * *

Later,as we walked out of the care home, Michelle suggested we take a walk. Somehow, it was still early afternoon—plenty of time before I had to start the drive out to New Jersey to pick up the girls at the airport. I’d missed them so much I was actually looking forward to the long, boring stretch of highway that would take me there.

The end of it anyway.

Michelle sent another text off as we stepped out into the cold, then tucked her phone in her pocket.

“You’re not working on the blog, are you?” I asked as I buttoned up my coat. I was teasing her by habit. But I was too vulnerable; too raw from what I’d just learned to put much fuel into it.

I was still reeling with the new truth that my father had followed every one of my accomplishments. Hank’s and Stella’s too—there’d been a box for each of us. When we thought our medals and pins had been thrown away, he’d been tucking them away in those boxes. Clipping and printing out news stories when the news was long forgotten.

All the things I thought he’d despised about me, all the ambitions I’d buried long ago—he’d cared. He’d been proud.

“I still have to write my goodbye post. But no, I’m not.” Her breath plumed around her in the cold.

“You don’t have to quit the blog, you know.”

“Yes, I do. That chapter’s over.”

I squeezed her against me, swallowing hard as we rounded the corner. We’d ended up in front of Millerville Central Park. I looked back in the direction we’d come—there was Dad’s building. And there—I counted windows—I thought was his room. When I turned back, I sucked in a breath. Hannah and Remy were standing before me, holding hands with Emma and Macy.

My heart really did feel like bursting. I couldn’t help it, those damn tears came back.

“Dad,” the girls said, both of their eyes filled with concern. “We’re sorry about Grandpa,” Hannah said.

I hugged my girls against me, squeezing them so hard Remy made a sound. From the corner of my eye, I saw Emma and Macy run to their mother.

“Thank you for cutting your vacation short,” I said.

“It got cloudy anyway,” said Remy.

Hannah shot her a look. “Actually, we missed you.”

“She also missed her boyfriend.”

“Remy!” Hannah said through gritted teeth.

“And I broke up with Draco,” Remy said.

“So, when are you getting back together?” I joked.

“I’m not, Dad,” Remy said. “I thought about what you said, how I was only with him because I didn’t know any different. You were right. So I ended it for good. I told him I was giving him back all his crap. So, I’m going to need a ride to his house to do that. It’ll go better with you there.”

I pulled her in tight. For a moment I was so shocked I didn’t speak. It was music to my ears. I hadn’t realized how worried I’d been about Remy. How sure she was going to repeat my mistakes. But we didn’t always have to follow in our parents’ footsteps, did we?

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