Page 97 of Love is an Open Book
“You, too,” I say, surprising myself. I haven’t had much chance to miss him over the years. “Been too long.”
“Yeah?” he asks, a smile tugging at his suntanned cheeks. “You’ve been busy, though.” The twinkle in his blue eyes is as obvious as Mom’s hints.
Guess I’ll have to get it over with. “I know what Scott told you, but Mia and I aren’t together.”
Dad’s face falls so fast it’s like a cartoon. Mia would have a better way to describe it, but all I can think is how it looks like he’ll have to pick his jaw up off the floor. “Well, okay,” he says, blinking. “Scott must’ve got it wrong.”
“Nope. We were, for a short time.” I keep it brief, feeling like the wind has been knocked out of me. “Turns out it was a mistake.”
“Better off friends?” Mom prompts.
But Dad shakes his head, watching me. “I don’t think so. You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
If he’d asked me any other roundabout way, I could’ve denied it. But it’s so unexpected I answer him honestly. “Yeah.” The word lingers in the quiet kitchen, conversation and laughter flowing in through the open windows. I put a flower in thevase, not knowing what to do with my hands. “She’s not in love with me, though.”
“How do you know?” Dad, again.
“Because I told her how I felt, and she said she wasn’t ready.” I keep my head down, focusing on arranging the long-stemmed flowers.
“You told her you loved her?” Mom, this time. She shoots a quelling look at Dad when he starts to answer for me.
I start to nod, then think back. Did I? “She wanted to go back to being just friends and I told her I couldn’t because my feelings were bigger than that. I think that’s pretty clear.”
He shakes his head. “Nothing is obvious in relationships. You might think it is, but unless you’ve said it once, twice—” he shoots a glance at my mom “—a thousand times, you can’t take for granted she heard it. And I thinkI love youis something worth saying.”
“I wasn’t about to toss out the wordlovelike a Hail Mary,” I say. “I’m not putting that on her. Not when she’s made her choice already.”
“A choice without all the facts.” Dad removes the foil from the pan of burgers and breaks off a bite, offering it to me.
I take it; maybe it will settle the nerves this conversation has stirred up. “As much as I love you two giving me relationship advice, I didn’t come here to talk about that.” Another unspoken look passes between my parents that I can’t quite interpret, so I keep going. “You know I love it here, Dad. But after Scott left and the...”
I glance at Mom, feeling guilty, but she says, “Our divorce?”
I nod. “After that, I felt stuck in the middle. Not by you,” I tell my mom quietly, wondering if I ever should’ve brought this up. “But, Dad, I know you needed help here. And I was happy to give it, but sometimes it felt... heavy.” Queasy with nerves, I lean against the counter.
But Dad doesn’t look hurt or upset. He rubs a hand overhis graying hair, a gesture I recognize as my own. “I put a lot of weight on your shoulders,” he says. “Trust me, I know. I should’ve realized sooner, especially with you not wanting to work with me. But I always thought it was rebellion or something.” He looks at me and grins. “Ridiculous, since you never even missed curfew. Scott’s more rebellious than you are, and that’s not saying much.”
“I missed curfew once.” I smile, the tightness in my chest easing a notch.
“To drive your friend home when he got a flat,” my dad says, shaking his head. “The point is, I looked to you for the cause of it, when I should’ve been looking at myself. I spent so long thinking about what I’d lost when your mom left that I didn’t look at what I had.”
I dart a look at my mother, but she’s listening with a small smile on her face, and my dad continues. “I leaned on you for support, but I never appreciated you. Not as a son, or a friend.” He shoves his sleeves up. “Didn’t realize until I got a few friends of my own who talked some sense into me that things between us had been one-sided for a long time. I expected you to come out here for visits and never once stopped by your place. I knew next to nothing about what you did for fun, or the life you’ve made in Illinois. I’d stopped asking questions, and when you stopped coming around, instead of reaching out, I got bitter.”
“That’s when he got the smoker,” my mom chimes in.
He laughs, a hoarse chuckle. “That’s when I started smoking meat, yeah. Sounds silly, but it was a hobby. And I started looking for tips, found an online group for people new to it. Turns out several of them live close by.”
I feel like maybe I should warn him about the dangers of sharing personal information with strangers online, but he’s moved on. “I made friends, is what I’m saying. Do you know how long it had been since I had friends?” He points at me. “Don’t answer that.”
I grin. “So you don’t need me anymore?” I hadn’t been wrong. He’d stopped relying on me, just like I wanted, but it makes me feel hollow somehow.
He shakes his head. “You’re my son. I’ll always need you in my life. But I don’t want you to feel like you need to hold me up. I’m not that old yet,” he says, and grins. “What I want to do is get to know you.”
“That’s why you’re moving to Colorado?” The sarcastic reply has me feeling like a snippy teenager and I half expect Dad to call me out on it, but while Mom gives me a sharp look, he just shakes his head.
“I’m moving out there for now, but I’m not sure where I’ll end up. I’m retiring because I realized there’s a lot I haven’t had time to do. One of those things is visit you. Haven’t even seen your house yet. And you and Scott are always going to baseball games. That sounds fun. I haven’t made it to a game since your high school days.”
“Fun?” I can’t believe this. “You’re retiring because you want to have fun?”
