Page 93 of Take Me
Frowning, he sets down his fork.“Sweetheart, no.Is that what you think?”
“Of course.Don’t you?”I think of the pitying glances in grocery stores.The good ol’ boys shaking their heads, grateful they aren’t the guy stuck in a wheelchair as they help Dad grab cornflakes off a high shelf.“Being pitied by people?—”
“Sometimes just means they care.”He places his palms on the table.“Is it comfortable?Does it sting your pride sometimes?Damn right it does.But you know what’s worse?”
“What?”I can’t think of too many things.
“Having nobody care at all.”
“Dad.”I reach over and put a hand on his.“I care about you so damn much.You know that, right?”
“Of course I do, sweetheart.I love you, too, but that’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean if it’s a choice between sympathy and scorn—or worse, being invisible—I’ll take sympathy any day of the week.”
“I’m not sure I would.”
“I was a lot like you before all this.”He waves to the chair.“If I had to do something that terrified me, I’d go in armed with pride.But once I got older and wiser and more used to facing my demons, I figured out I had better weapons at hand.”
“Weapons?”
“Pride’s really more of a shield,” he says.“I’d rather be armed with courage and knowledge and wit.”
“I guess I can see that.”I think of my father flirting with Ruby Brooks.How did he know she wouldn’t just give him a pity date?
He didn’t.He didn’t know that at all.
“God, you’re brave.”I blurt it so quickly he laughs.
“It’s mostly just bluster.Hard to tell the difference sometimes.”
“Still.”
“Erika, honey.”His fingers move, shifting so his hand covers mine now.“You and I, we’ve been through a lot together.We’ve made it through because we have each other.But the two of us couldn’t have done it alone.We’ve had friends and neighbors who helped us.You had the Spencer-Kings as your bonus family, and I had co-workers who rallied to support me.Guys who made sure I had all the resources I needed to get the job done.Does that make us weak or deserving of scorn?”
“Of course not.”
My father’s expression radiates kindness.“I can tell you right now that I’d rather have somebody see me with pity than not see me at all.”He looks into my eyes and nods once.“And I’d rather muster the courage to shoot my shot than to never put myself out there.Even if I fall short, I’ll wheel away knowing I tried.”
“Fuck.”Looking down at my plate, I stare at the half-eaten pile of linguine.Have I been so afraid of being pitied that I haven’t allowed myself to be loved?Did I let myself get so full of pride that I forgot to make room for other emotions?
Mind reeling, I get up from the table and push in my chair.“Will you excuse me a minute?”
His smile shifts to a knowing smirk.“Gotta make a phone call, huh?”
“You hush.”He’s right, though.“I’ll be right back.”
I’m just going to check in with Mason.We’re walking together in the wedding tomorrow, so I should make sure things won’t feel awkward.Maybe I’ll text and catch up.
Or maybe a phone call is better.Hearing his voice—having Mason hear mine—it’s something I’ve missed more than anything.His baritone laugh, his good-natured rumble—they’ve served as the soundtrack for the happiest parts of my life.
Leaning back on my desk, I rehearse what I’ll say.
Hey, Mace.Sorry I’ve been out of touch.I needed some time to myself, but maybe we could talk now?
Or maybe I’ll put myself out there a little bit more.If my dad can be brave, so can I.
