Page 80 of The Parkers' Handsome Holiday
“It could have been,” my father said.
That didn’t make me feel better. “Why do I destroy everything I touch?”
“You don’t, Cal.”
“I do,” I said, my voice dripping with desperation. “I had Lina when we were kids, and I cut her loose like she was extra baggage. And then with Claire—”
“What happened to Claire was not your fault.”
“Yes, it was,” I snarled. I hadn’t meant to, but the sound came out of me anyway.
My father didn’t flinch or shy away. He just closed his eyes, took a breath, and opened them again. “Claire’s death was a terrible accident. Nobody was at fault. You hear me? Not a damn person. There was nothing that could have been done to save her.”
“I could have saved her.”
My father shook his head. “No, Cal. Death is greedy. When it comes, it doesn’t spare anyone. Claire was just supremely unlucky to have been on the road that night.” He slid the scotch back to me.
I polished off the rest of the glass and put it back down on the coffee table, hard. Memories of the night I’d found out my wife had died flickered in my mind. The cop who showed up at my door had her scarf in his hands. A yellow scarf. It had been stained with her blood. I couldn’t wash it out.
Lightning had struck a telephone pole, and it fell across her windshield when she was driving home. The electricity killed her instantly. The medical professionals assured me she wouldn’t have felt a thing. She might not have even been aware that it had happened.
Secretly, I had always believed they only told me that to make me feel better.
“Cal?” my father asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
I lifted my gaze to meet his.
“You do not destroy everything you touch. You still have me. And you’ve been a wonderful father to Asher. He’s an incredible little boy because of you. And you help people at your firm every day. You’re a good man. A man I am proud to call my son. You made mistakes with Lina, but people make mistakes. The good news is you can learn from this. Let go. Move on. Hold well wishes in your heart for her.”
I buried my face in my hands and shook my head. “Fuck.”
My father chuckled, and I peered at him through my fingers.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Fuck. It’s the only word in the dictionary that can express every human emotion. And it really is perfect for this moment. Fuck.”
I slumped back on the couch and felt a weak smile tugging at my lips as I nodded. “Fuck.”
32
LINA
I had tried to convince Nick to drop me off at the first motel we passed. It was a little run down, sure, but I wanted to get out of his car as soon as possible. I couldn’t stand to let him see me cry, and the way he turned on the radio and cranked the volume so I could just let it out without my sobs filling up the car was kind. It made me cry harder. Maybe that was what he wanted. As a dad, he must know that sometimes, you just have to get it all out, snot bubbles and all.
He flat out refused to leave me at that seedy motel. He told me to sit tight. He knew the place he was taking me to, and it wasn’t far.
He ended up parking in front of a much nicer, cleaner, modern building. It was a big place with four stories and big balconies on every room. He walked me into the lobby, and when I tried to book a room and the girl behind the desk asked for my identification, I faltered.
Nick took over, booked the room, and paid for it. I insisted he let me cover the cost, but he wouldn’t hear it. When I explained I had no idea how many nights I’d need to be there, Nick said it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I was comfortable. He left his credit card information at the front desk and told them to charge everything I ordered up to my room to his card.
When I got my head on straight, I would have to find a way to thank him for his generosity.
He left me with a hug and told me everything would be okay. He patted my back in a paternal sort of way, and when I held on to him for a minute longer, he didn’t say anything. He just stood there and held me like he knew how badly I needed it.
And God, did I need it.
I had never felt so alone.
