When Jasmine told me Jose was leaving town, I seriously didn’t doubt it. Jose seemed like an unbreakable man, but men like that were always brittle on the inside. The rock exterior was a callus around a tender, vulnerable heart.

When I was a little boy, I had a Corgi named, Memphis. All I had were two little sisters, so Memphis became my little brother. Memphis and I were inseparable. When he died unexpectedly, my little seven-year-old heart shattered. My parents let me mourn, but after a few months, we had a new Corgi, named Nash.

I wouldn’t pet or play with Nash, announcing to my parents that I would never love another puppy again. I remember my parents exchanging looks with each other at the dinner table but not pressing the subject further.

It was difficult to be around Nash because as a little kid, I wanted to play with him badly, but I wouldn’t let myself. What if something happened to Nash too? I couldn’t let myself fall into that trap again.

Tucking me into bed that night, my father told me that if I had another puppy, it didn’t mean I didn’t love Memphis anymore. He explained that when a heart breaks, it will eventually heal and be ready to love again.

That night, I snuck out of bed. I scooped Nash up and brought him upstairs. Under my blanket with my flashlight, I played with my new puppy, allowing myself to feel the happiness I once had with Memphis. Soon, Nash and I became buddies just as close as Memphis and I were.

When Nash died, I was a senior in high school. I was prepared for it since, by that time, Nash was fairly old. Nonetheless, my heart broke again, but I was glad I let Nash in. I was glad my dad told me it was okay to love again. Jose needed someone to tell him that.

I was probably not the best person to talk to Jose about love and healing, but I loved Jasmine. If her father took off because of our relationship, Jasmine would be devastated. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

I left Jasmine at the restaurant in a hurry. There was no time to waste. Jose was a man who acted quickly and irrationally. After the last time I tried to talk to Jose, I decided storming up to the house mad as hell wasn’t going to work with the man. This time I was going to try a softer gentler approach.

When I pulled up to the Fontaine’s driveway, I saw Jose’s Escalade still there. Relief flooded my veins, empowering me. There was still a chance I could talk him out of taking off.

I walked up to the front door remembering the last time I’d been there. Telling myself to not make the same mistakes again, I knocked on the door. No one answered. I waited a few minutes, knocking again, but still, no one answered.

Worry swelled in my chest. Why wasn’t he answering the door? I knocked again more insistently. What if Jose was inside, hurting himself? Backing up from the door, I braced my right shoulder for the impact.

Suddenly, it dawned on me that there might be a better way. I checked the doorknob. It was unlocked. Relieved I didn’t have to break down the man’s door; I rushed inside. I passed through the front room, searching for him. The large family portrait that hung there was toppled over onto the floor. I stepped over the Fontaine’s faces gazing up at me from the floor, listening for any movement in the house.

Above my head, the chandelier swayed. Then, I heard it. A booming grumble followed by a loud crash. I rushed up the stairs afraid of what I might see when I got there. I prayed Jose was okay.

On the second floor, I followed the groans rumbling out of a room to the right. I sprinted inside. An oil painting of Jasmine’s mother was thrown to the floor. A tangle of jewelry, rings with large glittering stones, diamond and emerald necklaces, ruby encrusted bracelets, littered the floor. Women’s clothing and accessories: Louis Vuitton and Gucci handbags, fur coats, and gowns were scattered about. A suitcase packed haphazardly with men’s dress shirts, and slacks was open on top of the bed.

I followed a scattered trail of Jimmy Choo shoes coming from a walk-in closet. Inside the expansive his and hers closet, Jose stood next to a hole in the wall clutching his right hand. The closet was ransacked. If clothes weren’t on the floor, they hung precariously from mangled hangers. Jose’s suits were crumpled and in various stages of disarray.

Jose looked up with a pained face. The knuckles on his hand were purple and swollen. I said calmly to him, “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Jose, stunned by the pain or by my sudden appearance said nothing, just nodding his head numbly.

Running downstairs to the kitchen, with sadness, I thought of all women’s clothing and accessories that were strewn on the floor. Jose’s wife left more than a decade ago, not bothering to collect her jewels and designer clothing, and Jose never threw them out. He got dressed every morning next to the discarded things of a woman he still loved. I grimaced at this thought.

Quickly, I found a Ziploc bag in a kitchen drawer and filled it with ice. From the window in the kitchen, I saw the oxen contentedly grazing, unaware of the Fontaine family’s brewing troubles. I sprinted upstairs two steps at a time. When I got back to the closet, Jose sat on an ash grey ottoman, his hurt hand, limp in his lap. He sat staring off into space, hardly moving.

I handed him the ice bag and watched as he gingerly placed it on his swollen hand. He regarded me dolefully. “Thank you.”

I didn’t wait, I just went for it, “Mr. Fontaine, you’re making a huge mistake.”

He looked up at me; his eyes were vacant. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

I shrugged, looking at his suits dangling from their hangers. “We all have. I made a mistake coming in here last time demanding things from Jasmine and your family without bothering to have a proper discussion with you first.”

Jose’s eyes trailed down to the floor. He kicked a box of Louboutin shoes. “It doesn’t matter anymore. My children have lost respect for me. They don’t need me.” He looked up sadly. “In the end, you got what you wanted.”

Shaking my head, I wanted to plead with him, but Jose continued. “I loved their mother so much.” He chuckled bitterly. “I thought she was happy being my partner in life and our business.” His eyes narrowed in recollection. “But, she just fell out of love with me. Said this life wasn’t enough for her.” He sighed. “Our family was just not enough for her.”

Jose looked so defeated. “I’m sorry, but this is not what I wanted. I had no intention of breaking your family up. I just want to be with Jasmine. I just want her to be happy. That’s been my goal this entire time.”

He let out a solemn sigh. “Well, nothing would make Jasmine happier than if I disappeared from their lives. Both my children don't want anything to do with me."

“That isn’t true. They do. They need you.”

“They don’t need me.” He took the ice pack off his hand. Flexing and extending his fingers, he winced in pain. “I can’t do anything right!” He put the ice pack back on his hand.

I held my arms up. “You built this beautiful home.” I pointed to the right. “And your legendary oxen.”

Jose pointed the other way. “The oxen are to the East from where we are.”

I corrected my direction. “Yes. East. That way.”

“The oxen are so much easier to raise than my own children. You know the basic rules for raising livestock and letting them go when it’s time to. But, my own kids, I don’t know when it’s time to let them go. Are they ready? I don’t know. What are the signs?” He shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m not a father, but I coach toddlers in soccer. I love those kids. When a kid is ready to move up to the next level, I’ve got to let him move up, right? He can’t be ten years old playing soccer tots. I miss the kids that have left me, but inevitably it’s for their benefit.” I paused, hoping Jose wasn’t thinking I was an idiot for comparing coaching to being a father. “I’m just a coach, but you’re their father. You can let go a little at a time and be there whenever they need you.”

Jose stared down at the array of shoes scattered about the floor. “They aren’t kids anymore. Jasmine is 21 and Joseph is 19.”

Shaking my head, I chuckled. “I’m 21 and still need my parents. I talk to my parents all the time. It’s important to me to always have my parents support in everything I do. Jasmine and Joseph both need you, especially since their mother isn’t here.”

Jose’s face winced at the mention of their mother, but he said nothing.

I stood, extending my hand to Jose. “They need you.”

Looking me in the eye, man to man, Jose shook my hand with his unhurt left hand. “Thank you.” He still looked deflated, but the anger had drained from his face.

“I hope to see you again,” I said with urging in my voice.

Jose nodded noncommittally. His face was impassive like a stone. I couldn’t tell if I’d changed his mind or not.

Climbing through a jumbled mixture of Jose and his wife’s clothes, I walked out of the bedroom. I softly closed the door, hoping Jose seriously considered everything I said, but doubting he would listen to a kid like me for parenting advice. I wasn’t even a parent.

I drove straight home from the Fontaine house. I couldn’t face Jasmine. She had never gotten over her mother’s absence. Her father was leaving town, and it was all my fault.