Natalie
I worry my lower lip between my teeth as I rush across campus. I’ve been dreading my ten o’clock finance class for obvious reasons. I haven’t run into Brody since he left my apartment a few nights ago. After a little more than a month together, his absence from my life has left a huge void that feels impossible to fill.
Just as class is about to get underway, I slip into the room and take a seat in the back row. As I take out my materials, I glance around, searching for Brody. Now that we’re no longer together, I expect everything to morph back to the way it used to be. Which means Kimmie should be parked next to him, chattering away.
My eyes settle on Kimmie, but he’s not there.
It takes a few more minutes to realize that Brody isn’t anywhere in the small lecture hall. But he’s got to show up, right? This is one of his borderline classes. After fifteen minutes slowly trickle by, it becomes apparent that he isn’t going to show up at all.
My dread turns into concern. It’s not like Brody to skip class. I may not have realized it before, but Brody’s grades mean a lot to him. He did really well on the last finance test and was able to raise his grade to a low B, which gives him a little bit of breathing room. We may have broken up, and he might not want to see me, but I have a difficult time believing he would jeopardize getting benched.
As soon as Dr. Miller dismisses us, I fly through the door and out of the building. I slide my phone from my bag and stare at it, wondering if I should reach out and make sure everything’s okay. But I can’t imagine that Brody wants to hear from me. For any reason. So, I reluctantly slide the phone back into my pocket and keep moving.
Zara’s words have been churning in my head since our talk. Did I make the right decision in letting Brody go? Should I have told him about his dad’s visit?
I don’t know.
It may not seem like it, but what I did came from a good place. I want only the best for Brody. If anyone deserves success, it’s him. The last thing I want to do is stand in the way of that.
As I haul ass past the union, trying to decide what my next step is, my eyes get snagged by a familiar face. His presence is so unexpected and out of place on campus that I grind to a halt. I blink, half-wondering if I’m hallucinating. Our gazes stay locked as my dad rises from the bench he’s seated on and gives me a tentative wave in greeting.
I hitch my bag higher on my shoulder and force myself to close the distance between us. I haven’t spoken to Dad since the restaurant incident with his fiancée.
I don’t understand what he’s doing here, of all places.
“Hello, Nat,” he says when I stop a few feet from him.
“Hi.” I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other, wishing there was a way to fill the lengthening silence now stretching between us. I hate that this is what it’s come to.
“Do you have some time for us to talk?” There’s a hopeful note threading its way through his voice.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to lie, to tell him that I’m on my way to a class…but I can’t. As angry as I still am, he’s here. Making an effort. Can I really brush that off?
Maybe hashing things out is exactly what needs to happen. We’ve both had some time to cool down. More than that, I hate that we’re not talking. Before the separation, we were close. The yawning gulf that exists between us is painful.
I nod. “I have a little bit of time.”
His lips lift in relief. Some of the tension seeps from his body as his shoulders relax. “Good. Do you want to go somewhere else or,” he points to the bench he had been occupying, “sit here and talk? I’ll do whatever’s easiest for you.”
I glance around. Tons of people are rushing past us on their way to class or stopping at the union for lunch. This is the last place I want to have a heart-to-heart conversation with Dad. I think we need a little more privacy than this area affords.
I point in the direction I’d been rushing. “There are some tables near Hamlin Hall, at the edge of campus, where we can talk.” I shrug. “It’s more private.”
“Okay, that sounds good,” Dad agrees.
We fall in line with one another and walk in silence. There are no two ways about it—this sucks. Our relationship is no longer easy and effortless the way it used to be. Instead, it’s strained and stifling.
We reach Hamlin Hall, which has a large assortment of tables scattered across the front lawn where students can eat lunch or study. Picking one that’s away from other people, I plunk my bag down on the metal top and take a seat. My dad slides across from me. He fidgets for a few minutes before resting his elbows on the table and threading his fingers tightly together. He stares down at them as if he’s gathering his courage.
If I weren’t so nervous, I’d smile. Guess I’m not the only one with a tell.
“First of all, I want to apologize for what happened at the restaurant,” Dad says, looking me in the eyes. “In hindsight, I realize that inviting Bridgette to have dessert with us and not telling you about it was the wrong way to go about things. It never occurred to me that you might feel ambushed, and I’m sorry for that.”
I shake my head and ask, “How did you see that situation playing out?” I mean, did he seriously think his homewrecking fiancée would sit down with us and all my anger and sadness would just disappear? Or that I’d just magically be over it?
He opens his mouth and snaps it shut again, shrugging his shoulders. He taps his fingers against the metal tabletop. “I don’t know,” he finally murmurs. “But not like that.”
I lean toward him as anger and hurt bubble up within me. Ever since he walked out, these feelings have been my constant companion. They’re exhausting. Instead of losing my temper, I inhale a deep, calming breath and slowly release it. “I understand that you’ve moved on, Dad, but I haven’t. I’m still processing the fact that you and Mom aren’t getting back together.” I gulp and force out the rest. “My family has splintered apart, and you’re moving on with your life like it’s no big deal.”
“I’m sorry, Nat.” His hand slowly slides across the table until he’s able to slip my fingers into his. When I don’t pull them away, he squeezes them tight. “You’re the last person I ever want to hurt. You mean everything to me.”
You’d think after ten months that the pain of their separation wouldn’t feel so fresh, but it does. I don’t want to get emotional about this, but it’s hard to keep the tears at bay.
Even though I know it’s not going to happen, I can’t help but say wistfully, “I wish there was a way for you and Mom to work things out.”
Again, he squeezes my fingers. His eyes become shiny and full of emotion. It’s difficult to witness. And yet it feels good. Kind of like ripping off a Band-Aid. “I wish it could be that way, too. Deciding to leave wasn’t an easy decision. I spent years thinking about it, Nat. Years,” he emphasizes. His gaze searches mine for understanding. “This was way before Bridgette ever came into the picture.” His shoulders collapse under the weight of his words. “I should have left earlier. But you were still living at home, and maybe I was hoping your mother and I could work through the problems we were having.”
Everything about this moment feels raw and painful. As much as I appreciate his candor, it’s tough to hear. Tough to digest and accept. I glance away, unsure how to respond.
“I understand this has been a rough year for you and if I could go back and change that, I would. I hate that any of my decisions have caused you pain.” Dad gulps, his voice breaking with thick emotion. “I miss hanging out with you and hearing about everything that’s happening in your life. I’m missing out on so much right now. I want us to be close again.”
“I want that, too,” I whisper. Even though I’m still angry with him, I’ve missed Dad being a part of my life.
“I know my relationship with Bridgette is a sore spot for you. But I’m hopeful that given enough time, the three of us can get to a better place.”
Even though I can’t imagine that day ever coming, I keep those thoughts to myself. He’s here, and he’s trying to fix our relationship. I feel like I have to at least meet him halfway and be open to the idea. No matter how painful the notion is.
“I told Bridgette that we need to slow things down,” my father says, catching me by surprise.
My eyes fill with unshed tears that he’d actually do that. That Dad would put my feelings above his own. “And how did she take that?” Is it terrible that I hope she threw a hissy and told him to take a hike?
Probably, but I don’t care.
“She understood. She doesn’t want to get in the way of our relationship.” He smiles just a bit. “I think she was just a little overeager to meet you.” He shakes his head and admits, “I should have put a stop to it, and I didn’t. That’s on me.”
As much as it pains me to admit it, even privately to myself, maybe the woman isn’t all that bad. Although I reserve the right to withhold judgment for a later date.
“I want us to spend time together,” Dad says.
Even though it’s childish and I’m not proud of myself for it, I ask, “Alone?”
The corners of his lips hitch upward, and he sighs. “Yes, alone. Until you’re ready, I won’t mention Bridgette, okay?” He glances at our entwined hands. “But you need to understand that I love her, Nat. At some point, I’m going to marry her. If you’re not ready for that, we’ll hold off.” He gives me a hard look. “For the time being.”
I’d prefer he come back home and try to work things out with Mom, but I get it—that’s not going to happen.
I nod. “Okay.”
“Good.” He glances at his wristwatch. “Are you sure I can’t treat you to lunch? I have some time before I need to get back to the office.”
For the first time since running into Dad, I remember my concerns regarding Brody not showing up for class. I shake my head. “No, I’m sorry. There’s something I need to take care of.” As I rise from the bench and scoop up my bag, I ask, “How did you know where to find me?”
Whitmore’s campus is large and sprawling. Trying to find someone here can be like playing a game of Where’s Waldo.
“Your friend Brody told me where I could find you.”
I freeze. “Brody?”
“Yeah, he came to see me at my office. I have to admit that I was surprised at first, but he helped me to understand how hard you’ve been hit by all this.” Dad clears his throat. “I’m embarrassed to say that I hadn’t realized just how affected you were by the divorce. I thought because you were older, it would be easier for you to deal with. But that’s not the case, is it?”
I shake my head. No matter how old you are, when your family splits up, it hurts. But that’s not what I’m focused on at the moment. My knees give out, and I fall back onto the bench. “Brody came to see you?” I can’t believe he would do that.
He nods. “Yeah, he did.”
“When?” I can barely force out the word. My heart beats erratically under my breast.
“Yesterday,” Dad says. “We talked for about thirty minutes.”
Brody stopped by the day after we broke up? That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he do that?
Tears fill my eyes. I couldn’t stop them from falling if I tried.
“Nat?” Concerned, Dad asks, “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head and wipe the moisture from my eyes with the back of my hand. “Nothing.”
“That young man really cares about you,” he comments. “Is he your boyfriend?” He watches me carefully from across the table. I’m sure he’s trying to figure out what’s going on.
“No,” I whisper. “He’s not.” Saying those words feels like being knifed in the heart. Pain floods through every part of my body. For the second time, I bolt from the bench and gather up my bag. “I have to go, Dad. I’m sorry.”
He rises with me, his face marred with concern and confusion. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
My mind is so filled with Brody that I can barely concentrate on what he’s saying. “I’ll be fine.” I’m no more than a few steps away from him when I spin back around and blurt, “Is it possible for me to borrow your car?”
“Sure.” He doesn’t even hesitate, just fishes the keys from his pocket and throws them to me.
I catch them in my hand and start walking backward. “How will you get back to work?”
“I’ll Uber it.”
The edges of my lips lift. “Do you know how to do that?”
“I’ll figure it out.” He shrugs. “How difficult can it be?”
I smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
He points toward the street. “I’m parked up a block on Denison. Now, get moving. I’ll see you later when you drop the car off. Maybe then you can explain what’s going on.”
“I will!” With those words shouted over my shoulder, I take off running.
I only hope that when I find Brody, he’ll hear me out and give me a chance to explain. Maybe it’s too late for us to get back together, but he needs to know that my feelings run so much deeper than I let on.