Two knocks sound on the edge of the door as I shut my suitcase, zipping it shut.
“Come in,” I say, as my mom peeks her head into my room.
Her long brown hair is pulled up high in a ponytail. We spent most of the past month getting everything cleared out of the house to prepare for her to sell the house. This last weekend I finally went through all my stuff I kept here when I went away to college and decided what was worth keeping and taking with me to Chicago. Aside from some of the keepsakes my mom offered to hold onto for me, the rest is getting packed up in boxes as I get ready for the trip back to Chicago later today.
“How is packing coming along?” she asks. She’s dressed in a pair of track shorts and a tank top. She’s been spending most of the morning repainting the living room to prepare for Monday when the realtor stops by to take pictures of the house. This is likely the last time I’ll be in this house and the thought has me a little nostalgic.
Careful of where she steps, she maneuvers through the room toward where I’m sitting and takes a seat next to me on the edge of my unmade bed.
“Good, I think I’m almost done.”
I pat the beads of sweat on my forehead on the sleeve of my t-shirt, heaving my suitcase off the bed and onto the floor.
“This is the last of it I think,” I say, looking around the bare room.
I understand why she’s selling it. The house was already too much space when it was just her, my dad and I living here. Now that she’s here by herself, it’s more space than she could ever need. Although she would never admit it, I got the feeling the walls felt like an echo of the past she was ready to leave behind. In a way it felt like we were closing the chapter on that part of our lives.
It was about a week after I walked in on her and David, who I now know as her boyfriend, before she finally revealed the truth behind her motivation to move. She was finally ready to move on with someone who made her happy and hearing that made me happy for her. It was time for us both to close this chapter together.
“Have you spoken to your father and told him you’re leaving?” she asks. As hard as their separation was, it was my mom who has encouraged me to reach out to him and try to heal our relationship.
“He called a little bit ago, but I didn’t answer.”
“Brea, honey, you really should see him before you leave, or at least call him. I think it would be good if the two of you talked.” I let out a sigh, not wanting to do this with him while knowing she’s right. “He deserves to hear the truth behind how you feel.”
“I’ve tried talking to him about it. It’s like he doesn’t even hear what I’m saying. I don’t want to go over to his house, nor do I want to meet his happy little family. To be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”
“They’re your family, too, Brea. Regardless of your father’s poor decisions, it’s not Kyla and Kaden’s fault,” she says, referring to my twin brother and sister. I’ve heard about them and even seen pictures of them the last time I was out to lunch with my dad. I know it’s not their fault, but something about meeting them feels like I’m betraying my mom.
As if she can read my mind, she says, “Healing this part of you, Brea, does not mean you are disloyal to me.”
I feel the tears well up in my eyes as I hear her voice the one fear that has been holding me back from moving forward.
“I just can’t forgive him for what he’s done to you, to our family. The hurt he has created and left in his wake,” I say, running my finger underneath the brim of my eye wiping away an errant tear.
“I think you’ve carried far too much with you that wasn’t your burden to carry, sweetie. You were older and it’s hard to keep things from you, but I’m sorry you had to go through this with me. One thing I’ve learned through all of this as even the people you don’t think have earned it, deserve forgiveness. Not for them, not because they deserve to have their mistakes overlooked, but because sometimes the only way for you to heal is to let go of the anger and hurt you’re carrying. Forgiveness isn’t about them, it’s for you.”
She doesn’t continue to push me or say anything more as she stands up and wraps her arms around my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug. I fight off the tears that threaten to spill down my face, but it’s no use.
The woman standing before me has been through so much the past four years. Hearing her say she has forgiven my dad and is moving on goes to show her true strength.
“I’m going to miss you, sweetheart,” she whispers in my ear. “It’s been so nice having you home but I want you to remember no matter where I live, you’ll always have a place to stay.” With that, she leans back and gives me a big smile before turning and walking out of the room.
Taking a deep breath, I pick up my phone and scroll through my missed calls, finding my dad’s name. Before I change my mind, I click on my father’s name and raise the phone to my ear. It rings twice before he answers.
“Brea, what a wonderful surprise. How are you?” he asks. His rough voice is reminding me all too much of the man I knew growing up.
“I’m okay,” I say, letting out a sigh. The emotions rolling through me make my voice sound like I’m croaking. “Do you have time today to meet for lunch?”
“You’re in town?” he asks, sounding surprised.
“Uh, yeah,” I say, not wanting to tell him the reason why I was home for the summer. “I’m getting ready to head to Chicago though later today. If you’re free, I was thinking we could meet before I head back.”
“Yeah, sure. Of course.”
We make plans to meet for lunch in two hours, which gives me plenty of time to finish loading up the rest of the boxes, shower, and get ready. All this packing and moving stuff has left me sticky with sweat. I promised Mason I would be home in time for our pizza date with Lissa and Graham.
As if on cue, a text from Mason comes through my phone.
Mason: I’m counting down the minutes until you’re here. I can’t wait to see you.
We’ve spent most of the summer texting and FaceTiming each other. Thank goodness, I am on an unlimited plan because between my nightly calls with Mason and my two hour long catch-up sessions with Lissa, I’ve been putting some miles on this bad boy.
An hour and a half later, I’m wrapping my arms around my mom’s waist as we say our goodbyes. She makes me promise I’ll come visit her for Thanksgiving or Christmas, and I reassure her that I will, as well as calling her when I get back to town.
I pull up to the small Italian restaurant, Portobello, a little bit later. Portobello has the most delicious food, and anytime I make it to this side of town, I like to try and stop for lunch. The rain has started to pick up over the last hour, leaving the sky a murky gray. Keeping my head tilted down, I quickly swing my door open and make the run toward the front door of the restaurant.
The aroma hits me as soon as I open the door, causing my stomach to growl. It dawns on me that with a long list of things to get done before I hit the road, I didn’t even take time to eat breakfast this morning. My eyes scan the tables looking for my father. When his head tilts up and he sees me, his eyes light up as he waves at me.
I flash him a weak smile, as I make my way over to where he’s seated facing the door.
“Hey, Brea.” His warm smile greets me. I can’t help but feel the twinge of sadness at how familiar and different this seems.
“Hello,” I mutter, sliding into the seat across from him.
“This is such a pleasant surprise. I didn’t even know you were in town. When did you get here?”
I should’ve thought about this question before I got here, how I would answer it. Then I remember what my mom said earlier, how he deserves to hear how I’m feeling.
“A few months ago,” I say, clearing my throat. “Um, the end of May actually.”
I see his eyes widen in shock as his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Oh, I had no idea.”
“It’s okay, how could you? It’s not like we’ve talked or anything.”
“Yeah,” he says, letting my response hang in the air.
The waitress walks over to our table and asks if any other guests will be joining us before taking our order. I almost wish she’d stay because the moment she walks away, I feel the awkwardness of this lunch settle in.
“So, what’s new? How are things going?”
“Not much, just getting ready to move back to Chicago for the school year. I’m starting my senior year so after this year I’ll have my Bachelor’s Degree in Elementary School Education.”
“Wow, that’s really great, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you. I always knew you’d work with kids. You’re so great with them.”
“Thanks.”
I can tell already this conversation is going to be hard. I feel my palms sweat as I run through all the things I want to say, but am not sure how to put it out there. Running my hands along my thighs, I try to wipe away the moisture as I peer out the window. The rain has started to fall heavily, beating down on the roof of the restaurant.
“How are you and the family?” I ask. The question was intended to be genuine but even the words come out snarky to my own ears.
“I’m doing good, we’re…” he pauses, and I sense his hesitation to continue. “We are all doing good.”
Nodding my head, I force a smile on my face. “That’s good,” I retort. Immediately I wish I would’ve never called him and asked to do this. I understand what my mom said when she told me he deserves to hear how I feel, but honestly sometimes I feel like he doesn’t deserve to hear from me at all. I can forgive him, release myself from that burden, without having to sit at this table and look him in the face.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, the hesitation still clear, and I almost want to laugh. The man who I grew up looking up to, who I was certain didn’t fear anything, is sitting here holding a conversation with me like one wrong move could send the whole world crashing down around him.
Isn’t that funny though? Isn’t that what he did to us when he decided to serve my mom with divorce papers without any indication they were coming? Come to think of it, I don’t think he’s ever stood up to impact his actions like the rest of us have had to. Instead, he hid behind lawyers and text messages.
“It will be,” I say. The words are spoken with absolute conviction. “Why did you do it?”
His eyes narrow, as if he’s waiting for me to say more, as if hoping there’s more to the question or maybe he’s wishing he didn’t hear me at all.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Do what exactly?”
“Oh, spare me! You know exactly what I’m talking about so don’t play coy. I can’t sit here in this restaurant and do this lunch with you without putting this out there. Why did you have an affair? Why did you not only start a family with someone else, but hide it from the family you already had? Why let us all go the past seventeen years living a fucking lie?”
“Watch your mouth,” he spits, looking around the restaurant. His face turns red in embarrassment. “If you want to do this here, right now, you’ll speak to me with respect. Do you understand?”
I can’t help but throw my head back and laugh. “We’re going to talk about respect? Really?” I laugh again. Very rarely do I ever get pushed to the point where I react like I want to this second. The last time was when I walked in on Kaleb with that girl and even then, I was struck frozen, unable to form words.
I’m done being a pushover, letting people walk over me and my emotions. More importantly, I’m done letting my fear that I’ll end up heartbroken if I ever let someone close to me again keep me away from moving forward in my life with Mason.
“Answer the question,” I say flatly.
“It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way, okay? This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes at the sudden emotion on his face.
“Fine, you want to know the truth? I’ll give you the truth, Brea. I was in love with Patricia from the moment I first met her.” I feel my body turn to ice as I look at him. My eyes narrow once again as I watch him fold the wrapper of his straw between his fingers. “Like I said, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. We met when I was just a junior in high school; she was a sophomore. She was a new student that school year and I remember when I first saw her it was like she was the only person who existed.”
“Get to the fucking point already.”
“Brea,” he commands, not liking my attitude.
“I don’t give a shit how the two of you met. I really don’t.”
“You asked so I’m telling you. Now if you want to hear it, you’ll shut your mouth and listen to me.”
Sitting against the seat of the booth, I cross my arms in front of my chest and wait for him to continue. It’s that moment when the waitress approaches the table bringing both our entrees and drinks. I can tell she was waiting for the best time to interrupt us, and I feel bad for making this uncomfortable for her. I flash her a small smile as a thank her as she nods her head and walks away.
I take a bite of my food but with my stomach tied up in knots, now I can’t even eat. I set my fork down on my plate as I take a drink of my water, waiting for him to continue.
“Patricia was younger than me so when it came time for me to head off to college, it put a lot of strain on our relationship. I was in my first year of pre-med and the class workload was more than I could carry. She was enjoying her senior year of high school, getting ready to graduate, going to prom, that sort of thing. She wanted me to be there for all these things, but I kept failing. Everything was falling through. She told me she wanted someone who was going to be there for her through the hard times and she left.”
“I hadn’t spoken to her in over two years when I met your mother. She looked a lot like you do today with long brown hair down to the middle of her back. Her big green eyes were so full of life, I couldn’t help but fall in love with her. It was like I forgot everything around me when she was near me. We dated all throughout our senior year of college. We were only a few months away from graduating when we found out she was pregnant with you. All that kept playing through my head was what Patricia said to me that day when we broke up, that she wanted someone who was going to be there for her through the hard times. I didn’t want to lose your mom so I proposed and it was a month after graduation when we got married.
I knew my parents weren’t expecting to get pregnant when they found out about me. Although I was a surprise, they always told me I was a blessing to them.
“Although I knew I still loved Patricia, I knew that a life with your mother would make me happy. I didn’t speak to Patricia until you were about six years old. Your grandfather was not doing well; they thought he had a heart attack. He was too young to be having any health problems so I flew home to be with him. I felt if I was there, I would be able to talk to the doctors and really understand what was going on. I wasn’t expecting to see her that night, and it was never supposed to happen how it did.”
Looking up at me, he says, “I loved you and your mother, but I… I loved Patricia, too. So, imagine my surprise when she walked into the hospital room. She was the nurse at the hospital. We had gotten some bad news about your grandfather that day, and when I was standing in the hallway, she comforted me. She offered to take me across the street to a small pub in town for a drink.”
I sense where this conversation is going and I want to stop him. Holding my hand up, I interject, “You can spare me all the unnecessary details. I know what happens from here. You cheated on my mother and she got pregnant.”
“Brea, you have to know it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I swear to you.”
“Yeah, that’s what you keep saying but it sounds like a load of shit to me. You had the choice of going with her to that bar, and you had a choice to fall into bed with her. Those were choices you made and because of your LIES, you’ve torn our family apart. Was it worth it?”
“I hate how it happened, Brea. I really do, but I’ve always loved Patricia and in the back of my mind, there was always the hope we would one day be together again. I know I’m going to hurt you, but you are asking for the truth and I want to give that to you. I don’t want to bring you or your mother any more pain than I already have.”
“When Kyla and Kaden were born, I knew I couldn’t walk away from them. I just had gotten so caught up in everything, it broke my heart to think about hurting your mother or leaving you. Patricia and the kids ended up moving closer to Columbus, which is where Patricia works now. We talked about me separating from your mom but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. There were times where we split up, she hated knowing what we were doing and, again, wanted someone who was going to be there through the hard times. For about six years, we had split up and communicated only about the children. I would take trips to spend time with them, but it was hard. It was hard being near her and knowing that after all this time, there were unresolved feelings there between us.”
Hearing him mention Columbus brings back all the memories of when he would go away on work trips. It’s about two and a half hours away from where we lived, but he always said it was just easier with the long days at the hospital to stay there and travel home on the weekends.
“I didn’t want to put you through a divorce while you were still in high school. I know when everything came out, it would be hard on both you and your mom. I fully planned to wait until you were eighteen, but then your mom found out, although there were times I thought she knew all along. I just got sick of all the lies and secrets. By some miracle, Patricia still wanted to be with me. The twins had just turned eleven and were starting to ask questions. So, I took the only way out that I knew and filed for divorce.”
Folding my arm around my waist, I rub the pad of my finger along my lower lip. I struggle with the urge to tell my father what I think of him as I bite down on the edge of my fingernail.
“This doesn’t change the way I feel about you or what you did. If anything, this only makes me angrier,” I breathe out, looking out the window at the rain falling steadily on the ground. “I don’t think I’ll ever want to meet her or your kids. I know it’s not their fault, but you can’t expect me to want to play family with them. They are not family. I appreciate you finally telling the truth; it’s about time I heard it. At this point, I don’t know if or when I’ll be ready to talk to you again. I just need some time and space. I understand you loved her and you wanted to be with her, but you didn’t have to go through all of this and hurt these people in the process.”
I reach over and take a long drink of my water before setting the glass on the table. “I’m going to go. I am not feeling very hungry now. I’ll probably just get a sandwich when I’m on the road.”
Sliding out of the booth, I stand and turn around to face my father. I see the heart break and regret on his face. I remember the one thing my mom said to me this morning.
“I need you to know I forgive you, and it’s not because you deserve it. I need to forgive you for me because, at this point, it’s my only hope I have of moving on. I hope you also find a way to forgive yourself, too.”
Walking out of the restaurant, I take a deep breath. Despite the information shared with me today, I can’t help but breathe a little easier as the weight is lifted off my chest.
Sometimes to heal, you need to let go of the anger and hurt that you’re carrying.