Page 99 of The Relationship Clause

And I do want to make things better. Eventually.

He is my dad, after all.

So, I decided while I was in the shower that I’ll try. I’ll be civil. But if he tries to say those things to me again, I won’t take it. I’ll throw him out of my house. Or have Owen do it if I have to. I hope it doesn’t come to that.

I take a deep breath, staring at myself in the mirror. Owen comes behind me, sweeping my hair to the side and kissing my neck. I sigh, letting his warm arms circle me and soaking in all of his positive energy.

“I’m proud of you,” he says. “You can do this.”

Out in the living room, music is playing from a portable speaker, and everyone is talking and eating. As I walk through them, they say hi and comment on how nice the house is and how they particularly like this or that feature. Eventually, I make it through them and to my dad who is chatting with Pete.

When he sees me, though, he immediately stops talking. Pete claps him on the shoulder and excuses himself. Owen squeezes my hand, then he’s gone too. It’s Dad and me in this little corner of my house while everyone else politely ignores us.

I clear my throat. “Hi, Dad. Um, I thought you were in Finland or something.”

“Norway. Exploring some old Viking villages.” He shakes his head. “But that’s not important. What’s important is… Junie, I…” He trails off, and then suddenly, he’s hugging me.

Really hugging me.

I’m too stunned to react at first, my arms hanging limply at my sides.

“I’m so sorry, Junebug.” His voice is muffled against me, but despite that, I can still hear the emotion choking his throat. “I’m sorry for everything I said, everything I did. Not just back in February, either.”

He lets go and backs away suddenly, as if afraid I’ll be upset at him all over again.

“You were right about everything. I didn’t put you first, and I unintentionally taught you not to trust people. I was hurt by what your mom did to us, what she did to me, but that doesn’t excuse what I did. I hurt you. More than I ever even realized. And then you tried to tell me how happy you were, and I wouldn’t even listen. I was thinking of myself again and letting my own stupid issues get to me. I was selfish again.”

He goes silent, eyes on the floor, and I notice again all the little wrinkles on his face. Deep grooves beside the corners of his mouth, small ones beside his eyes, and long lines across his forehead. I always thought they were smile lines from years of living his life the way he wanted to and never letting anyone or anything stop him. But now I see that although many of them were probably formed from joy, they are also there from sorrow. Deep, heart-wrenching sadness that goes deeper than any physical wound could go.

Here is a man who was hurt so badly, he could never truly recover. A man who had to hide his despair from his only daughter, who he had to care for and raise on his own.

I always thought he was invincible.

But it turns out, he’s as easily wounded as I am.

I cross my arms over my chest. “You should have gotten help instead of moving us around all the time.”

Dad nods, tears in his eyes. “I know. I know, Junebug. But I was stubborn. I lied to myself for a long time, telling myself I was happy and it was better that way. I told myself you’d be alright. That the way I was raising you would actually do you more good than bad. But I realize now that I was wrong.”

I look down at the floor, rubbing my socked toe against an invisible scuff mark. “It wasn’t all bad, you know. I didn’t turn out all bad.”

“No, you sure didn’t. But I’d be willing to bet you turned out so well in spite of me, not because of me.”

Tears sting my eyes and nose. I blink rapidly. “That’s not true.”

“No need to try and spare my feelings now, Juniper Tree.” Dad steps forward and places a light kiss on the top of my head. “I’ve been sufficiently humbled and am now well aware of my shortcomings. I only wish it didn’t take me so long to realize them.”

I keep my arms wrapped tightly around my chest, unsure how to answer.

After a long moment, Dad sighs. “I need to catch another plane. It’s alright if you’re not ready to forgive me yet. I… If I call, will you at least answer next time?”

I sniffle and nod.

From the corner of my eye, I see him nod too. Then, after another brief, one-sided hug, he walks away and out of my house.

Owen is at my side immediately. His hands rub my arms up and down, up and down. “Junie? You alright?”

I nod, then shake my head, then nod again. The tears won’t be held back any longer, and they flow down my cheeks. Owen hands me a tissue, and I blow my nose, but I can’t stop crying. My chest hurts, and regret floods me.

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