Page 70 of Doctor One Night

The late afternoon sun filters through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground as I walk along the familiar path in the park. It’s quieter than usual today, the typical hum of joggers and dog walkers replaced by a gentle breeze rustling the leaves.

I asked my dad to meet me here. This park has become our place over the past couple of meetings, a neutral ground where we’ve been slowly getting to know each other.

As I round the bend, I see him sitting on the same bench where we we’ve met before, his hands clasped in his lap, head slightly bowed. He looks up as I approach, and his face breaks into a small, tentative smile. There’s something different in his expression today—something heavier.

“Hi, Dad,” I say, the word still foreign on my tongue, but less so than it did weeks ago.

“Hi, Frankie,” he replies, standing up as I reach him. He hesitates for a moment, then gestures to the bench. “Shall we sit?”

I nod, wishing we could walk to take away some of the awkwardness of sitting here together with nothing to occupy us but our words, or lack thereof. Perhaps he isn’t feeling well today and needs the rest. He appears a little more pale than the last time I saw him.

Quickly I sink onto the bench beside him, the warmth of the late afternoon sun on my back. There’s a tension in the air, unspoken things hanging between us, and I can tell this time is different. He isn’t his usual overcompensating self.

We sit in silence for a few moments, just listening to the sounds of the park, and then he takes a deep breath, turning to face me. “Frankie, there’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve been holding back because I wasn’t sure how to say it. But I think it’s time.”

A tight knot forms in my stomach, pulling tighter as I meet his gaze, the seriousness in his eyes telling me that whatever he’s about to say, it’s important. “Okay,” I say quietly, bracing myself.

He looks down at his hands, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before he begins. “When your mother and I were together, I wasn’t… I wasn’t the man I should have been. I had a problem, Frankie. An addiction. I was spending money we didn’t have on things we, as a family, didn’t need, and I wasn’t being the husband or the father that you and your mom deserved.”

His voice is steady, but there’s a tremor beneath it, a raw honesty that I haven’t heard from him before. I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling over me. “Addiction?”

He nods, his eyes still fixed on his hands. “I was an alcoholic and I had a gambling problem. I tried to stop, for your mom, for you, but the grip it had on me was too strong. I kept relapsing, kept making the same mistakes. Your mother gave me so many chances, more than I deserved. But in the end, she made the right decision for both of you. She asked me to leave.”

My heart pounds in my chest causing a mixture of emotions to swirl inside me—anger, sadness, confusion. “She didn’t tell me,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.

“She didn’t want you to know,” he says softly. “She was trying to protect you and your idea of me. I understand that now. But back then it felt like the end of everything. I tried to get clean, but I couldn’t do it on my own. By the time I finally did, years had passed, and by then I didn’t know how to find y’all.”

His voice breaks slightly, and I can see the pain in his eyes, the regret etched into every line of his face. “Once I finally tracked down an address, I sent cards, letters, I called. But everything was sent back, and the phone numbers were blocked. I don’t know if you remember, but when you were thirteen I came by, but your mom said it was best if I leave. By that point, it wasn’t my place to argue with her. When you moved, I didn’t know where you were. I wanted to be in your life, Frankie, but I didn’t know how.”

Tears well up in my eyes, and I blink them back, trying to process everything he’s telling me. “I thought… I thought you didn’t care,” I say, my voice trembling. “I thought you just left.”

“I never stopped caring,” he says urgently, reaching for my hand. “Not for a single day. I never forgot about you, Frankie. But I was a coward, and I didn’t fight hard enough to be in your life. And that’s something I’ll regret for eternity.”

I look down at our joined hands, his grip warm and steady, and for the first time, I see him—not just as the man who wasn’t there, but as a man who made mistakes, who’s spent years trying to atone for them. “I saw you on those commercials. You had a wife and children. It felt like you left us for a better life.”

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he fights back tears of his own. “I did remarry, and God blessed me with two other children. But none of them were a replacement for you. My sons are grown now, and I’m still married to a patient woman, but I never stopped loving your mom or you. I threw away my life without even realizing it.”

A tear slips down my cheek, and I don’t bother wiping it away. “I wasn’t,” I whisper. “I needed you. I needed my dad.”

“I’m so sorry, Frankie,” he says, his voice breaking completely now. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. That’s why I made it a mission to find you. When I was diagnosed with cancer it hit me that I might never get the chance to make things right, to tell you how much I love you, how much I’ve always loved you.”

I can’t hold back the tears anymore, and they flow freely down my face. The pain of all those years of feeling abandoned, of thinking I wasn’t enough, crashes over me, but with it comes a strange sense of relief. Because now I know—it wasn’t that he didn’t care. It was that he didn’t know how to be the father I needed in time.

Without thinking, I reach out and pull him into a hug, my arms wrapping around him tightly. He stiffens for a moment, surprised, but then he hugs me back, his embrace strong and trembling at the same time.

We sit like that for a long time, both of us crying, both of us healing, as the sun hides behind some clouds, giving a rare reprieve in the heat.

And for the first time in my life, I’m finally beginning to understand, to forgive, and to let go.

TWENTY-FOUR

Hunter

UAB Hospital

3:19 pm

“You, too, Mrs. Oppenstar. You keep getting healthier and you’ll be running circles around Dr. Duncan and me.”

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