Page 99 of Something Like Fate

Frustration builds in my throat. “See? This is exactly the problem. You don’t even listen. If you did, you’d know it has nothing to do with not applying myself and everything to do with the fact that I’ve never liked forensics!” I pause momentarily, only to catch my breath. “And you don’t have a leg to stand on, being mad at me for not telling you when you’ve been hiding a whole new relationship.”

“I understand why you’d feel hurt—”

“Do you really, though?” Based on how this whole conversation is going, I’d wager he’s still clueless.

“I’ve done extensive reading about how difficult it is for children of deceased parents when their living parent starts dating again.”

I shake my head, startled by how off the mark he is.

“I’ve tried for years to avoid this. To make sure you were happy and content. I never wanted to bring anyone else into our lives until you were older. But you have to understand that it’s healthy for me to finally move on. To have a companion—”

“Dad, you have no idea why I’m actually upset, do you?”

“Then tell me.”

“I don’t want to talk about this now. Please leave me alone.”

“I hoped you’d be happy for me.”

“It’s hard to be happy for you when you’re content to forget Mom.” The words leave a sting in my mouth as soon as they come out, like venom.

He winces.

“I’m sorry,” I say immediately. I’m officially an asshole. All these years, I’ve worried about what would happen if I left home. The idea of Dad being all by himself was crushing. And now, he’s found a companion, someone to keep him company, someone to eat dinner with whenI’m not there. I should be thrilled, not acting like a complete brat. “I don’t know why I said all that. Of course I want you to be happy. I was just ... surprised.”

He breaks, too, his expression a mixture of sadness and shame. “I’m sorry too. I do avoid talking about Mom. But I hope you know it’s not because I want to forget about her. It’s the opposite. It’s because I miss her so much that it’s painful to talk about her.”

Tears cascade over my lash lines before I have the chance to stop them. “I’m sorry, Dad. I get it.”

He pulls me into his chest. “But you’re right. It’s selfish of me to avoid talking about her. I just assumed it would make you sad too. I didn’t want you to grow up being constantly reminded of her absence.”

I pull back, wiping my tear-logged bangs away from my forehead. “I mean, I was anyways. Every time I’d go to a friend’s house, or whenever girls talked about shopping with their moms on the weekend or their moms helped them pick out a dress for semiformal. She died when I was so young. I have such a hard time remembering. Talking about her is the only proof I have that she was real.”

He nods. “I’m sorry, Lo. I promise to work on that. But believe me when I tell you, not talking about her has nothing to do with trying to forget her.”

“I know that. I really do want you to be happy. You deserve to find happiness after Mom.” And I mean it. My reaction was less about him moving on and more about being upset by my own situation.

He smiles and I think he’s holding back tears. “Thank you. And I hope you know I never meant to hide it from you. We only met a few months before you left for Italy, and I just wanted to make sure it was right before I told you.”

“Is it right?”

He smiles. “Yeah. It feels right.”

“Good.” I smile, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Knowing that Dad has someone who makes him genuinelyhappy makes me feel good. I lean forward. “Just promise not to like, make out in front of me and stuff.”

Dad puts his hand over his heart. “Solemnly swear. Though you’d have to actually be at home to make that promise.” His eyes well. I know me not coming home is killing him.

I hang my head. “I know I’m a huge disappointment.”

He sets a firm hand on my knee and looks me square in the eye. “You’ve never disappointed me. Not a day in your life. I was always so proud of you, entering those science competitions, even if you didn’t win.”

I sigh. “That’s the thing. I only did them because I wanted you to be proud of me. I never liked them. And then when I mentioned possibly taking forensics, you were so happy and I just couldn’t tell you the truth. And I thought, I don’t hate it. Maybe I could stick it out.”

“I get it. I probably wouldn’t have been supportive if you had told me you were thinking of deferring. You know, your mom had a rough year in her first year. She almost dropped out.”

“Really?”

He nods. “She went home every weekend, homesick. But she stuck it out and I mistakenly thought that was what you had to do, without realizing feeling lost in school and being homesick were totally different things.”

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