Page 119 of Love is a Game

My gaze shifts back to my father. The man I barely know. A man who has been through a lot, who made choices I still don’t know how to forgive.

I reach for the tissues, my body exhausted from the emotional purge.

“Penelope. Stay a while,” Laurie says softly. “This is obviously eating at you, and it’s understandable. And I know talking might not fix the past, but it might give you some answers.”

I should say no. I should grab my keys, walk out the door, and leave my father behind the way he left me.

But I don’t.

Instead, for once, I give in. Let myself sink into the chair…and listen.

Chapter 35

Penelope

Coffee progresses to tuna fish sandwiches and iced tea, and my tears to odd bursts of laughter as our memories of Mom collide.

“Oh, she had all sorts of weird rules.” Dad chuckles. “Shoes off at the door, don’t curse near a church, burgers for lunch but not for dinner.”

“And pizza was acceptable for dinner but somehow not for lunch,” I add, laughing. “Also, no junk food for consecutive meals.”

“Not evenleftoverpizza!” He shakes his head. Then, he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But, there was this one time we were on the road. You must’ve been…four? Maybe five?”

I don’t respond, but my stomach tumbles at the idea of a memory he holds of me.

“We were somewhere in Pennsylvania.” He squints as if picturing it. “It was mid-morning, and we were starving. You’d been whining from the backseat for like an hour that you were hungry—”

I scoff. “I doubt that.”

“Oh, you whined,” he teases. “And your mom kept saying: ‘Just hold out, we’ll find a place with real food.’” He mimics a high-pitched voice. “Then we hit a traffic jam. Stopped dead on the highway, no gas stations, no diners, just miles of brake lights. And your mother—” He laughs, shaking his head. “She finally snapped. Yanked open the cooler, pulled out the cold pizza from the night before, and handed you a slice. Didn’t say a word. Just gave up.”

I can almost imagine it. Her begrudging sigh. The resigned set of her jaw as she went against one of her own rules.

Dad smiles. “You, of course, thought you’d won some kind of war. You made this big show of taking the first bite, all smug, like you’d just defeated a dictator.”

A laugh huffs out of me before I can stop it. “Sounds about right.”

“The best part?” Dad shakes his head, eyes glinting with something bittersweet. “She tried to act like she hated every second of it. But a few minutes later, I caught her sneaking a slice for herself.” He leans back in his chair. “Turns out, she could break the rules.” His jaw tightens. “Well, she sure did for me—many a time.”

I hesitate, watching the way his fingers drum against the table, restless.

“My grandparents didn’t approve of her being with you,” I say carefully.

“Nope. And it sucks that I proved them right.” He sighs, tipping his head back. “Turned out to be just like my old man, as much as I hated him. How’s them apples, huh?”

“But you broke that mold,” Laurie interjects, her voice firm. “You did the hard work to break the cycle.”

Dad glances at her, giving a wry smile, but then his gaze flicks back to me, his expression somber. “It came a bit late for Penny, though, didn’t it?”

“I don’t know about that.” Laurie folds her arms on the table. “After all, we just had lunch with your daughter, Sean. That’s got to count for something after all these years.”

A strange sensation makes me grip my hands together as Dad’s eyes well up. He sniffs hard, swiping a finger under his nose.

“It is great you came, Penny,” he says thickly. “I know there’s no way I can make up for the past, but—” He clears his throat. “I sure appreciate you coming here today. And I really hope it’s not the last time.”

Now it’s Laurie who reaches for the Kleenex and noisily blows her nose.

And suddenly, I see the moment for what it is. A quiet shift. A glimpse of my father without the walls I’ve built around him. He’s not the shadowy disappointment of my childhood. He’s an aging man, rough around the edges but softened by the years, shaped by his regrets, his struggles. I can’t erase what he did—how he let me go, how he wasn’t there. But Laurie might be right. Maybe we could get to know each other now. In a different way.

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