Page 88 of Falling for You Again

I shush her, bouncing my hand for her to keep it down. Let me be in denial. No, the floor doesn’t need to be swept. Savant will tear down the building. But sweeping was my first job at the shop, and doing this now feels cathartic. Full circle. It makes sense this is my last task here. Artisant Designs was more of a home than my apartment. Before I turn the lights off one final time, it only feels right to take care of her when she took such good care of me.

“Waffle brunch at my place tomorrow. Ten a.m.,” Emi reminds us.

“We’ll be there,” Tam says.

“Anything we can bring?” Shae asks.

“Nope, I got it covered. But you can give me a ride to the store.”

Emi leaves with Shae and Tam, and I text Dad one last reminder to pick up his desk before I lock up and leave with the truck. But before I can send it off, the front door opens.

“Wow,” Dad says, coming inside to look around. “This place is empty.”

I lean on the broom. “Nice of you to show up.”

“Yeah, well, I was giving your mom space.”

“Mom told me what happened.”

His shaggy brows leap to his hairline. “Everything?”

I nod, and he releases a long sigh. He looks at the floor. “I called the gambling hotline last night,” he says after a bit. “I’m getting help.”

“I’m sure asking wasn’t easy.” I can tell it was difficult for him to share this with me let alone make that call.

Dad goes quiet. He looks like he has something to say but doesn’t know how or where to start. I decide to put him out of his misery. Without the shop or Uncle Bear holding our family together, someone needs to step up.

“What you did to us, gambling away the building, I should hate you for it. I’m sure Uncle Bear does. But I don’t.” Dad looks up, shocked. His expression asks me why, so I confess something I’ve only begun to realize myself. “If you hadn’t gambled it away, I never would have let go of Artisant and tried something different or new. I was too stuck on the idea that it was the shop that kept us together when it’s been Uncle Bear all along. Now, he’s kind of done a crap job at it.” Dad laughs and the side of my mouth pulls up into a half grin. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you ever want to come over and hang out with your daughter, the door’s open.”

Dad’s face pulls tight. He glances away. “Thanks, Meli-pie. I don’t deserve that.”

“Probably not, but we all deserve a third chance.”

Dad barks a laugh. “Guess the third time is a charm.”

“It will be.” I smile.

“What’s next for you?” he asks.

“I’m not sure yet, but I have ideas. What do you say we get your desk into storage and get the hell out of here?”

“You’ve done enough for the day. Give me the keys. I’ll take the truck. You go home and rest.”

Good, because I had no idea where I was going to park that truck. Without the shop, the truck lost its parking spot. I gladly drop the keys in his palm. Let him figure that out.

Dad heads for the alley to open the back of the truck but stops. He looks up and around. Then he looks at me, finally making eye contact.Underneath the shock, I feel a jolt of love and relief, a sense of truly being seen by him again.

He smiles easily, knowingly. “She was good to us.”

“She was.”

He nods slowly and continues his way out back.

The desk is a solid beast, but we load it up. Within a half hour, Dad is gone.

I finish sweeping, taking my time, clearing each corner. I dump the trash and pull down the roll door for the last time. I lock the rear door, turn off the ceiling fans and HVAC, and slowly make my way to the front entrance, lingering there, saying goodbye. I go to turn off the lights one last time when the door swings open. Uncle Bear pops in.

“Hey, Melisaurus,” he says as if it’s just another day at the shop. “Glad I caught you. How’s it going?”

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