Page 204 of Mountain Daddy
I twist my fingers together in my lap.
I don’t have a good answer to this question.
And now that we’re here. Now that it’s caught up to me. I feel fucking awful.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “It all happened so fast. And…”
I brush at my cheeks.
There’s no real reason.
No excuse.
Dad shakes his head, wiping away his own tears. “No. No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Don’t apologize.”
“I just…” I fucking shrug again.
I hate that he’s the one saying sorry when I’m the one who didn’t tell him.
“Were you at your mom’s?” He sniffs.
His question hurts. I hate that he’d even think I would tell Mom but not him.
And I hate my answer just as much.
But I give him the truth and shake my head. “I never told her.”
“You… No one…?” His inhale is choppy.
I never told either of them.
Didn’t tell anyone.
Didn’t tell my boyfriend.
Never told him the real reason I broke up with him.
Because I knew he wanted kids. He’d talked about it. He wanted several.
And when I knew I’d never have them…
“Please don’t be sad.” I plead with my dad as tears continue to stream down his face.
“My little girl had cancer, and I didn’t even know.” His words are choked. Like he’s saying it to himself.
I feel like the worst daughter ever.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again. “I… I just wanted to deal with it alone. The surgery… It… The recovery wasn’t that bad.”
It’s the truth. Followed by a lie.
“You’re really okay though? It’s—” Dad swallows. “The cancer is gone?”
I nod, glad I can give him this. “It’s gone.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. I go in every year, and I had my checkup three months ago. There’s never been any signs of it coming back.”
