Page 104 of Nothing But It All
“What are you getting at?”
He sighs and shakes his head. “When I was growing up, we didn’t have all the opportunities you kids do now. There wasn’t that much to do. Our lives were simpler back then, and I suppose they were less fancy and all that. But you know what? We may have been playing dominoes and not computers, but weplayed dominoes. The neighbor kids would all come together on the sidewalk or someone’s porch, and we’d play all afternoon.Together.”
The sun moves in the sky, coming through the window at a different angle. Dad squints against the sudden brightness.
“Now you all have so many things you can do that you think you have to try them all. But you never get to really experience any of them,” he says. “And you’re so inundated with information and possibilities and connections that you lose sight as to what life really is.”
I take my seat on the couch and look at my father. I’m beginning to worry about him. What Lauren said is resonating with me and—
“I worry about you, Jack.”
He what?“You worry about me? Why?”
He pulls the handle on the side of his chair and lowers his legs. Then he gets to his feet. “You’re a better man than I ever was. Smarter. More intuitive. More like your mother, thank God.”
What?
“Don’t do what I did,” he says, walking gingerly across the room. “Don’t tie up who you are with what you can accomplish. I did that. I killed myself for a company that didn’t give a shit about me. Missed out on so much—practically my whole life—because I thought that the paychecks, the promotions, the accolades were somehow worth it.”
I can barely breathe. “You’re a good man, Dad.”
He scoffs. “I have a lot of regrets. A lot of them.” He stops at a rollback desk in the corner. “My biggest one, though, is that your mother missed out on living her life because of my choices. I kept thinking we’d travel when I retired. We’d come up here and stay all summer together. We’d make up for lost time. But then she died ... and the time was already gone.”
I’ve never heard my father talk like this before.Where is it coming from?
Harvey Reed has always been a juggernaut of a man, loud and gruff. Not one to be messed with or mislabeled as weak. So to hear his voice on the cusp of breaking almost breaks me.
He rummages around the desk with his back to me. “Don’t you tell your kids that I told you this, but I know Lauren was going to file for divorce.”
My heart drops.
“Maddie called me one night crying because Michael found a card on Lauren’s desk,” he says matter-of-factly. “I wasn’t surprised. I figured as much was coming.”
“You did?”
“Well, sure I did. I was paying attention.” He glances over his shoulder to drive home his point. ThatIwasn’t.
I want to yell at my father; I’m so angry.Why did everyone simply figure it was coming and not bother to say anything to me?I glance back at Dad, knowing he’s not finished.
“So, when you called off this trip,” he says, “the kids and I figured out how to get you both up here.”
Okay, well, at least he’s taking some of the blame for that.
“I want to be pissed that you would work in tandem with my errant children. But, in light of the way things have worked out, I can’t be mad.”
“No, you can’t.” He flips his attention back to the desk. “You really owe me a favor, if we’re being honest.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help but grin.
“I want you to try to slow down a little, Jack. Don’t get caught up in this performance-based lifestyle the world demands nowadays. The only performance that matters is the one you do with your family.”
“When did you become a philosopher?”
“There it is,” he mumbles, closing the desk. He turns to me once again. “I watch a lot of television. There’s some good advice on there from time to time.”
I nod toward his hand. “What do you have in there?”
He thrusts an envelope in my hands before going back to his recliner. “I had that drawn up a while back. Thought this was the time to go ahead and give it to you. I finalized it before I came up here.”
