Page 3 of From the Wreckage
He chuckles. “You’ll always be my kiddo, Bri.” Then he points his spatula at it. “You know me. I have the patience of a saint.”
I roll my eyes, giggling as I climb the three steps to the wooden deck. “Stubborn and impatient. Your two best qualities.” I kiss his cheek, then move toward the door to start the baked potatoes and corn on the cob.
“You know it,” he calls after me. “It’s why you love me.”
“Sure is,” I yell back with a laugh.
I put my bag and purse on the dining room table, then move to the kitchen. As I’m digging out the pot for the corn, I’m still smiling.
It’s good to be home.
Dadand I are still outside, sitting on the back deck while dusk falls over us. Fireflies blink lazily in the yard, the air thick with summer warmth. The smell of the lake drifts up from the dock.
“Glad you’re home, kiddo.” Dad clinks his glass of iced tea against mine before he sighs, his gaze moving to the water. “Summer’s going too fast. I’m gonna dread August.”
“Me, too.” I take a drink, eyeing him over the rim. “As excited as I am for senior year, I’ll miss home.”
“Good ole GWU,” he says with a sigh, his eyes on the dock. “I remember when you didn’t want to go.”
“It’s not that I didn’t want to. I just hated the thought of being away from you.”
His smile fades. “I don’t ever want to hold you back, kiddo. There’s a whole world out there. You have the power to make it better.”
I let the kiddo part slide. “Glad you have so much faith in me.” I set my glass down. “Do you think I’m choosing the right path?”
“Counseling kids? Yeah…” His expression darkens. “You experienced abandonment and divorce, Bri. What your mom did… it left scars. On both of us.” He gives me a look. “You can understand them.”
My breath hitches. He rarely talks about her. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he hates reopening that wound.
I ask before I can stop myself. “You ever wonder where she is?”
“Used to. For a couple of years after she left. Then I realized we were better off.”
Tears sting my eyes. I blink them away. “We are better off. Just you and me.” I hold out my fist.
His smile returns as he bumps it. “You and me, kiddo. Always.”
His words warm my insides, but it’s the fact that he’s backed it up every day of my life since the day she left when I was nine years old that cements it.
Dad’s never been great at being emotional for long, so I tease a smile out of him. “Ugh. I’m an adult.”
“Don’t remind me.” He groans. “The years went fast. Too fast.”
I stand, moving to the part of the deck closest to the dock. We fall into the familiar pattern of telling old stories, our easy laughter filling the air. Fireflies glow at the edge of the yard.
I tilt my head toward the night sky. “Look,” I say, pointing. “It’s the first star of the night.”
My dad’s gaze follows my finger. He smiles, then closes his eyes. “I wish for all my daughter’s dreams to come true.”
“Dad! You’re not supposed to say your wish out loud. It won’t come true.”
Opening his eyes, he shrugs. “That’s just a silly superstition.”
“Like the salamander.”
He grins. “I didn’t want that damn thing living in our house.”
“You told me it would jump down my throat if I opened my mouth. I was terrified.”
