Page 139 of The Moon Also Rises
I quickly glance around the room again, noticing how everyone is getting a little louder and more bodies are starting to move to the music. I know I shouldn’t be getting into this at my birthday party, but I also don’t know when I’ll get the chance again. And Lord knows I’ve waited long enough for it to happen.
“Because you hurt me, Dad. I’ve wanted to have a better relationship with you for years, decades. Indeed, I wanted to be closer to you when I was younger, but it’s never felt possible. You’ve always kept us at arm’s length…” I brave a look at him.
His colouring has faded a little and his eyes are fixed on his glass, I can’t read what he’s thinking. So I keep going.
“And it hurt me, Dad. Jenna will never say it because, frankly, she doesn't need you in the same way—”
“What exactly are you trying to say, Jake?” He interrupts in a rough voice. His eyes are on me now looking angry or confused, or both. I’ve said too much. I’ve pushed him too far. The clutches of panic wrap around my throat, threatening to silence me, but I refuse to let them do so before I say what I really need to say.
“Part of me still needs my dad,” I push the words out even though they are heavy leaving my mouth. “I still need to know that you love me, and that you're proud of me.”
The silence between us stretches into a deafening nothingness, even despite the music and chatter that fills the courtyard. It’s a fertile ground for doubt and fear and more panic. But my dad's voice is like sunshine warming the stubborn seed of hope that was still there regardless.
“I love you, Jake,” he says just loud enough for me to hear. He coughs again and then his voice is louder. “And I couldn't be prouder of you.”
“Really?” I face him, unable to stop my smile.
“Yes, and I'm sorry—” My father's voice cracks. “I'm sorry I haven't told you that enough. Probably ever, in fact.”
“You’re saying it now,” I say as if to confirm he really is, but Dad doesn’t seem to listen.
“I know I've been selfish. What happened with your mother and with Carol…”
“We don't have to talk about it. At least not now,” I say quickly. In all honesty, I don’t want to rehash the past. I’d rather focus on a better future.
“Well, I won't lie and pretend that's a relief because I find it hard. I find it very, very hard to think about what happened to Cathy and how she died and how you and Jenna had to grow up so quickly and...” He trails off.
“So, you don't think about it,” I finish for him.
“No, I don't. Which I know is very cowardly.”
“Yes, it is,” I agree, but I can’t honestly say I’m much better. Too often I avoid talking about my mother, even with Jenna.
My father releases such a heavy sigh I almost expect him to say something else or walk away or do something to end the conversation, but instead I get the opposite.
“God, it’s such a relief to say these dreadful things out loud.”
“It is?”
“When I read Jenna’s book—” he begins.
“You read Jenna’s book?” The shock pushes my shoulders back.
“Of course. Carol and I read it together, a chapter a night, when it first came out.”
“Have you told Jenna this?” I look up to see my sister chatting with Carol, Marty’s arm around her back.
“No, I don't suppose I have.”
“Jesus, Dad. She would love to know this!”
“Jenna? No, I’m not so sure. You said yourself, Jenna doesn't need any kind of praise from me. She knows she's a fine writer and an excellent researcher, just in the same way you know how remarkable it is that you have lived and worked in countless countries across the world. Learning the languages, the customs, and climbing the ranks in hospitality.”
“No, Dad. Idon'tknow this. And I definitely don't know that that's what you think about me.”
Dad’s face falls. “Oh... Well, that's... That's a shame.”
I pull in a breath. “The good news is that it can change,” I say. “I’ve learnt recently that you can change almost anything about yourself as long as you put your mind to it. So, tell me what you were going to say about Jenna's book?”
