Page 115 of Rewrite the Rules

“Is that serious? Is Denver short on assistants?”

A frustrated huff escapes my mouth. As if my dad should understand a story that I never told him. “No…I’d been sleeping with my assistant for the past few months and after convincing myself that I didn’t want a serious relationship, we broke it off. She’s somethingreallyspecial, and I just let her go. Without a fight. She severed all ties with me. I’ve been trying to forget about it and move on, but looking at this damn duck wine right now…”

“Son, isn’t this the same reason you left home? You had a similar story with Juliana, no?”

I shake my head. I’m not thrilled about how things ended with Juliana, but the point is I was relieved that they did. This…this isn’t the same. The opposite. Being without Adler is like suffocating…slowly.

“Adler is different. She’s…” I can’t help but smile when I remember all the good about our time together. “She’s gorgeous but kind of shy about it. She’s so talented, but genuinely humble. She’s smart but also goofy and funny. Strong but also sweet and supportive. She was so good to me. Weshouldbe together. It’s just the way I feel about marriage—”

“Ah.” He hangs his head. “Back to my apology then. Joel—do you remember the night your mother and I got into a fight and we sent you and Cami to Aunt Tia’s for the weekend?”

“Yeah—so you guys could fight it out to the death?”

“Well, you ran away. Tia called us and said you’d escaped the house but we knew exactly where you were headed so we didn’t worry. You snuck back into the house and made your mother and me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and lit those little tealights on the dining table. You wrote us cards from each other that said, ‘I love you’.”

“I remember the story, Dad.” Albeit, I was ten years old but it wasn’t my manliest moment trying to prepare a romantic date for my parents so they’d stop fighting.

“My point is, you’ve always been a fixer. I’m willing to bet it’s why you were attracted to the career you have now. But as much as you tried while you were growing up…you couldn’t fix your mom and me. I can’t imagine the bad taste that must’ve left in your mouth—”

“Dad, you don’t have to do this. I’m a grown man, I make my own—”

“Joel.” My dad’s unyielding tone echoes around the kitchen. “You are still my son. Grown man or not. And what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry you felt you had to carry that burden—to fix your mother and me. I’m sorry we set you up for failure. But most importantly, I’m so sorry I taught you that marriage and partnership is such an awful thing. Because it’s not the truth. Yes, love is at times painful.Yes, it takes work. But in the end, it’s not just worth it. It’s the only thing in this life that’s worth it.”

His words percolate through my veins, feeling like relief. I think I’ve been waiting for this apology my whole life. I didn’t know until this very minute how badly I needed it. My dad pulls me into a hug and I let my chin slump onto his shoulder. It’s a while before we break our embrace.

He motions to the bottle on the counter. “Do you have a wine bottle opener here?”

“Well seeing as I have a wine room, I’d say yes. I probably do.”

My dad is not amused at my attempts at Adler humor. “Get the opener, Joel.” I do as I’m told and my dad expertly pops the cork on the duck wine that I thought he’d take home as a souvenir. I grab two round glasses from the cabinet and set them down on the kitchen island where my dad returns to his seat.

“I thought you’d want to bring that home to Mom.”

“Your mother hates this wine. She tolerates it for me. You know, this wasn’t the first time we were separated. We broke up around the time you were two. I bet you don’t even remember. Your big brothers hardly do.”

My dad swivels his wine in the cup watching the thin legs of the liquid coat the inside of the glass. Watch the legs, he always told me, that’s how you know if it’s good wine.

“What happened?”

“What happens to every couple. We were stressed, we had four sons and let me tell you, your brothers were not easy on your mother. I was always working, trying to provide for our family and she was stuck at home catering to everyone else’s needs but hers. And we blew up and we fought and we said things we didn’t mean.”

“Yeah, see? That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

“And then we realized that anger is just a feeling and we chose to keep our family together. We chose each other over our pride. We reconciled and we conceived Cami. And that fresh start was enough to carry us through the next two decades of our lives.”

I take a sip of the smooth wine. The kind of smooth that is only accomplished with time. “Until you separated again.”

“And who knows, we might separate again before we die. But we’ve always found our way back together. You think marriage is a finish line? It’s the starting point. There’s no finish line, Joel. Marriage isn’t something you accomplish. It’s a choice. Love is always a choice. I’d rather fight with your mother than make love to anybody else.”

“Yuck. Did you just say, ‘make love’?”

He nods once. “I did. Let me tell you something about your mother—”

“Gross. Please stop.”

“Forty years and the woman has not lost a single move in the bed—”

“Gross, Dad.Stop!”

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