Page 120 of Swear on My Life

My dad returns hose-less this time. “I had to turn off the water.” Embracing me fully, he doesn’t give me a pat on the back. Just a genuine hug. “I’m glad to see you, Harbor.”

“I’m glad to be here, Dad.”

Stepping closer to mom, he holds her hand, and says, “We made lemonade. I’ll go get it, and we can talk.”

“Where are my parents, and what have you done with them?”

“Eh,” my dad says, waving me off. “Figured you’d enjoy the lemon flavor after living in Italy. They’re known for their lemons and limoncello.” I like that he’s sharing facts about where I’ve been. It’s both entertaining and endearing.

Mom and I walk to the outdoor dining table and sit under the yellow umbrella. She reaches over and covers my hands with hers. “I’m just . . . the house feels right with you back in it.”

I wondered if I would feel awkward or uncomfortable being away from everyone for so long. That they all know the reason also played on my mind. What do they think of me? Did I lose respect? Or—

“Here we go.”

My dad sits down, and my mom fills the glasses. I take a sip and then look around the estate. “I always loved it here. I missed it.” Glancing back at them, I say, “I miss my family.”

“We’re just so happy,” my mom says, a tentativeness in the back of her throat. “I worry—”

“You’re happy but worried? What about?” I ask.

My dad rests his hand on her arm, and replies, “That you’ll be leaving before we have a chance to spend some quality time together.”

I think about Lark up in New Haven. Four hours and I could see her again. But should I is the question.

My mom says, “Thank you for always checking in.” She’s courteous enough to overlook the first few months after I left. It was probably the time when they were most worried. They should have been because I was a fucking mess.

After that, I refused to give up on this life. I didn’t with Lucas, and I wasn’t doing it now. “I feel good.”

“You look good, son,” my dad says. “Healthy. Happy. The life you’ve created is working for you. What brought you back?”

“I missed my family, so I learned what I needed to accomplish my goals and came back. To be upfront, I’ll be home for a week, and then I’m heading to the city. I decided that would be the best place to start my business.”

“So cars, huh?”

“High-end custom Italian cars,” I clarify.

“I like cars,” my mom says, “Maybe I should be your first customer.”

“As much as I appreciate the support, Dad, we’re talking a million base price. I wouldn’t let you spend your money like that.”

He whistles. “Wow, that’s impressive. I know there’s a market for collectibles.”

“I already have three orders. Once they’re delivered in six months, those will hit the street and internet, and I’ll get more orders.”

“What’s the maximum number of orders you can take at one time and still deliver?”

I like that my dad is not only holding me to the fire but pressing me to know my shit. I know it. “Twelve in production at one time with upward of thirty for the year in orders. Beyond that, I’ll need to build my own factory instead of licensing rights and using other manufacturers.”

My mom is wide-eyed. “Harbor, this is so impressive. You’re building something from nothing from your own dreams.”

“Yeah,” I say, grinning. “I’m pretty proud of myself. This is not something I ever thought I could do two years ago. I was going to be a doctor.”

“You would have been miserable,” she says, reaching over again to touch my arm in comfort. “Your heart was never in it, but you seemed so focused that I didn’t dare risk questioning you. I’ve learned from that. I now ask the necessary questions.”

That we all have learned something from whatever I’m calling it these days—mistakes, crisis, life—will serve us better in not only our communication but moving forward to living our lives to the fullest.

Marina peeks out the back door, and asks, “Are we interrupting?” I can see her excitement to spend time with me. I feel the same about her and my brothers as well.

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