Page 98 of Let Me Be the One

“Actually, it’s not. I’ve written a few books. They don’t make me a lot of money, but it helps the finances out a bit.”

“Writing is an unreliable form of income, unless you get into journalism or something professional. We’ve talked about this before. You need a proper job.”

“I love writing, Dad. It makes me happy.”

“Happiness isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

As I study my father, I try to think back to a time when I saw him happy. The more I think about it, the surer I become that I’ve never seen him experience the emotion, not even when Tara told Dad she got into medicine.

“Have you ever been happy, Dad?”

“Once.”

The brief pain that crosses his features makes me wonder. “With Mum?”

“I thought I was happy with your mother.” He sits up straighter and looks at me. “What you don’t realise is that happiness can be taken away as quickly as it comes. In the space of so little time, everything you hold dear can be ripped away from you.”

Mum is gone, but Dad has Elkie and Tara, and his large, cold house.

“So, you just think it’s pointless to be happy?”

“There are some things you can take for granted in life, and you need to focus on those.”

“Like what? Money, a house, and a job you work hard for? All of those can be taken away, too, Dad.”

“Yes, but you can protect those assets.”

You can’t protect your heart, is what he’s saying. I hear him. And I think for the first time in my life I understand him. He lives in a perpetual state of misery because it’s easier and safer. Is it any wonder I’ve never been able to make him happy? He isn’t capable of it. He’s afraid of it. Last time I was here, I realised that his disapproval and high expectations are about him, not me, but now I think I know why he is the way he is.

I suspect he’s tried to protect Tara and me in his own way—protect us from the same kind of pain he experienced. Since he believes happiness can be fleeting and can be taken away, he chooses to dwell on what is tangible and practical.

But I don’t want to live like him. I don’t want to alienate everyone around me. He has a strained relationship with Tara now, and the things he said to her may have permanently damaged their relationship.

“I want to be happy, Dad. And I’m not going to stop doing things that make me feel that way. I want you in my life, but I can’t keep trying to live up to your impossible expectations. It’s made me miserable in the past and I’m done. I’m not the academic you wish I was, and I’m never going to be. And sometimes I hate working at Dixon’s, and I don’t have enough money to buy the things I’d really like to, but I need to find my way and make my own rules without worrying about how I’m going to follow yours. All this time, I believed I wasn’t worthy unless I got your approval, but you’re not going to give it to me unless I’m living my life like yours, and I don’t want to sit in isolation and be miserable. It isn’t for me.”

“Are you about to cut me out of your life, too?”

I think he means to sound stern and unforgiving, but he looks uncertain. Afraid.

“I want you in my life, Dad. And so does Tara, but you need to stop being so closed off to happiness and start thinking about what really matters. Or you might end up with all this.” I motion around me. “But no one to share it with.”

Elkie walks in with a tray of tea, nervously glancing between my father and me. I was planning on leaving. I feel like I just delivered my exit line, but my stepmother looks at me pleadingly, as if she wants me to stay.

“Tea, Gordon?”

“Yes, please, Elkie.”

Elkie pours a cup of tea for my father and me. Things feel stiff and formal, and I’m not sure what my father is thinking. Once my stepmother passes a cup to my father and me, she pours one for herself and joins us, taking a seat on the antique gold sofa.

“So,” Dad starts after an awkward pause. “What kind of books are you writing?”

The question sounds strained, like he’s not even sure he wants to know. Maybe he doesn’t. I know I don’t want to tell him.

“Ah, romance.”

He swears, causing me to jerk my gaze from my cup to him.

“Burnt my tongue,” he explains.

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