Page 108 of You, with a View

“It was you, though,” he says, his gaze searching.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Well, hold that thought. After you left, Mom and I watched all the videos. And then spent some time reading the comments and...” He trails off, clearing his throat the way I did moments before. For the first time, I notice that his eyes are a little glassy. Mom looks at him, a soft smile on her face.

“Were you crying?” I exclaim, starting to stand.

He holds up a hand, his eyes reddening further. “What you did with this is powerful stuff. All of the comments about people’s families, about your talent. I want to say right off the bat that we’re so proud of this work you did.”

“It’s incredible,” Mom agrees. “But we’re trying to wrap our heads around why you said the trip was something it wasn’t. Why didn’t you just tell us what you were doing?”

“It’s a long story,” I warn.

“You’re clearly good at telling them,” my dad says. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

With a deep breath, I do. I start with how I found the photos and letter. I tell them how afraid I was to break the fragile skin of Dad’s healing by bringing up a love story that wasn’t his parents’. I admit I wanted to have one last secret with Gram, and talk at length about the connection I felt to her while I was there. I tell them—haltingly—how attached I grew to Paul. To Theo.

When I’m done, my throat is raw from talking so much, from crying earlier, and I swallow hard. I wish I had a drink. Water, or better yet, vodka.

Dad lets out a heavy sigh. “Thank you for putting all that in context. I don’t love that you lied, but honestly—” He cracks a smile, and all of a sudden he’s laughing. Mom’s grinning, too, and I split my gaze between the two of them.

Didtheyhave vodka? “Um, are you okay?”

Dad wipes at his eyes. “Yeah, it’s just—it’s kind of funny, because I knew about Paul.”

All of the air leaves the room. For a second, I can’t hear anything but the heartbeat in my ears. “I’m sorry. What?”

“It’s not a secret, honey. Mom mentioned it in passing a time or two when us kids were older, in a nostalgiclook how it turned outkind of way.” He sobers up, leaning forward. “Given your relationship andthat little secret game you two had, I understand that this may have felt like she was hiding it from you, but I don’t think that’s ever what it was. It was just a chapter of her life that had closed.”

“But didn’t that—for you—” I let out a breath, frustrated with my scrambled brain. “Her and Grandpa’s relationship meant so much to you. I thought if you knew, it might bother you.”

“Not at all. Part of what’s so epic about their love story is that they chose each other, Noelle. They made the decision to make it work.” He lifts a shoulder, looking over at Mom, who he shares a private smile with. “Every relationship comes with a tipping point, where you decide if you’re going to let it go or hold on tight. Sometimes you have multiple—”

“Speaking from experience,” Mom pipes up, digging her elbow into Dad’s side.

He grins at her before continuing. “There’s nothing wrong with either scenario. In fact, both decisions are incredibly brave. But I think it’s miraculous when two people decide together that they’re going to hold on. Gram and Grandpa did that for sixty-some years, and they loved each other deeply through every minute of it.”

Theo’s words drift through my brain.You’re so obsessed with secrets. I created an entire separate path because I thought Gram and Paul’s relationship was one. I went on their abortedhoneymoon, for god’s sake.

“So I made this whole thing up?” I’m asking myself as much as I am my parents. “I could’ve just asked you, ‘Hey, do you know about a guy named Paul?’ and you’d have said, ‘Yeah, as a matter of fact I do’ and all of my questions would have been answered?”

“Well, no. I couldn’t have given you the story Paul did. If you’d asked me, I would’ve given you the information I had, which wasn’t all that much, and you’d have moved on. Look at where this other path took you.”

Two weeks of reading Gram’s words and hearing about her first-hand from Paul, feeling that connection between us strengthen. Two weeks of rediscovering my love for photography, and finding Theo.

None of that would’ve happened if I hadn’t dug deeper on my own.

My parents scoot apart, and Dad pats the space between them. I stumble over, letting myself be pulled into the circle of his arms.

His tone is soft and soothing, his bedtime story voice. “All our grief is different, and you faced yours in a way that you needed to, which was keeping one of the main tenets of your relationship with Gram alive. That grief never goes away, but it can grow into something that you can handle, or even grow from. Look what you created from it—your own story woven in with hers. That’s something she would love. She would be so proud of you.”

“Dad,” I groan, my eyes flooding. My heart is breaking and healing all at once, in waves. She would be proud. She’d probably frame all the complimentary comments about my photos. And the ones that called her a babe, too.

He shakes me gently, and I look up to see his eyes are wet like mine. “Mom and I are proud of you, too. Whatever you needed to do to come home with that smile on your face, it was worth it. I can’t be all that mad that you lied to us anymore, because look at what it brought you.”

I close my eyes and I swear I see it play out like a movie behind my eyes, using all of the images I’ve captured. It’s beautiful, even the painful parts.

It’s not a mistake I made. It’s my life.

---