Page 30 of Hate To Love You

“Dad.” This four-year-old behavior is becoming exhausting.

Patience was tired before. But now the sigh she lets out sounds like it comes from the bottom of her soul.

“You evil, spiteful bastard,” my dad growls.

Gerry goes pale. “I didn’t mean it,” he admits. “You tripped over your own feet. Curses aren’t even real. Plus, spiteful? Evil? You’re a—”

“Enough!”

Sorry to go there again, but Patience is out of patience. If Patience is a virtue, it’s one she no longer has. Her arms spread out widely, and she cuts them through the air in a lashing motion. I’ve never seen her cheeks so scarlet with anger. Maybe shame too. She looks like she could either go full-on dad rage or burst into tears. She stomps on the cobblestone with her flip-flops that she’s been wearing since her boots met the dust. I’m going to buy her a new pair just as soon as I can sneak a peek at the brand. I know they’re still in her room. I just don’t want to be creepy and go snooping around her personal things when she doesn’t know I’m doing it.

“Just straight up enough. There’s no hope for either of you. I’m done. I’m so tired of it. I’m tired of all this.” Now she points at me, and it’s not a good feeling. I’d rather face down a bear who’s angry about getting his nuts trapped between two boulders and having to slowly wrench them out bit by bit in a more than close shave. “You’re the reason I’m in this mess. Both of you. I’m finished.”

She doesn’t just storm off. She storms off.

We all just watch her go, united in our hopelessness and helplessness.

I’ve never seen my dad or Gerry look so stunned, embarrassed, or ashamed.

“Let’s go inside, Dad. I’ll come back out and go after Patience.”

“You should go right away,” Gerry says. “We’ll be okay. She doesn’t know the woods. I didn’t take her camping enough. Her survival skills aren’t just questionable. They’re non-existent. She’s scared of everything, including dandelions and chipmunks. Don’t even get me started about bunnies.”

We went camping a few times as kids, and Patience loved it so much. He’s wrong. She’s not scared of anything, but he’s also not wrong in that the woods can be a dangerous place. I don’t want Patience to get lost in there.

“I’m not going inside,” my dad protests. “If I do, it’s only to grab my suitcase. I think I should leave. I think we should both leave. It’s time.”

I don’t start taking deep breaths or offer up another hugely sarcastic sigh. “You don’t have to leave. Neither of you have to go. Patience is just having a moment.”

“One that we caused.” Gerry’s lost some of the red, but he looks entirely sheepish. He’s worried about Patience. He keeps looking off toward the woods, where she stormed off. They come out of nowhere in the front and sides, so she only had a few paces before it was trees, trees, and more trees. We would have seen her walking for a while if we’d been in the backyard. “I’ll go after her. It’s my fault.”

“It’s both our faults,” my dad cuts in.

Gerry shoots him a filthy look like he can’t bear to agree with him on anything. Patience is right. This is beyond tiring, but I’m not ready to give up. I’ll never be ready to give up. Not when it comes to the two men who raised us. They’re worth fighting for. But it also doesn’t mean my ears aren’t bleeding with all the traded insults, and my brain isn’t trying to turn my ears off so it doesn’t combust itself into a brainy pile of goo inside my skull.

I’m about two seconds away, I think. Patience had to go for a walk to get rid of her frustration before she said something she didn’t want to say. I think I need the same.

“Really, it’s okay. I’ll go after her. I know the woods. I’ll find her in a few minutes, I promise.” I stare Gerry down, then turn to my dad and give him the same no-nonsense hairy eyeball. “If you could both go inside and stay in separate rooms, I think that would be best.”

“Never mind.”

Gah, what? Patience?

I think she’s got us all acting in unison. We turn our heads around like a bunch of owls and find her at the front door. Behind us. Like a freaking ninja of awesomeness.

“I circled around the house and came back through the path.” She points at the trees, and yes, they’re so close to the side of the house that we didn’t see her. I left the yard as wild and natural as I could. The backyard had to be cleared for the pool, but I tried tree relocation instead of just bulldozing everything down. Anything that could be moved was moved, and we did site planning ahead of time when the architect was just starting to think about drawing the whole thing to make the best use of the land. I wanted my new house to be as unobtrusive as it could be.

“You don’t need to find me. I figured you’d be needed here.” She gives me an apologetic look like she’s sorry for blaming our dads for her being here. She doesn’t have to be sorry. This isn’t her fault. It was the shittiest way to have to marry someone. I can see how she doesn’t think of it as being saved or chosen. I know I fucked up. I tried to make it up to her with the surprise, but she didn’t want that either.

Maybe I should just tell her the truth. That this house is for her and how I never spent a single day apart from her where I didn’t think about her. How, for years, I regretted being such a coward and how I promised myself that I would make good on my promise. And since it was a double promise, and I screwed myself over making one, first to her and then to Gerry, I pulled out all the stops as soon as I found out she needed me.

“I’m fine. I’m freaking fine. I just…need a minute.” With that, she walks inside and slams the door.

I think we’re all here having a—well, shit, this is all my fault—moment.

“I’m going to talk to her,” Gerry finally says.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” my dad advises.

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