Page 36 of Hate To Love You

“You’re right. We don’t. But I’m sorry I lost my mind this afternoon. I was just exhausted by all this.”

“You’re not staying?” The light fixture in here is every bit as amazing as the ones in the rest of the house. It’s made up of glass fronds layered on top of each other, and it looks so real that if there were a breeze in here, it would probably sway with it. Although, on second thought, no, they wouldn’t. They’re too heavy for a gentle wind. Kind of like my soul at the moment.

“I’m not. I can go home with you,” I tell him.

“But you’re—”

“It’s okay, Dad. That’s over. Apollo is going to do up the papers. We’re officially getting divorced. We never should have gotten married in the first place. We both knew it wasn’t going to be a real marriage, but we hoped if we went through with it, you and John would eventually make peace and come around to being friends again because we were together.”

Dad’s face falls. He walks over to the bed and sits down hard, right on the canopy. There’s enough fabric that it doesn’t tear the top off. He hunches over and puts his head in his hands. I rush over and set a hand on his shoulder.

“This wasn’t your fault.”

“How can you say that?” He looks up at me in pure misery. “I played that stupid card game and put the company in a perilous position. I haven’t run it properly all these years, or we wouldn’t have been in a situation like that in the first place. I was the one who fought with my best friend, the one who kept it up all these years. I’ve been stubborn, and you’re paying the price for it.”

“No. Seriously, just no. I don’t care how we got here. It’s going to be okay. I don’t have to stay here. We’re going home, and I’m coming back to work with you.” I swallow hard and force myself to explain the rest to him.

I expect him to be mad or to fight me when I talk about the shares, but he just seems surprised that Apollo is willing to help us out even after all this. I can’t tell him what Apollo said to me out there. I can’t tell him that he wanted to give me this house. I will never tell him that I kissed him. I can’t tell him I used the business to hide behind because I was terrified. My dad’s life work is my first priority. I have to protect that. We’re not in a position to refuse the help. I just couldn’t accept what Apollo was saying, and I couldn’t accept a house and land. I couldn’t continue a sham marriage. The shares seemed like the least I could offer. It wasn’t just helping my dad and everyone working for him. It wasn’t just because I believed in his work or that losing the company would ruin him. I’m ashamed to say I accepted the offer because making a big deal about it meant I could avoid making a big deal about the rest.

“I agree,” he says numbly after I’m done.

That blows me away. He agrees? Just like that? Was it because of what happened with the card game, the marriage, me coming out here, and him thinking it was all his fault?

“Dad?”

Yeah, that’s exactly what he thinks because he goes on to say, “You sacrificed yourself for the company once. You gave up your freedom and your future. Not just with this marriage but long before that. I kept you with me and made the company your life. I was selfish, and I told myself it was for the best, always for the best, but what best? My best? This thing has consumed my life, just like my grief consumed me, and I made you live like that. I was careless in my anger, and I’ve been careless for years. I made mistakes, and you paid for them. If you can leave now, through your choices, so we can do this to save the company and continue the work we do, then it’s a great thing. I will accept it without any conditions and think of it as a blessing I don’t deserve.”

Dad winces, and now I’m on high alert. It looks like something is seriously wrong. Like, life-ending kind of wrong. I know this marriage was a terrible thing in his mind. I know he blames himself, and he’s upset, but this is more than that. It feels like a punch in the gut when I see the regret in his eyes. He’s anything but joy and happiness, anything but the tough and strong—we can get through anything, forever and always—dad I grew up with. Instead, he just looks like a defeated man, an old man, a man for whom the world is anything but the beautiful place he always tried to make better through his work.

It rocks me back on my heels. “Dad?”

“It was me,” he whispers. He can’t look at me. The floor is hardwood in here with a green shag rug, and the long tendrils look like grass between my toes. My body is in instant tension.

“What was you?”

“Your mom. When she left, I was shattered, but I told her she couldn’t be in and out of your life. I thought it was best for you. You were just a kid. You needed a stable environment. I told her that if she was leaving, she couldn’t drag you across the country to spend a weekend here or there with her. She couldn’t just pop back in because she wasn’t welcome. She couldn’t confuse you like that. She was gone. She was choosing not to be a mother or a wife. She was leaving us both behind, and she didn’t deserve to be there for you on her terms. She quit on us, and that was…that was that. At least, I thought so at the time. But I’ve realized for years that I’ve been wrong.”

“Dad!” I can’t handle this. I can’t handle this kind of confession. Especially because for years, I suspected that’s why my mom hadn’t contacted me. It was just so strange. She loved me. I knew she did. She might have been leaving, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to be in my life or know me any longer. “I…why would you do that?”

I know why. Because when one person gets their heart shattered, it hurts. It makes them become like a wrecked animal beyond rational thought. Sometimes the only way to survive something like that is to harden yourself so fully that you become a changed person. It wasn’t all for my benefit. I can see that. His expression says it all. Some of it was revenge and anger, some was bitterness, and yes, a whole lot was to protect me.

There isn’t one answer as to why. It’s a stupid question—a question that’s as old as time, people railing against the unfairness of life and the injustice in the world.

“How long did she try?”

Dad didn’t tell me any of this before, but he’s not going to lie to me now. He wants it all out there. Has this been eating away at him all this time? It obviously has. He looks like a beaten man, like the way people look when they have nothing left, right before they realize they’re going to lose the things they tried so desperately to hold on to.

“She’s still trying,” he mutters weakly.

“No!” Instant tears fill my eyes, and my body feels like it’s boiling. The room feels like it’s going to start melting away, the palm fronds bubbling and sliding down to the floor. “No. I’ve been an adult for years now.” At the same time, so has my mom. Yes, Dad tried to cut her off. He might not have let her call, and he might not have given me her letters, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t have shown up. We didn’t move. He didn’t go into hiding. We’ve been in the same place all along. Feeling unwelcome isn’t enough to—

“I got a restraining order.” We know each other too well. Dad can read everything I’m thinking so well that it’s like I screamed it. “She couldn’t come to the house, or she would have been arrested.”

Would that have stopped me from seeing my own child? Or would the fear of being arrested in front of my daughter, and the way it would no doubt traumatize her, prevent me from being rash?

“Jesus Christ!” Why would you do that? By punishing her in your bitterness, you were punishing me, too. Did you ever think about that? Yes, you did. You did, yet you did it anyway. She left you, not me. She didn’t want to be married to you anymore, but she still wanted to be my mom. I need a walk. I need a walk so Dad can’t see my face. It’s not fair or mature to voice any of this. Things said in a rage aren’t okay. They’re damaging, and the damage is for life.

Just like Apollo leaving, it’s already done. The only thing to do is live with it and move on from here.

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