Page 33 of The Pucking Kiss

“Change things?” he looked at me as if I had lost my marbles. “I’m sorry; how am I supposed to change the fact that I was dealt a shitty hand when it came to my parents?”

“With your dad, I mean,” I clarified, bringing my knees over to my chest. “When was the last time you talked to him?”

“Can’t remember,” he shrugged. “He sends me a card for my birthday every year. I burn it without ever even opening it.”

“Maybe he regrets how things turned out with you?” I turned to look at him, hope brimming in my eyes.

“I’m not delusional, Romai,” he chuckled darkly. “If that man regretted anything, then he wouldn’t have been so cold in my childhood.”

“You’re his only son, right? I’m sure he has some regrets about the whole thing.”

“Am I supposed to give him an award for that?” he rolled his eyes, suddenly pushing me away from him.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying you’re lucky that your dad is still alive. Mine isn’t, and I’ll never get to have a relationship with him. You can still fix yours.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he just stared back at me. Angry at first, and then his expression dissolved into a more sympathetic one.

“Maybe we can swap places. I’ll keep the dead dad, and you can have the neglectful one.”

“I’m serious, Bryan. I think it’ll help you, too. Sometimes forgiveness benefits the person that is doing it more than the person being forgiven.”

“You know you talk like you’re some wise old sage, right?” he remarked pointedly. It was obvious that he wanted to change the topic, but I wasn’t going to let him.

“Bryan, I can see that you still hold a lot of anger for your dad. It’s not fair to you. I think you should try and reconcile things with him.”

My suggestion made him laugh out loud. “Funny joke.”

“It’s not a joke,” I pressed. “Why don’t you go see him? Even if it’s awful, you could at least get closure and get the things you always wanted to tell him off your chest. I learned that in therapy.”

“So, you’re going to use therapy talk on me now?” he mocked. “We all know that’s bullshit.”

“Consider it,” I rubbed his shoulders gently. He eased into my touch, closing his eyes.

“Sure, let’s for a moment agree to your crazy idea. What am I supposed to do? Just show up at his door?”

“Yep,” I nodded. “That’s exactly what you’ll do. He’s your father, Bryan. You can’t just cut him out from your life.”

“Actually,” Bryan paused as if recalling a memory that he had long blacked out. “For the last few years, he has made some efforts to reach out to me. I guess whatever self-discovery journey he was on finally ended. But I’ve never responded.”

“See?” I brightened up. “Now, why didn’t you tell me that sooner? You made it sound as though he abandoned you entirely.”

“Because that’s what it felt like, Romai,” his voice got louder. “I can’t believe you’re sticking up for him.”

“I’m not. I would never discount your emotions,” I told him, “But I know what it’s like to have regrets about not knowing a parent. That’s why I’m suggesting it.”

“What do I get out of it?”

“Peace,” I replied. “You can move on from your traumas then, instead of letting them hold you hostage.”

Bryan got up from next to me and walked away to the other room without saying a word. I was left staring at his retreating figure, wondering if I had said too much or been too pushy.

If I hadn’t had the experience of losing my parents, I would never have urged Bryan to reconcile with his dad. But my life experiences were unique and taught me that you need to fix things before one day you have no way to.

The door to his room slammed shut, and I dragged myself off the couch, following him to his room.

A small knock on his door.

“You can come in,” he was sitting by the edge of his window now. The anger from earlier was replaced with contemplation.

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