Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Returning the favor, I interrupt him. “Maybe you should’ve worried, should’ve paid attention.” It’s a sharp dig, a preemptive strike for what I know is coming. I’m disappointed in you… I’m ashamed of you… And worst of all, you’ve failed.
Dad’s lips press into a thin line, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening as he narrows his gaze. “You’re probably right,” he concedes. “I have made many mistakes as a father, ones I wish I could go back and undo, but time doesn’t work like that, does it?” He tilts his head like he wants an answer. I stare back silently. “Time is a precious thing, not to be wasted.”
Is that what he thinks? That’s I’m wasting my time with Riggs and Maddox?
“So I have one question for you,” Dad says. I am fidgeting with my ring like crazy, like it might magically stop this trainwreck that’s coming down the tracks, straight at me. “Are you happy with them? Riggs and Maddox? The two of them… no, the three of you. Are you all happy?”
I blink, for once utterly stupefied, having not expected that to be his question. In any list of potential questions I could’ve compiled, that wouldn’t have been on it at all, much less as question number one.
Deciding that a bit more transparency is worth the gamble, I confess, “I’ve been lonely for a while. And when I met them, I never thought it would become… this. But it did. There’s something we each bring to the relationship, and without one of us…” I risk a look at Mom, hoping she truly hears this. “It wouldn’t be the same. It’d be incomplete. But when we’re together, it feels right. I’m happy now, with them.”
“They treat you well?”
“Charles, you can’t seriously be considering this?” Mom argues, looking about as shocked as I feel.
“Of course they do. As if I’d accept less,” I answer, a smile trying to bloom. Dad’s not a yeller, so I didn’t worry he’d get loud, but he does seem particularly calm, all things considered.
He nods silently, thoughtfully. “When do we get to meet them?”
The smile stretches across my face as my eyes sting from tears. “Really?”
“Really?” Mom echoes, her meaning quite different from mine.
“I have known many men in my life who have had a wife at home and a girlfriend on the side,” he says.
“Excuse me?” Mom snaps.
Dad smiles at her, the picture of a man so in love he’d destroy the world rather than do something like that to her. Dad hasn’t even known other women exist since the day he laid eyes on Mom, and we all know that. “Other men,” he clarifies. “Not me, obviously. I love you with my whole heart.” Seeing that Mom is soothed by his romantic words, he tries to explain himself again, though even he looks confused by what he’s saying. “Sometimes, the wife and the girlfriend knew about each other, like they all filled some place in the puzzle. I know that’s not at all the same thing as what you’re saying, but what I’m getting at is… the heart wants what it wants.”
I stare at him, completely gobsmacked. Is my father actually quoting Emily Dickenson? Surely not, but that’s more likely than him quoting Selena Gomez. Unless they’ve recently had a sleepover with Grace, who is a pop music princess.
“As long as you’re happy and they treat you well—which is what I care about most—I trust that you know what you’re doing the same way you always have,” he continues, his voice even but also sincere. “Is it what I would’ve chosen? No. But it’s not my choice. Was there a time I would’ve fought you on this? Absolutely. And that’s only after someone stuck the situation in front of my too-distracted face, forcing my attention to the matter. But I’d like to think I’ve done some growing as each of my children has presented me with some hard truths.”
That’s putting it mildly. My brothers have outright called Dad on his shit many times over, despite all of them being carbon copies of the stubborn, stoic male specimen who’d rather pull away than discuss emotions. His path to having healthier relationships with each of them has changed him in many ways, all for the good. The man he was for a lot of years—distant and distracted—is not who he is today. Thankfully.
“So you’re okay with this?”
“What I am,” he says, chuckling and leaning back, “is irrelevant. I’m not qualified to judge anyone else. I’m as much of a fuck-up as the next guy.”
“What?” I gasp. My dad is definitely not perfect, but admitting it, especially so crudely, is shattering so many images I have of him that I’m having a hard time keeping up with this upside-down, tilty-turny version of him. I don’t like the unpredictability of his reaction, but I do appreciate his unexpected acceptance.