But he doesn’t try to do anything or even hint at anything. I miss him. I miss him so damn much.
***
RYE
Staring up at my dad’s house for the third time this week is a little disconcerting, but I think I’m finally ready to see him.
Dad opens the door and steps out, surprising me. He never comes outside very often. He rarely goes anywhere at all anymore. Not since Mom died. He even dates online before marrying his gold diggers.
“You want to talk to me?” he asks, coming closer. He stops when he reaches the gazebo outside, and he takes a seat on the swing. “Or are you just going to keep coming by and staring up at the old house?”
With a burdened breath, I go to join him. For a long time, we both just sit here, staring into space. I finally break the silence.
“Did you go to see Brin?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “And you did good. That girl loves you. You know it’s the good love when you can see it in their eyes. All I had to do was introduce myself and the girl nearly fainted.”
I wish that didn’t make me smile. I love and hate the fact that she loves me.
“Did she tell you?” he asks, looking off into the distance.
“No. Ethan mentioned it. Apparently he saw you leaving the museum. He was going to talk to her that day, though he wouldn’t tell me why.”
/> He also didn’t stay after he saw my father leaving. That’s bugging me.
Dad just grins for a moment before covering it with a serious face. “Probably for the same reason I went.” Before I can ask questions, he adds, “She’s why you’re here.” And it’s not a question.
“Part of the reason,” I murmur, sitting back just as he does.
The swing rocks us back and forth, and several more long moments of silence pass between us.
“I punish myself, too,” he says, leaning his head back. I don’t have to ask him what he means, but he elaborates anyway. “I marry women who hate me, because I’m scared of having a woman who loves me. But it’s so empty when I look at them, that I have it annulled right away. Usually. Or I never marry them and just let them live here until I can’t stand it anymore. But the house is always so empty without anyone here.”
More silence. There’s nothing I want to say about that, because we’ll end up arguing.
“You love her, don’t you?” he asks earnestly.
I love her so much that I’m miserable without her. But it doesn’t change anything, does it?
Since I’m not ready to share that, I keep it to myself and stare at my motorcycle. All I can think about is Brin on the back of it, squeezing her thighs against me while she laughs excitedly.
“I’m worried about what will happen when I fuck up. Most people haven’t seen love the way I have. I guess that goes for you, too.”
He nods slowly, his eyes trained on an imaginary spot on the ground. “It tends to fuck someone up.” I almost smile when he says that. Almost.
It feels weird to sit here and have a conversation, but for the first time since I was ten, I don’t feel angry. Not at him. Not at anything. I’m just... well, I have every emotion except for anger right now. It’s different... Refreshing now that the loss of my anger is not so scary.
“I’ve already fucked with her head. I didn’t even mean to. I kept saying everything I needed to at some points, but sometimes I’d say things that I didn’t mean to. I kept giving her hope with those few slip-ups, and I kept contradicting myself with my actions. With her, all the lines were blurred and I trampled all over my own rules. And then I stomped all over her heart in the process. I’m just as confused as she is, and it’s all my fault. She was never anything but perfect to me.”
His lip quivers, but he steadies it quickly. “That’s the really good stuff. When you can’t force yourself to detach from someone, you’ve got something rare. You become consumed in the most maddening way, but it’s the best damn feeling there is out there.”
I look at him, feeling hope slip away. “So you had that with Mom but lost it?”
He frowns as he looks down. “I had it with her, but she didn’t have it with me. She loved me, but she didn’t love me like that. Even before she got sick, she never loved me like I loved her. But I took what I could get because I knew what I felt for her was rare. It’s even rarer if you find someone who feels that way about you. It’s a beautiful thing that slips through your fingers if you aren’t paying attention. And believe me when I say it’s hard to ever find again.”
I lean over and prop my elbows on my knees as I try to absorb his words. This is the first time I’ve ever been able to speak about my mother without feeling knots packed with anger. But my body is relaxed and that odd new peace is still coursing through me.
“Brin felt the same way. I don’t know if she still does, but she felt it. And she had to hold it back because she was worried about pushing me away. She kept giving, and I did nothing in return. I filled her full of angst and constant confusion. As shitty as it feels for me, maybe I did her a favor.”