“It’s no one’s fault. I was addicted to pills at the time. I was draining our excess funds left and right. I had a serious problem, and I needed rehab. I needed time to get sober.”
“So, what happened after rehab? Assuming this is all true, which I’ll run by Mom later,” I said.
“That’s fine. You do what you have to do. But it’s all true.”
“So, what happened after rehab? Why didn’t you come back?”
“I tried. Your mother wanted me to stay in a place of my own for a month after. You know, to see if the sobriety stuck.”
“And let me guess. It didn’t,” I said flatly.
“No, it didn’t. I did rehab three separate times. Obeyed her monthlong rule three times. But by then, I had been gone for over a year, and it seemed like you kids were getting along fine without me.”
There was something about his story that seemed off. Even with the sincerity in his eyes and in the way he furrowed his brow—like I did—there was something I didn’t trust in his words.
“I’m not buying it,” I said.
“And that’s fine. I don’t expect you to take it as truth from me, and I sure as hell don’t expect you to forgive me right away. But I am going to find a way to make this up to you,” he said.
“Have you just been falling off the wagon for the past twenty years, then? Is that why you didn’t come back?”
Daniel sighed. “After seeing how well off you guys were without me, I took my sobriety and kept it to myself. I sent money to your mother when I could, but then she stopped accepting it. Said you guys were fine and that none of you needed me.”
“So again, this is Mom’s fault.”
“It’s no one’s fault. It is what it is. I should have worked harder to be in Mike’s and your life. I should have continued calling on birthdays and holidays. I should have sent letters, or pictures, or presents. Or something. And I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re sorry,” I said.
“I’m going to make this up to you. I’m not sure how I’m going to do it, but I’m sticking around in this hotel for a while, and I’m going to find a way to do it. I want to be part of your life now.”
“After all the hard work is done raising me.”
Our food came out quickly and was set in front of us, but neither of us pulled away to look at it. I studied his face and the parts of his body I could see. I had his furrowed brow, his stern brown eyes. I had his high cheekbones and his thick head of dark hair. But everything else about him screamed my brother. The way his shoulders hunched. How broad his body was. How strong his jawline was and how his lips naturally downturned into a frown.
Did he even know about Mike? About how estranged my brother had become to the family?
“Have you talked with Mike?” I asked.
Daniel sighed. “Your mother won’t tell me how to get in touch with him, and I haven’t heard from him, no.”
“That’s because none of us know how to get in touch with him.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “Last we heard, Mike was backpacking and couch-surfing in Europe. He pops up on our radar every now and again. He called Mom a couple of weeks back, talking about how his next journey was taking him to Australia. He doesn’t stay in one place for long. Guess he learned that from a young age.”
My father’s eyes danced over my face before he picked up his fork.
“Well, maybe I’ll just have to fly out somewhere and see him, then,” Daniel said.
And I couldn’t even string together the right words to try and explain why that sentence made me so fucking angry inside.
12
Brett
I kept my eye on the clock and my ear out for my phone to ring. Olivia hadn’t called me at all last night, which made me nervous. I wanted to know how things had gone with her father. How the talk over steaks at some mediocre steak house had gone. Nine o’clock. Ten o’clock. Eleven o’clock. Hour by hour ticked by, and not a word from Olivia. I kept getting emails from her—electronic paperwork she had signed off on and invoices she forwarded to me after altering them for whatever reason. She was sharp. A very hard worker. But I wasn’t concerned about her work for the moment.
I was concerned about her.
When lunchtime rolled around, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I pushed away from my desk and locked my office door behind me, then made my way down to the ninth floor. If Olivia didn’t want to come to me and talk, then I’d go to her. And if she didn’t want to talk, I wouldn’t push it.