“You are trouble.” He hugged me tightly. “My favorite kind.”
Then he went quiet.
“I didn’t know they saw me like that,” he said finally, voice low. “I’ve spent so long trying to be good at what I do, I didn’t realize how much of me got through.”
He held my gaze. “It’s not about the Cup anymore. It’s about the people who showed up with me. Those videos… the best shoutout I could’ve asked for any time of a season.”
I kissed his cheek. “Exactly.”
When he finally got up to finish getting ready, something in him looked lighter. As if the weight he’d carried for years had finally shifted. I walked him out and stood on the porch,watching him drive away. The morning glowed, bright and still, but that small ache in me—the one about my mom—kept nudging for air.
I used to love sitting with my dad on the porch on weekends, watching him tidy up his work week. Papers with numbers scattered across the table, cold coffee beside him. Now he works at the golf course.
I texted him.
Me:Hey dad, can I meet you at work later? I’ll give you a ride back. Today, you work half a day, right?
Dad:Hey sweetie! Yes. Are you alright?
Me:Yeah, just want to talk.
Dad:Of course, come over.
I threw my stuff in my car and drove out. The golf course was quiet when I arrived, it was early before the weekend crowd fully trickled in. I wandered past the clubhouse, letting the sun warm my shoulders, the scent of cut grass and oak filling the air.
Half an hour later, my phone buzzed.
Dad:I’m done now. Meet me by the cart path?
I spotted him near the edge of the driving range, his cap on, khakis dusted with green. He waved, and I walked over.
“Hey, sweetie,” he said, pulling me into a hug that felt familiar.
“Hi, Dad.”
We started down the walking path that curved around the course, the trees casting dappled shadows across the gravel. For a while, we didn’t talk, we just walked, the silence companionable.
Then— “I miss the time you and I spent together when you worked from home… but with Mom, I always felt like I had to earn everything. Her approval, her affection. As if I only existed to be the version of me she wanted, and if I slipped, I wasn’t enough.”
Dad’s steps slowed. “Mel…”
“I never told you. I felt stuck, as if saying it out loud wouldn’t feel right.”
He stopped completely, turning to face me. “I’m sorry. I always knew she was hard on you, but you seemed to be holding your own. You’ve got such a strong character. I didn’t realize you felt pushed, that you were keeping the peace.”
I swallowed. “I didn’t know how to ask for help without feeling like I was betraying her. Then college happened. I was away from her, that helped.”
“And now she’s back home and you’re reliving your teen years.” His voice was low, eyes were glassy. He shook his head. “I can’t believe I missed that.”
“You were busy providing for us, you couldn’t have known unless I opened up.” I took his hand. “You’ve always been a great dad.”
We kept walking.
“I talked with Sean. He said if I decided to have a conversation with her, maybe I could bring someone who knows her. Not to speak for me, just as a witness.”
Dad nodded slowly. “Smart man.” Then his brow lifted. “Me?”
“You know all our history.”
