“I saw,” I interrupt, offering him a soft, crooked smile. “I read all of the emails, remember?”
“Right.” Dad sighs, hanging his head. “My girl…”
“I really, really wish you’d told me. I’m hurt that you didn’t, and I’m hurt by who youdidtell.”
“Milo was sort of in the wrong place at the right time,” he confesses quietly. “But he is a good one, Prue. He cares so deeply for you. I hope you don’t think—”
“That he kept a secret that was going to heavily impact my life and therefore lied to me? Yeah, I do,obviously.But that’s for him and me to figure out.”
“I’ve made a real mess of things,” he says, tightening his grasp on my hand as he grimaces. “I am so sorry, kid.”
“That’s just it, Dad. I’m not a kid. Not anymore. You need to stop treating me like one.”
Dad locks eyes with me and nods twice, a determined look on his face as if he isfinallyplanning on hearing me. “I know, darling, I do…I just…It’s hard to explain.”
“Try me.” I lean back in my chair as he smiles crookedly with an otherwise wistful expression.
“When you were freshly born,” he says slowly, “still pink and covered in gunk, the midwife hoisted you from between your mother’s legs and showed you off to us.” He pauses, smiling fondly at the memory. “It felt as if the world came to a stop. Realities shifted, shattered, and re-formed in an instant. And I knew my life would be forever divided into the time before you and the time after you. That revolutionary memory, to this day, is still only comparable to the seconds after laying eyes on your mother for the first time.” He clears his throat, then bows his head as he pauses to collect himself.
I give him the time to do so, rubbing my thumb over the back of his hand—memorizing the mountains and valleys of his knuckles.
“But unlike when I met your mom,youcame onto the scene wailing.” He laughs, and I do too, shyly. “I was awed by you just like I was by your mother, ofcourse,but the awe was swiftlyfollowed by a tidal wave of fear. There was simply no way something as little as you, I thought, could survive. No possible way that I could be half responsible for something so precious and helpless and not royally fuck it up.” Dad glances up to the ceiling, then back to my face with sparkling wet eyes.
“Dad…” I whisper, wrapping my hand around his.
“I had never been so scared.” He looks across the table longingly, as if he’s seeing the memory play out in front of him. I turn, foolishly, in the hopes that I could see it too.
“But then they placed you on your mom’s chest. You immediately calmed, rooted, and found her breast without a second’s hesitation. You fed voraciously, as if you’d been starving. Gulping and greedy and suddenly seeming so much stronger than that precious, fragile thing they’d just shown me. And I finally breathed. I knew at that moment that you’d be all right. That we’d all be all right.” He pats my hand again, his voice strangled by his emotions. “I realized then that all Mom and I would have to do is point you in the right direction and you would take what you needed out of this life.”
My heart swells inside of my chest, longing to set him at ease once and for all. “Dad, I—”
“That is all I’ve tried to do since that day, Prue. Point you in the right direction so you could take what you needed. And, lately, I have been so scared that I’m failing at that. That you’re not getting your fill here. That you’ve been denying yourself for our sake.”
“I’m not, Dad.”
He nods, squeezing my hand tightly. “If you say this is enough for you, I will believe you. If you can dig yourself a deep enough well here—one that will truly sustain every part of you, one deep enough to never run dry, one that will fill you to satisfaction—then youshouldstay. Of course I want you to stay, my girl. I just never want you to starve in the process. Promise me, please, that you’ll never starve yourself foranyone.”
“I promise, Dad.” I rise out of my chair and step toward him, bending down to hug his shoulders. “I promise,” I repeat in a whisper.
“I’m sorry, Prue. I’m so sorry.”
“I forgive you,” I tell him. “But only because you’re not going to like what happens next,” I say, straightening to my full height. Dad looks up at me with nervous curiosity lighting his features. “We, old man, are becoming a democracy,” I tease. “No more secrets. No more decision-making for our family, or for Mom, without discussion. If we’re going to make this work, if we’re going to keep this family under one roof and run a business while life throws yet another shitstorm at us…then we’ll have to figure it out together. And, no more delaying treatment. We’re going to get you fixed up, okay?”
“And you’re absolutely sure?” he asks me, eyes searching my face.
I sigh, then nod. “Yes, Dad.”
“All righty then,” he replies sheepishly. “Heard loud and clear.”
“First things first, I want you to call that home you’d saved Mom a room at today. Let them know she willnotbe coming.”
“But, darling…” Dad says.
“I will figure it out, okay? You need to trust me.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, my toes tapping against the floor. “Mom isn’t going anywhere. Not yet…Not until we have no choices left.”
“Okay, Prue.”
“Then, you’re going to email your doctor and ask for an appointment. I will be going with you.”
