We eat in comfortable silence, and after our plates are cleared and we’re waiting for the check, my father sits back in his chair and looks out at the mountains rising out of the water nearby.
“I did visit her, you know. When she was sick.”
My mouth goes dry. There’s no question who he’s talking about.
“You had exams that day,” he adds.
She made me promise to go to my exams. She didn’t want me failing a semester of school for her, even if I didn’t care.
“She slept most of the time, but we did talk a bit. I left before you got there.”
“Why?” And why is he telling me this?
“Couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes, after what I had done. After all that I had missed. It’s why I missed her funeral.” Heshakes his head to himself. “I was a coward, Jordan, and I was distracting myself. You were better off without me.”
I blink, processing this. It’s what I wanted for years, but hearing him take accountability isn’t as satisfying as I would have thought. An ugly discomfort takes up space around my lungs at hearing him talk about himself like this.
“If I were around more,” he says, looking weary and old once again, “maybe I would have known about the symptoms. I would have encouraged her to get checked earlier. I would have gotten her a second, third, and fourth opinion.” His eyes close and a pulse of empathy goes off inside me. “Maybe she’d still be here today.”
Three months ago, I would have agreed. I would have jumped at the chance to cause him pain like he caused me.
He’s had enough, though, from what I can see. He’s carried this for years.
“It wasn’t treatable,” I say quietly. “They only found a new method of treatment a few years ago.” The team researching treatments received a massive windfall of funding shortly after my mom passed.
Something about his unsurprised expression makes me sit up straighter. It clicks. “You donated that money to the lab so they could research treatment methods.”
He studies the skyline again. “It was the least I could do.” He blows a heavy breath out, looking down, weighing his words. “I’ve been seeing a therapist.”
Now I really am dreaming. My dad, seeing a therapist. I’m not sure I heard right.
“I asked her how to get my daughter back, but she didn’t want to talk about you. She wanted to talk aboutme.” He folds his arms. “When things get tough, I’ve realized, I submerge myself into things that keep me busy instead of the things I don’t want to think about. It’s what I’ve always done. For a long time, I felt that my only accomplishment was what I could achieve on the ice and inthe business world, when really, Jordan,” he hesitates. His hands are shaking, “youare my greatest achievement. The woman you’ve grown into, without any help from me.”
I’m speechless. Emotion squeezes my throat. For every ounce of anger I’ve felt toward him, he feels it toward himself tenfold.
And to hear that he’s proud of me? It’s everything.
“My father, he—things were different when I was growing up. The men brought home the bacon, and if you couldn’t do that, you were letting your family down. Somewhere along the way, I let it get out of control.”
There’s so much sincerity in his gaze.
“I love you more than anything, though, Jordan.Youare my life’s purpose. You will always be my daughter, and I will never stop loving you. I’m sorry that wasn’t clear. I’m so sorry.”
The back of my scalp prickles as I stare at him, a growing sense of something sweet and sharp moving up my throat. He didn’t choose work over me. He didn’t choose Tate over me.
Hewaschoosing me, just in his messed-up, gender-normative way.
I’m not unloved. I never was.
He’s human. Like the rest of us. He has regrets and misses her, like I do. It took bravery to bare himself like this and admit fault.
“You look so much like your mother,” he says quietly. “You have my hair color, but your eyes are hers.”
I don’t say anything.
“And you’re stubborn like her,” he adds quietly. “Smart and motivated. Clever, watchful. You notice the small things. She always did, too.” He sighs. “I miss your mother, and I hate myself for not being there. And I miss you, too.”
“Okay,” I croak, finally saying something.
