“So what if his parents got divorced? Everyone’s parents get divorced now. It’s like a trend, isn’t it?”
I shake my head and chuckle, wishing the statistics weren’t so black and white, but unfortunately, they are. “Yeah, but every situation is different—yours, for example. Most mothers don’t leave the state and their children hundreds of miles away. It’s draining and traumatizing for anyone, especially a child. But you’ve been strong and dealt with the situation better than I ever could.”
“Is this about Mom?” Hannah asks. We don’t talk about Kristy too often anymore. Hannah has a phone call with her once every few weeks, and that’s about it. It’s an awkward ten minutes back and forth about her classes—nothing too heartfelt, which is better off for Hannah at this point.
“No, it’s not about Mom.” I reach down and place my hand on top of Hannah’s, needing to hold her hand more than she’d ever need to hold mine. “Pete came to me when he was having trouble. I tried to do the right thing and be there for him. I listened when he wanted to talk. I tried. Then, one night, he went to the top of this high tower in the woods and—”
“A high tower in the woods?” Hannah interrupts. “Razor’s Edge?”
There’s one way to give me a heart attack. I was sure Hannah’s generation didn’t know a thing about Razor’s Edge. I actually spent countless nights staring out at the stars, wishing the place would just disappear, but it hasn’t—clearly. “I didn’t know you knew about that place.”
Hannah scoffs. “Dad, everyone knows about Razor’s Edge. It’s fun.”
“Yeah, I had a lot of fun there until Pete chose the tower to try and take his own life.”
Hannah covers her hand over her mouth. “Was it an accident?” I wish she could hold onto her innocence forever, but I know she already knows too much about life.
“No. He asked me to meet him. I got there just in time to stop him.” Hannah looks back over to the gravestone, tilting her head with a look of wonder in her eyes.
“So, what happened?”
“He never forgave me after that night. He hated me and blamed me for saving him—for not allowing him to take his life. He basically told me we couldn’t be friends anymore, but I stuck by his side despite his animosity toward me. It took months before he would talk to me again.”
“Why would someone hate you for saving them? Obviously, he wanted to be saved if he called you to meet him,” Hannah says.
I shrug because I still don’t understand. “No clue, kiddo. Anyway, it took a long time before I considered Pete to be in a better place and past the days of considering taking his own life.”
“That’s when he did it, isn’t it? The second everyone stopped worrying?” Hannah asks.
I hate that she understands or assumes—maybe even knows for sure. “Yeah. I let my guard down, but in reality, it wasn’t my responsibility to watch over him. I just felt like I had to do whatever I could to keep him on the right path, you know?”
“Did he jump off the tower?” Hannah asks.
I squeeze her hand and swallow the lump in my throat. “No, he asked me to pick him up before a football game. He said he’d be waiting in front of his house for me, but he wasn't outside when I got there. Instead, I found him unconscious on his bed, lying beside an empty bottle of pills. He wasn’t breathing, and he had no pulse. I dialed 9-1-1, watched them take him away, and followed them to the hospital. Then I sat in the waiting room for two hours.”
Hannah squeezes my hand back. “You tried to save him,” she says.
“His parents didn’t get my messages until three hours later—an hour after a doctor came out to tell me how sorry he was that they couldn’t revive him. I had to tell Pete’s parents that their son had killed himself.”
“Dad, I—” There’s nothing I expect Hannah to say. I still don’t know if this was the right thing to tell her or share with her at this point in her life, but I couldn’t save him—maybe I can make her understand the implications of silent thoughts and quiet pain. I want her to know why I try to get into her head and ask her a million questions every day. I want her to be honest with me and tell me how she feels, knowing I won’t judge her—unless it has to do with a guy I don’t approve of. That doesn’t count. It can’t count.
“I don’t want you to have to say anything. I don’t need empathy. I just want you to understand why I hover—why I worry and care as much as I do. I need for you to understand that even when life seems like it can’t get any better, it can. I was the one who had to live with the pain after. He passed it on to me —the guilt, the never-ending ache in my chest. There were other ways to ease his pain but he didn’t know.”
“You don’t think I would—”
“Does any parent? No. Could it happen to any child? Yes. For that, I’m being proactive and sharing this with you after going years and years with only one other person knowing the magnitude of this story.”
“Journey?” Hannah asks.
“Journey hasn’t had the easiest of roads either. She has an amazing mother, and her father was incredible, but he passed. She’s had things—sad things that happened to her, which is why we understand each other on a deeper level than most. That’s her story to share with you, though when she’s ready.” I’m getting sidetracked. “Hannah, my point is—would I assume you would do something like this? No. Am I afraid of the possibility? Yes. I don’t want this silent barrier between us. I need to know how you feel and be able to help you with your pain if it weighs heavily on you. I’m your dad, and it’s what I will always do for you.“
“Dad, I’d never hurt myself. I’m sorry if my moods cause you to fear for my life, but I’m not as miserable as you think I am. I just like to be in my head a lot, I guess.”
“You’re not in pain?”
Hannah shakes her head and turns to look into my eyes. “How could I be in pain when you’ve done nothing but make me a priority since the day I was born. It sounds like Pete had two parents who kind of sucked. I have one parent who sucks, but I have the best dad in the entire world, making up for the other half. I’d rather have one amazing parent than two mediocre parents. Plus, Journey—she’s like a best friend and a stepmom, and I feel kind of lucky to get a second chance at being a part of a normal family, you know?”
I am not an emotional guy. Nothing much gets to me. I laugh at the world when I get mad, but tears are filling my eyes. I don’t know if my heart is so overwhelmed with relief or love, but I feel like all the years I thought I was screwing everything up, I was actually doing something right.
