She looks down as she brings her hands up to rest on her cheeks like she's taking a moment to consider exactly what she wants to say to me.
"You are an amazing father. When Geneva became pregnant, I admit I wasn't sure how you would respond. You've resisted anything serious when it comes to love and relationships for as long as I can remember." She pauses for a minute. "Actually, ever since Dad died."
"Ok, Sarah, we're not going there."
The last thing I want to do is hash out my father's death and the aftermath of the heartache he left behind. Having your father pass away when you are young is one thing. Watching your mother basically check out of life because of it is another.
"Why not, Grant? You never go there, and I think that is your biggest problem."
"Ok, my biggest problem is not wanting to rehash something that happened over twenty years ago?"
"No, your biggest problem is letting something that happened when you were eleven years old and processed with an eleven-year-old brain make decisions for a grownup, thirty-six-year-old man who lives a completely different life than his mother did."
The punch lands. Watching the woman who is supposed to take care of you check out of her role as a mother fucks with a kid. I understood her grief; I missed my dad, too. He was a great dad. What I couldn't understand was how the grief stole her from me.
She was a vibrant lady before. She showed up to every school activity and bake sale and fed the neighborhood kids when we were hungry. She cared for me when I was sick. She made our house a home with decorations to celebrate every holiday and planned the best summer vacations. She did everything you'd expect a mom to do. And all of it, everything, just disappeared when he did.
My sister picked up a lot of the slack since she was older. We wouldn't have even had a Christmas tree that first year if Sarah hadn't pulled all the decorations down and set it all up herself. I watched what love did to my mother, and I swore I would never fall in love. I wouldn't—I won't lose myself because of love.
Sarah doesn't understand the logic, but she's stronger than Mom. She loves in spite of hurt. Hell, she just got out ofa ten-year relationship with her partner that should have destroyed her, but instead, she moved out here to start fresh and is already dating again. I wish I were like that, but I know I'm just like my mother.
"What does that even have to do with Sophia going behind my back to spend time with Hazel?"
"Cut the shit, Grant. She didn't go behind your back. You're mad because you have feelings. You're mad because you don't know what to do with those feelings, but you do know how to push people away."
Another sucker punch. That one hurt.
"You never let yourself get close to anyone. In fact, I bet you have some system you follow where it's a max of five dates or five weeks, whichever is longer, and then you politely bow out of any more interaction."
It's six weeks or twelve dates, whichever is longer. I do have an emergency ripcord if the woman gets too clingy, but I don't tell her that.
"You make me sound like a terrible person. I have a daughter to consider, too."
"You didn't even try to make it work with Geneva."
"She didn't want to try."
"Maybe. But we'll never know because it wasn't even in the realm of possibility. What I can't understand, though, is the disconnect between your resistance to an intimate, romantic relationship for you and the deep love and devotion you have for your daughter."
My eyes snap up to hers as a look of confusion crosses my face. "It's totally different. She's my blood. She has my DNA."
There is no alternative with Hazel. It was never an optionnot to love her with everything I have. It just was and always will be love.
"It's the same. You let yourself open to the possibility. You could lose Hazel the same way you could lose a partner, but somewhere in your head, you've let yourself take the risk with Hazel. The reward is worth it."
My mind is spinning. She doesn't understand that I didn't have a choice with Hazel. And I'm glad I didn't. I love Hazel with everything I have. It's just not the same as loving someone else, someone romantically. It's different. Right?
"Look. I love you. I don't want to fight with you. You're different with Sophia. You've broken so many of your little rules because of your desire to be around her. You're happy. Go with it. Take the chance. If anyone is worth the risk, I'd say it's her."
I rise out of my chair and go to rinse my glass out in the sink. I hear the chair scrape the floor, indicating my sister is leaving the table, too. When I turn around, I'm alone, and I guess our conversation is over. But the damage is done. She landed the knockout punch.
I admit that Sophia has gotten further into my heart than anyone else I've ever dated or been with, but that doesn't make it love.
The chimes coming from the front living room announce the arrival of pizza, and I silently thank my sister for having the foresight to order in. I don't think I could do a sit-down dinner after that intervention.
Pizza and salad boxes cover the coffee table, and I settle in on the couch, ready to zone out to another viewing ofWall-E. We've seen it a million times now, so zoning outwon't be an issue. I'll be able to laugh and respond on autopilot if needed, and it means no more talking with my sister.
I spend the next hour in my head about Sophia and wondering what it might be like if she were here eating with us tonight. What if she were part of our family routine?
