Okay, maybe I was also curious. When you’re a kid, and one parent is absent, you eventually understand that the one present is holding your life together with a little duct tape, some patchy glue, and a lot of love. It’s the opposite of the parent who isn’t there.
I trusted my mother completely, and I knew she had told my father of my existence. So I’d spent most of my life wondering why he never reached out. His existence was a giant question mark in my life, my mind, and my heart.
With my mom seated beside me at the kitchen table, her gaze was warm. “Okay, are you ready?” she asked.
I angled my head to the side, giving her a look. “Yeah, Mom. I’m ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s just do this.” I bit back a sigh.
Within a minute, a man’s voice came through the line.
“Hi, Claudia.”
It felt like a ball of energy slammed into my solar plexus. I’d never even heard my father’s voice.
“Hi, Mark, I have Kincaid here,” my mom said.
My father went very quiet, but I could hear the sound of his breathing and tried to ignore the rattle in it. “Hi,” he said simply.
“Hi. My mom wanted to call,” I replied.
Although a buzzy energy was coursing through me and my fingertips were tingling from it, I could still speak, somehow. I figured I might as well be truthful about how this call came to be. My mom narrowed her eyes, pressing her lips together. I could see the disappointment contained in her gaze, but it was what it was. She was the one who had taught me about the importance of being honest.
My dad cleared his throat. He couldn’t mask the fact that his breathing was labored, and he sounded, to be uncomfortably honest with myself, pretty sick. “I’m sure you think I’m an asshole, because I know your mom. Maybe I only knew her for a short time, but I have zero doubt that she’s been—and is—an incredible mother to you.”
My chest tightened, and I blinked away the sting of tears in my eyes. “She is.”
“Do you have any questions for me?” he asked.
I paused, trying to gather my thoughts amidst the snarling mess of my emotions. “Aside from things about family history and so on, which Mom has kind of gotten for me, I guess I want to know why.”
I hoped he knew what I meant because it was really going to suck if he didn’t.
But he did. He let out a slow and heavy sigh. “Because I was young and stupid. And then, after I stopped being young and stupid, I was a coward. I wish I had some great explanation—something that made sense. If I’m being honest, which I am, I spent years trying to think of how I could reach out and how I could cover up my absence from your life. I completely let you down, and I completely let your mother down. That remains my deepest regret, and I will go to my grave with it.”
His blunt truth slammed into me, almost freezing me for a moment. I took a quiet breath, trying to steady myself as my mother jumped in.
“I appreciate your honesty, Mark. We did just fine on our own.”
“Mom,” I cut in. “Yeah, we did fine, but you barely squeaked by sometimes.”
She pinned me with a look, and I could see the hint of disappointment there, but I wasn’t as forgiving as her. “You can’t see my mom’s face, but she’s pissed with me. She’s nicer than me. I didn’t have a dad, and I always wondered why. Well, I mean, I had one—you—but I do appreciate your honesty. I’m glad you agreed to finally talk to me. What’s going on with your health?” I cut straight to the core with that question. I needed to know.
“I’m sick. I have a lung disease from exposure to something during my military time.”
“It sounds uncomfortable,” I pointed out.
“It is.” I could practically feel his shrug through the phone line. “I’m okay. I mean, as okay as I can be.”
“How long do you have to live?”
My mom gave me another look, and I ignored her. This wasn’t all rainbows for me. I guess it was good. I wouldn’t call this conversation closure because I didn’t really believe in closure, but it offered me answers. It offered answers to so many questions that had lingered inside of me for so long.
“Six months, give or take. I don’t expect you to want to meet me, and I can’t travel,” he said.
“We could do video calls,” my mom chirped, her voice bright.
I rolled my eyes, but I humored her. “We could, Mom.”
I heard Mark’s chuckle. “It’s up to you, Kincaid. I would actually love to see you before…” He cleared his throat roughly. “Whether it’s video or in person, I’d love to see you before I pass. Not because I expect it to be easy. I know that I can’t repair what happened. But I just want you to know I will die with this weighing heavily on me. I let you down, and I’m grateful your mom reached out again.”
