Harrison comes into my line of vision, and I’m immediately concerned. “Harrison.” His head snaps up. “Are you okay? You don’t look so great.”
He stands and kisses me hello. “Thanks, baby. Are you telling me I look like shit?”
I giggle and hug him tightly around his waist. “Pretty much. Yes—” I stop mid sentence when I see a man sitting in the seat beside Harrison.
I take an unsteady step back at the familiar yet not-so-familiar face. “Jules, this is?—”
“I know who this is. Why are you here?” I ask, my voice shaky, then turn toward Harrison, questioning him with a glower.
While my father was alive, I never felt the need to investigate my estranged family. Deep down, it felt like a betrayal toward my dad; however, once he was gone, my curiosity got the better of me, especially when digging into who Harrison was.
The man before me opens his mouth, but no words come out. Harrison looks between us and decides to take over, guiding me to one of the chairs and introduces me to Philip—my uncle.
“You look so much like him.” My uncle mumbles more to himself.
“Thank you,” I say for no reason other than being at a loss for any other words. I turn to Harrison. “Can you please get me some water, and can someone tell me what’s going on?”
When Harrison stands, Philip catches my eyes. “You’re under no obligation to stay and listen, and I completely understand if you want to leave, but I would like to tell you how I finally met my brother. Your father.” Philips’s pleading eyes beg me to stay. His peculiar wording piques my interest, so I nod, agreeing, too curious about what he has to say.
And I’m glad I did…for the last thirty minutes, I’ve sat here listening to how my uncle rekindled his relationship with my father.
He explained that because my father lived so far away for boarding school and college, my uncle was never given a chance to get to know my dad and only knew what his parents and siblings told him. He said after a year of questions and made-up information, they were all forbidden to speak my father’s name.
“How did you finally speak again?” I ask.
My uncle smiles at the memory. “I was buying flowers for my wife at the florist when the door chimed, and I heard a man cursing the place down because he clumsily fell over the front mat…” He pauses. “Are you okay, Juliette?”
I wipe my tears. “Yes, sorry. I’m a crier, and I can imagine the exact scenario you’re painting. Happy tears, I promise.”
Harrison has been quiet, letting me take it all in at my own pace, but the small squeezes he gives my hand is a thoughtful reminder he’s here.
“The second your father lifted his head, I knew he was my brother. He stood there, shocked to see me as well. I’m not sure if he had seen a picture of me or not, but I hadn’t seen him since I was a child, yet we both knew.”
Harrison hands me a tissue. I’m a sobbing mess now, and I can tell my uncle is trying his hardest to hold back his tears. “He bought my mom flowers every week at the same florist at the same time. He was a creature of habit.”
He hangs his head, sighing heavily with anguish. “He told me. Funnily enough, I also bought my wife flowers every week…at that same florist…at the same time. My wife had an important doctor’s appointment that day, so I left work early and stopped at the florist first. I only wish it happened years earlier.”
Grief and despair for both my father and uncle tears at my heart. What a cruel world we live in sometimes. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I know you’re upset that you had very little time with him, but think of it as a blessing you had, at least that. He was an amazing man, and I count anyone who crossed paths with him lucky.”
Harrison scoots his chair toward mine and pulls me into him. If it weren’t for my uncle, a stranger, I know he’d be placing me on his lap instead. He hates it when I’m upset.
My uncle smiles softly. “That’s a beautiful way to think of it, Juliette. Thank you for passing along your positivity. I’ll remind myself of it when I think about him. Which is often.”
“I’m positive, but I also believe in signs, and I believe you met when you did for a reason. I’m not one hundred percent sure why, but I would like to think that you eased my dad’s last year of life.”
My uncle unconsciously reaches forward to take my free hand, then pulls back when he realizes what he’s doing, so I reach out and take his, smiling sympathetically.
He reminds me so much of my father. I can tell he has a kind heart, and what he has said today is the truth.
He pats the top of my hand with his other, then releases me. “He brought me to one of your performances when we first reconnected. He was very proud of you, you’re all he spoke about, and your mom. I could tell he loved her very much.” I should be shocked, but I’m not. It’s exactly something my dad would do. He loved to show me off and told me on a daily basis how proud he was. “There is no pressure, but I would love to get to know you and your mom. I know my wife feels the same, and I would like you to meet my children.”
I suck in a breath. “You have children?”
He pulls out his phone to show me a picture of a pre-teen girl and a baby boy.
These people are my family…
“They’re beautiful.”
