“Just a sec.” Harper tapped away at the screen. “Okay, I added you. All good?”
Frankie took a breath. It was exciting to think that they were reconnecting with their biological father. A little nerve-wracking, too, after their experience with Shar. But if they didn’t have a dialogue with him, they’d never know what could be.
She nodded. “All good. Send away.”
Chapter Eleven
Mitch’s sleep had been restless, so he’d gotten up and gone for his run while it was still dark. Even now, the horizon was just barely turning pink, and he’d already showered. It would be an hour or so before Joyce arrived to make breakfast.
With a cup of coffee in one hand, he went into his office and took out his journal and pen. He carried them to the back deck and took a seat in his usual chair. He didn’t like a lot of artificial light in the morning, but he’d left a few lights on inside, because otherwise, there wouldn’t be enough to see by.
Once the sky brightened enough, he’d turn them off.
Today was the boat outing. He was both dreading it and somewhat looking forward to it. The dread was winning by a small margin. He figured even looking forward in any amount had to be progress. He stared at the horizon line, watching the light slowly melt away the darkness.
That boat just held so many memories. Being on it for a few minutes was nothing compared to being on it for most of the day. How was he going to do that without crashing mentally and emotionally?
He clicked the pen and opened the journal, adding the date at the top of the page.
Today I’m taking Harper, Frankie, Willa, and Lucas out on the boat. I invited Joyce, but she said she had a lot to do to get ready for her sister’s arrival. I don’t think she likes the water that much. Being out on it, that is. Looking at it, she’s fine with.
I am worried that—his pen came off the paper as he hesitated. He’d journaled enough now that writing the hard things had gotten easier. But putting this on paper felt like the act of doing so might make it come true.
That was nonsense. The kind of thing that might happen in the sort of magical realm Charlie Nightingale inhabited. But this was real life. Reality didn’t work that way.
Although there was such a thing as a self-fulfilling prophecy.
He sighed and touched his pen to the paper again.I am worried that I will be overcome by memories and emotions. That I will break down in front of people I don’t know very well. Even as I write that, I know Harper will understand. I think her sister would, too.
I still don’t want it to happen.
I wasn’t raised to show a lot of emotion. Men in my family were supposed to be strong and hold their feelings in. I guess what I’m really worried about is looking weak in front of Lucas.
That’s just stupid. Lucas doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d worry about something like that himself. He seems better adjusted than most men I know. And very in touch with both his masculine and feminine sides.
Whereas I am clearly not. I don’t even think I have a feminine side. Somewhere, Jeanie is laughing about this.
A gentle smile bent his mouth, the image of his beautiful wife filling his head.
She was very definitely the mothering type. Kyle, if he were speaking to me, would agree. As fathers go, I think I was more the strong, silent type. Probably to my detriment. At least to the detriment of my relationship with my son. Would things be different now if I’d been a more touchy-feely parent? I’ll never know, but it does make me wonder.
Can I change now?He shook his head, thought a moment, then wrote,Do I want to? Do I care? What would it benefit me now, at this age, at this stage of my life? It won’t bring Jeanie back. Or Kyle. He wouldn’t know if I changed or not.
Harper would undoubtedly think getting in touch with my emotions was important. I would argue that I am in touch with my emotions. I just choose not to show them to most people. My grief is private.
But maybe keeping it all inside is part of the problem.
So maybe breaking down in front of these people might be a growth experience for me. Harper would probably approve of that outlook. I don’t. I loathe the idea. Why?
That took some more thinking. Some deep diving into what scared him. He drank half of his coffee before picking up his pen again.
I am afraid of being vulnerable. Of having that vulnerability used against me. But even as I write that, it makes no sense. None of the people coming on the boat today would do that. I might not know them well, but I feel that very strongly. Look how we all came together to help Harper. But would they do that for me? I think…I think they would.
Lucas is in a similar position as I am. He might not be as well-known as I am, but he understands what it means to have a public side to yourself. Maybe I should talk to him some more.
But again, that would make me vulnerable. It means opening myself up, even if it’s only in a small way. Why is that so terrifying?
I wish I could talk to Harper about this before we leave today. Maybe we’ll have a little time on the boat by ourselves. If not, we can always talk after. And I guess if I do break down, we’ll have a lot more to talk about.
