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I didn’t remember telling him about New York, but we exchanged so many messages over the past few days I might have dropped it into conversation. “Hale wanted a big, traditional ceremony but at a destination everyone could get to.”
He handed me back my phone. “Looks like you’ve got some life, kiddo.”
Kiddo…
I’d forgotten how he used to call me that in his cards and sporadic phone calls. It was strange how so much of this was brand new, but there were little hints of familiarity, like the way he cleared his throat every few minutes and dropped the Rs at the end of words.
The waitress returned and we both ordered a cocktail. A margarita on the rocks for me and a Jack and Coke for him. When the waitress left, we opened up the menus.
“What do you like to eat?” he asked, perusing the options.
“I’m thinking if the desserts are good enough to drive all this way, we should start there.”
He flipped to the last page. “My kind of girl. Do you like chocolate?”
“It’s one of my basic food groups.”
“Then order the hot house brownies over ice cream. They’re to die for.”
“Say less.” I shut my menu.
In my life there had been a lot of situations and people I always felt out of rhythm with. My peers always seemed more informed than me, and I went through most stages of life feeling like I skipped an important chapter. But my dad wasn’t like that.
With him, I felt like we were both on the same page, as if a switch that had been shut off for decades suddenly flicked on and everything worked fine. We were instantly in sync. We clicked. Our easy chemistry made my heart full and warm, and any worries I had that this might be a mistake disappeared.
My dad knew a lot about desserts, concrete work, movies that involved Robert DeNiro, and carburetors. “That’s what I did back in Oregon, fixed cars.”
We annihilated our desserts and then moved on to burgers and fries. “Do you miss it?”
“Being a mechanic?”
“Oregon.”
“Oh.” He popped a fry in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “I did for a while. Missed you, your mom… But Oregon wasn’t right for me. I wasn’t right as long as I was living there. My life had always been here, on the East Coast.”
He left me for a coast? “Is that why you left?”
“Yes and no.” He pulled another fry from his plate, but didn’t eat it. Instead, he just repeatedly dipped it into the pile of ketchup while looking down at his plate. “We were young. Especially me. Your mother wasn’t worried about being a parent. It came naturally to her. But for me… You were just so fragile and small. I was terrified I’d break you.”
It was hard to hear his reasons for leaving, but at the same time, I got it. “I felt the same way when Elara was born.”
“So you know.”
I nodded. “Hale’s a natural with her. Sometimes he tosses her around and gets her belly-laughing so hard. I could never do that. I’m too clumsy.”
He pointed to his nose. “Me too.”
When we finished lunch we ordered another round of drinks. I wasn’t ready to leave. Not without asking him.
“Dad…” I took a long sip of my second margarita. “I know this is still new and I’m not giving you much notice, but…do you think you might want to come to my wedding?”
He studied me for a long moment without saying anything. Then he asked, “You’re sure you want me there?”
His presence was literally the only thing I wanted besides Hale’s on my wedding day. “Positive.”
He gave a wide gap-toothed grin. “Then I’d love to be there.”
An enormous weight lifted off my shoulders and I smiled into my glass. “We’ll have a seat reserved for you in the front.”
