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And thank goodness I was. I might have been a shitty dad the past twenty-nine years, but no one can take away the absolute full-body love that overcame me at the sound of my son’s first cry or the first time I held him and felt that life was worth a lot more than the silly club or the Lyons family name.
Instead of running toward that feeling, though, I ran away from it. Pushed it away. Told myself that I wasn’t made for fatherhood. I was made for business.
Besides, the way I decided I could support Nate, and then Jack, and then Abigail, was with my money. Why would they wantmewhen they had their mothers and could have my money?
I can’t believe how wrong I’ve been all this time.
My eyes settle on my daughter again. “Honey.”
Abigail lifts her green eyes.
“Could you…um…”
I don’t want to cry in front of her. It’s a stupid point ofpride, but one I hang onto, nonetheless. “I’ll take over for a bit. Why don’t you go take a walk? Grab us some coffee. Try Jack again, if you can.”
Jack has been busy at work, his phone probably buried under a pile of manila folders and drowned out by the sound of stockbrokers yelling at one another.
She looks at her brother and then back at me.
I can tell it’s not easy for her to leave.
Abigail, though, has always been my biggest supporter. Daddy’s girl.
Right now, I couldn’t be more thankful for that.
And after all the time it’s taken for Nate and me to be in the same room without him running away, I’m sure she’s feeling relieved.
However, I never wanted it to come down to the fact hecan’trun away.
“Sure, Daddy.” She gets up and, as she passes me, gives me a kiss on the cheek.
I slide my arms around her and hold her close.
I hate myself even more for the three years Nate and I didn’t speak.
Life is way too precious. It can change in the blink of an eye.
Thank god, I have a second chance.
She looks up at me. “You okay?”
She knows the answer to the question, but she’s trying to be a good daughter and acknowledge that I’m not just her dad, but a person with feelings.
I’m not going to burden her with them, though. “Yeah, I’m okay. You go on now.” I release her even when all I want is to have my arms around all my children from now on. That way, none of them can get hurt.
At least, that’s what any father hopes, I suppose.
Abigail leaves.
Then, it’s just Nate and me and the machines keeping him alive.
I go sit in Abigail’s chair and hold my hands between my knees because I have no idea what else to do with them. “I’m sorry, Nate.”
Nate’s eyes are closed. There are scratches down one of his cheeks. And his blond hair is scraggly on the pillow.
I reach over and gently smooth it out. Once, twice…I stroke his forehead. “I’m sorry for…for everything.”
I take his hand. It’s limp and tired. But I won’t let go.
