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How is it possible to love someone and feel so disappointed and let down by them?
“I’m proud of you. Of everything you've accomplished and how strong you are.” I don't doubt he means the words, but he doesn't know the half of what I've dealt with. And I know for a fact that the way we view the world is very, very different.
But his words from another time flow back into my mind. “Are you sure I didn’t turn out to be a disappointment? Or that mom was stupid not to terminate me?”
He winched, his features contorting in agony. “I deserve that.”
We’re silent for a moment, then he speaks, his voice sounding smaller and more frail than I ever remembered him sounding. “I love your mother more than life itself. When she died, I was angry that she left me to be a single father and raise you, even though I was an awful parent, and she was the one that had the ability to turn him into a good man.”
He never said anything so open and raw before, and I hear the ring of truth in his voice. “So you were angry at me that she died?” I’m not upset, merely curious.
“Son, I was mad at the world. The only reason I created this firm was out of sheer spite, because she didn't think it would be healthy for me, or that I'd be able to keep it going on my own. I was mad at her for dying, I was mad at you for relying on me and looking up to me, I was mad at the universe for taking such a shining light out of existence and leaving a scumbag like me still walking.” His voice cracks and turns to a pained, raw whisper. “It wasn’t fair.”
This is a side of him I’ve never seen before. And suddenly my whole life makes so much more sense.
“You have every right to hate me. What I did was unforgivable, and I'm not asking for your forgiveness; I just want to help you understand.” The way he's speaking so openly and honestly leaves me feeling like again, he thinks there's no way he's walking out of here.
While his explanation doesn't heal the deep wounds within me, it's definitely a Band-Aid that staunches the blow. “I was mad, too.” I can remember how angry I was that she died and left me with an absolute monster of me. Sure, he's mellowed out as I've grown up, but that doesn't undo - or even soften - any past.
“Thank you for explaining.” It means a lot to me that he's willing to reach out and help me really know the man, even the parts he sounds ashamed of.
“She was the best thing that ever happened to me and losing her was like being gutted.” He inhales a slow, shaky breath. “And you remind me so much of her, except with all my worst parts mixed in.”
Those words sting, but I completely understand what he means. I became the man that raised me, for better or for worse.
“I forgive you.” With those words, I feel the way of the world lift off my shoulders. I don't want to carry the weight of his hatred and resentment any longer. I want a chance for us to move forward on fresh, even ground.
“I don’t deserve that.” He sounds honest, though broken. “But if life gives me the chance, I’d like to try to do better moving forward. I can’t change the past, but I can work on our future.”
“I'd like that,” I say.
And just like that, even though things between us aren't fixed, I feel a lot less angry with him. If his actions speak as loud as his words moving forward, I will absolutely have no problem letting this man be a deeply ingrained part of my life.
Of all the things I expected, a heart-to-heart bonding moment where we talk about the past, apologize, forgive one another, and move forward absolutely was not one of them.
“If you manage to get the love of a good woman, don't ever let it go.” Dad sounds lost in thought.
“If I manage?” I ask, teasing him once again. It feels good to have this humorous relationship with him instead of our typical serious, coldly polite banter.
“That’s what I said,” he responds, a smile stretching across his face.
I think about Emma, wondering if he’d have the same advice knowing I want her. I doubt it. He loves her like the daughter he never had, and I doubt he’d ever think I measure up for her.
I wish she was here; I want nothing more than to give her a hug, inhale her sweet scent, feel her warmth.
“I need to make a call,” I say to my father before stepping out of the room.
I dial Emma’s number, but the call goes to voicemail. I don't blame her. She's probably upset at me; I was a Grade-A dick to her after we’d shared an amazing night together. I'm sure she feels used and cast aside like garbage, but nothing could be further from the truth.
When my phone rings and I see her name on the screen, I thank my lucky stars that she's called me back.
“Hello?” She sounds equal parts cautiously optimistic and afraid as she answers my call. “How is Anton?” I swear I can hear her holding her breath.
“On the mend, but not out of the woods. I wanted to apologize for being so out of sorts before.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. You have a lot going on.” The way she just brushes off my behavior almost bothers me. She deserves better.
“I owe you an apology. I feel bad for treating you that way. You deserve better.” There's no way I'm going to let her dodge my apology. “Can we spend some time together today?” I ask, thinking on my feet. I want to spend some quality time with her, and an idea is already forming in my mind.
