He shifts positions with a grimace of pain. “I made that mistake with your mother. When I first got diagnosed, I tried to handle everything alone. I didn't want to burden her with my problems, and I almost lost her because of it.”
“What changed?”
“She sat me down and told me that marriage means sharing the hard stuff, not just the good stuff, and that my pride was hurting her more than my illness ever could.” He shakes his head. “Hardest conversation I ever had. But it saved us.”
I process his words. I've spent so long being the strong one and the provider, but the fact is, I have real worries nagging at me.
“Take care of yourself. Not just your knee or your career. You spend so much time worrying about this family that you forget you're part of it too. You matter, Ethan. Not because of what you provide, but because of who you are. Promise me you'll remember that.”
“I promise.”
He studies my face for a moment, then nods with satisfaction. “Good. Now go tell your mother I'm ready to leave. If I have to eat one more cup of hospital Jell-O, I'm going to stage a revolt.”
I laugh despite the emotion clogging my chest. “Yes, sir.”
I stand and head for the door, then pause with my hand on the frame.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Ted drives with Bella in the passenger seat while my mother sits in the back with my father, fussing over every bump in the road. Lucy follows in her car with Natalie and me, providing a running commentary on Ted's driving that ranges from critical to outright insulting.
“He's going too slow,” she announces. “At this rate, Dad will be ready for his next hospital stay by the time we get home.”
“He's being careful,” I point out. “Dad just had surgery.”
“He's being a grandma. There's a difference.”
Natalie hides her laugh behind her hand.
When we finally pull into the driveway, everyone springs into action. Ted retrieves the wheelchair from the trunk while Bella supervises the transfer. My mother hovers anxiously until my father tells her to stop treating him like he's made of glass.
Lucy runs inside to make sure everything is ready.
I hang back and let them work. There are too many people helping already, and my father's patience for being fussed over is wearing thin. Once he's settled in his favorite spot in the living room, I pull my mother aside.
“Natalie and I are going to head out for a bit. Give you all some space.”
“Take her to the lake. It's beautiful this time of day,” she says.
“That's the plan.”
“Good.” She pats my cheek. “Your father and I will be fine. Bella is staying for dinner, and Lucy isn't going anywhere. Go enjoy yourself.”
I find Natalie in the kitchen, helping Lucy organize the medications the hospital sent home.
“Let's go for a drive.”
“Sure,” she says and grabs her jacket.
The lake is about fifteen minutes outside of town, down winding back roads that I could navigate with my eyes closed. I used to come here with my father when I was a kid, before his diagnosis, when he could still cast a fishing line and row a boat and do all the things fathers do with their sons.
Natalie is quiet beside me, giving me space to think. She's good at knowing when to push and when to let me be.
“He's home,” I finally say, breaking the silence.
