"I know," he says, and he's smiling, sad and proud all at once. "I've known for a while, son."
"I want to go to Chicago." I say it fast, before I can think about it again, before the logistics and the fear can talk me out of it.
"I want to follow her. I don't have a plan. I don't have anything figured out. I just know I can't be in this town without her and I can't let her be in that city without me."
His expression doesn't change. He just watches me, waiting for the rest.
"I know I'd be leaving you," I say, and this is the part that has kept me up every night for weeks. This is the wall I couldn't get past. My father, alone, in this house, in this workshop, with nobody to check on him in the mornings, nobody to buy the flowers, nobody to listen for the radio and make sure he's okay.
"Callahan." His voice is gentle, but firm. "You can go freely. I am not old. I am barely fifty-one, you overprotective idiot." A pause, and something almost mischievous flickers in his eyes. "I am younger than Brad Pitt."
I laugh. God, I needed that.
"I know that, Dad. I know. But I know what it would mean, and I don't know how to do this without hurting you."
His hand comes off my neck and both his palms settle on my shoulders, facing me square. The way he used to standwhen he was teaching me something important. When he wanted to make sure I was really listening.
"You are not hurting me." His voice is so sure. "You are making me very happy, knowing you made the right decision. You keep that girl. You support her every step of the way."
"I can't just go and be happy." I shake my head, feeling the familiar weight settle back into my shoulders. "I worry about you. I love living with you."
"I am so proud of you, Cal. I hope you know that." His grip tightens slightly. "The way you love, the way you want to stay with me. But that is not how life works."
"You're my dad. Why wouldn't it be how life works?"
"Because kids grow up and move on and out to live their life." It sounds so simple, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Have their own wife and children. You know that."
"But I didn't want a wife and children." The words come out before I can stop them. "I was happy to live here with you."
His smile shifts into something brighter, something that looks almost like hope. "Didn't? Does that mean you want now?"
The heat creeps into my cheeks.
"Yeah," I admit, not quite meeting his eye. "I want now."
He lets out a victorious sound. "That makes me and your mother very happy."
I frown at the mention of her, the way I always do when he talks about her like she's right there in the room with us.
"No." His voice sharpens immediately. "You stop that right now. I am not crazy, and I will see any doctor you want toprove that to you if that is what makes it easier for you to leave."
I've been carrying this for months, and there's no way to say it that won't hurt him.
"I think I need you to be checked out, Dad." I force myself to meet his eyes. "I am so sorry. But I worry, and if there was something wrong, I would never forgive myself for it."
"I will do it any time." He doesn't hesitate. "For you, I will do it tomorrow."
"I'm so sorry."
"I understand." His expression is understanding. "I would do the same."
"Yeah?"
"Of course. There is nothing to it." A small smile tugs at his mouth. "All they will find is a man still in love, Cal. No crazy."
We both laugh, and I nod. It might just be okay.
"So promise me you're going," he says.
