"So you actually came." His voice is rough, lacking the warmth I remember from childhood.
"Dad." I take a tentative step forward. "I came as soon as Mom called."
"Nine years too late."
The words hit like a slap. My mother's hand tightens on mine.
"Robert, please," she says softly. "She's here now. That's what matters."
"Is it?" He shifts in his recliner, wincing slightly. "Why did you bother coming back, Mia? Guilty conscience finally catch up with you?"
I swallow hard. "I wanted to see you. To talk to you."
"Talk." He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You didn't want to talk before you disappeared in the middle of the night. You didn't want to talk during all those years you were gone. But now that I'm dying, suddenly you want to talk?"
"That's not fair."
"Fair?" His voice rises, then breaks into a cough. My mother moves toward him but he waves her off. "You want to talk about fair? You left without a word. No explanation. No goodbye. Just a note that said nothing. Do you have any idea what that did to your mother? To me?"
Tears burn behind my eyes. "I had reasons."
"Reasons." He spits the word like it's poison. "What reasons could possibly justify abandoning your family? We gave you everything. A good home. A good education. We supported you in everything you wanted to do. And you repaid us by running away like we meant nothing to you."
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me." He leans forward, his eyes boring into mine. "Tell me what was so terrible that you had to leave in themiddle of the night and never come back. Tell me what we did that was so unforgivable."
I open my mouth but no words come out. How can I explain? How can I tell him that I left because I was pregnant with his best friend's baby? That I was terrified of destroying his friendship with Jack, of disappointing him, of watching everything fall apart?
"I can't," I whisper.
"Can't or won't?"
"Robert, that's enough." My mother's voice is firm. "She's here now. That should count for something."
"Should it?" He sits back, his expression bitter. "She threw away her future. She had a full scholarship to State. She could have done anything with her life. Instead, she disappeared and did what? Where have you been, Mia? What have you been doing all this time?"
"I've been teaching," I say quietly. "I got my degree. I have a job."
"Teaching." He shakes his head. "You could have taught here. You could have built a life here, near your family. But you chose to stay away."
"I had my reasons," I repeat, hating how weak it sounds.
"Your reasons." His jaw tightens. "Nothing justifies what you did. Nothing. You broke your mother's heart. You broke mine. And for what?"
The tears spill over now, hot tracks down my cheeks. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't fix it, Mia. Sorry doesn't give us back the time we lost."
"I know." My voice cracks. "I know it doesn't. But I'm here now. I want to try to make things right."
"Make things right." He laughs again, that same hollow sound. "How exactly do you plan to do that? I'm dying, Mia. Stage four pancreatic cancer. Six months, maybe less. You think a few visits before I die will make up for the silence?"
"I don't know." I wipe at my tears with shaking hands. "But I have to try."
He studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he waves his hand dismissively. "I'm tired. I need to rest."
"Robert," my mother protests.
