He shrugs. “Apparently, my dad had wanted to leave for a while, but waited until the beginning of my senior year. I was already locked into my college classes. I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t. At that point, I would have had to pay back my scholarship and I couldn’t afford to do that.”
“Wow. I’m really sorry.”
“It hit me hard, it was a nasty divorce. I’m not sure how I managed to pass that semester. I completely fell apart. Truthfully, I think my professors just felt sorry for me. I went from being a straight-A student to barely passing.”
“You know the old saying,” I say as I wipe at my brow, “‘C’s get degrees.’”
Graham nods. “Yeah, but I worked hard for my grades. I earned a high achiever’s scholarship that covered the majority of my tuition and books. It really helped my family out. I was the third kid in the family to go to college, so my parents were stressed about money.”
I can relate to that. Mom pushed me to do well in school, just like Graham’s parents obviously had. She had always talked about scholarships and setting myself up for success down the road. Her game plan was three steps ahead.
He continues. “I knew he obviously wasn’t happy if he’d been wanting to leave, but to end a twenty-year marriage like it’s nothing? And at the same time, what about me? I was just finding my footing as an adult. He derailed my life trying to change his. I almost flunked out, almost lost my scholarship. I know I can’t blame it all on my parents, but it really affected me. It was like my worst childhood fear come to life.”
He starts rolling the silverware more aggressively.
I can’t imagine the pain he must have felt watching his family be ripped apart by his father. I can, however, relate to the pain he felt watching his entire world crumble beneath him.
“I get it,” I say quietly, cutting more dough. “Trust me, I get it.” I place the last few on the baking sheet.
“I’m sorry that you do.”
We work in silence for a few moments, the air as thick as the dough between my hands.
“I have two older sisters,” he begins again, “but they have their own lives and families, so I was the only one still at home when it happened. Ginny, the oldest, is a teacher in Boston. She’s got two daughters, Melody and Cosette. I don’t get to see them as often as I’d like.”
“That can’t be easy,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Betty is in the medical field and just moved to Chicago a couple of years ago. They were as supportive as they could be, but it’s not the same as if they were here, in the thick of it.”
I understand what he means. People tried to be there for me when my mom died, but it felt like I was lost at sea and they were just waving at me from the shore, telling me to swim.
“It must be nice, though, having siblings,” I say. “I’m an only child so I can’t relate.”
“You know,” he says, leaning back on the stool as he works. “Growing up, I always wished I was an only child and thought my sisters were so annoying.”
I laugh. “Don’t all little brothers think that?”
Graham smiles and picks up more silverware. “Now, I’m grateful for them. I haven’t spoken to my father in years. It broke somethingin me when he left, and I just never got over it. I don’t know that I ever will.”
“Graham,” I say, “That’s a lot.”
“Sorry,” he shrugs. “I didn’t mean to dump all of that on you.”
I look up at him and for the first time, really look at him. I see a frightened little boy in man’s clothing, a child just aching for their parent. He wears his melancholy comfortably, hiding it the best he can behind a smile. Still, sadness lurks beyond his eyes. I can see the broken pieces, the jagged edges spewing every way, creating a fence around his heart to avoid any further hurt. Mostly, what I see is someone just wanting love.
“He moved a couple of towns over, the last I knew. My sisters still talk to him. He’s tried to get in contact with me a few times but I just can’t talk to him. Seeing how much pain he put my mom through…” he trails off.
“Not to mention all of the pain he putyouthrough.” I grab the baking tray and walk over to the oven, opening it. The hot air rushes out and blasts me in the face as I shove the tray in. I close the door and walk back to the counter, waiting for Graham to meet my eyes. “Hurting your spouse is one thing, but hurting your child is a different kind of low.”
He nods in agreement, as if to say I’ve made an excellent point. “And then, Mom got sick.”
I grab the timer I’d found earlier and set it, raising my eyebrows to urge him to continue.
“Severe spinal stenosis. Her spine was compressing a nerve that ran through her left leg. Her leg would go numb and just give out. It was so bad that she was falling all of the time, just at the drop of a dime. She was losing motor function rapidly. We thought she’d end up in a wheelchair before we finally found a doctor that would help her and do surgery.”
A pain goes through my heart at his words. My mom would have helped in any way she could in a situation like that. That’s the kind of person, and doctor, she was.
“So then, she had surgery and extensive physical therapy. I was there for all of it. I mean, I was theonlyone there for all of it. Ginny and Betty flew in for her surgery and stayed a few days after with us, but I was the one taking her to appointments and getting her to physical therapy and all of that.”
