Sitting in this house I love, with the man I love, I’m grateful.
“I had no idea he wrote this.” I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands. “When did you read it for the first time?”
“I opened it on your birthday the following year.”
My eyebrows jump. “Why then?”
“I needed to let some time pass, and get settled into college.” He hikes a shoulder. “Then it was your birthday, and I found myself looking up your social media accounts to see what you were up to. And then I remembered the letter.”
I lean my head on his shoulder as I stare down at my father’s words. “Thank you for bringing this to me. It means a lot to have this.”
“Of course, baby.”
My eyes flick to the picture frame sitting on my nightstand. “Who would’ve known we’d be here now?”
Landon’s chest rises and falls with his deep breath. “Life took us on a detour.”
“Still is.” I grumble as I shift to get comfortable against the headboard. “I really hope I don’t lose my job.”
“I don’t think you will.” Landon flops onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Too many people support you. You’ve done so much good at that school to let it all get taken away by some crazy parent.”
I really hope he’s right.
I wakeup in the middle of the night and slip out of bed without waking Landon.
Since being put on leave, I haven’t been able to sleep through the night. I toss and turn, waking from nightmares or strange dreams. The only thing that helps is going for a run.
I throw on a sweatshirt and shove my feet into my sneakers. Stepping out onto the porch, I close the door gently behind me.
“What are you doing up?”
My shoulders jump to my ears at the sound of Bernard’s gruff voice. “I could ask you the same thing.”
He rocks on his chair, Buddy lying at his feet. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Same.” I jog down the steps and cross the lawn to his porch. “What’s keeping you up?”
“I’m old. What’s your excuse?”
I lower myself onto the matching chair beside him, and lean back to rock. “I don’t know who I am without lacrosse.”
The words tumble out of me, not waiting for permission. Maybe I’m sleep-deprived, or maybe I miss my dad and need some advice from someone who has experienced life. Bernard has been here with quiet support for a long time. We don’t always have deep conversations, but we look out for each other. He’s like a crotchety old grandfather I never had.
“I’ve always been athletic, but I think I took it to the next level where it became my whole life.” Buddy shifts on the porch and moves to set his head in my lap. I mindlessly stroke his soft fur while I think. “I had to be the best. Play the hardest. Win every game.”
Bernard folds his hands on his rotund belly. “Who said you had to?”
I toy with one of Buddy’s floppy ears. “I guess I did. It made my father happy, you know? He loved watching me play, and it felt like we had something to connect us.”
“You wanted his attention,” Bernard says.
I roll my lips between my teeth as I nod. “I distracted him from missing my mother. Then it became my distraction from missing him.”
“And now what it is distracting you from?”
“Being alone.”
Bernard nods. “Losing your parents is hard. But you don’t have to be alone. That’s a choice only you make.”
