We take a break, both drying our tears, taking some deep breaths. And then we talk. The camera’s back on, recording, and we cover things in detail. How lonely he was for years and years, since his childhood. He speaks about his parents, my grandparents, for the first time. I never met them, but he tells me how distant they were, how little he saw them after he moved to Scotland, how rarely they called one another.
Distance, again. Though it sounds like they had their share of problems before, distance surely exacerbated their issues.
I wonder, if I had grown up near my father, if we’d never left, or if he’d come with us, would our relationship have ended up in the same place? Would it have been slightly better?
I’ll never know, but he seems to think it played a role. And I do too.
A sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach, but I suppress it, focusing back on the interview.
He’s more open now that we’ve chiseled at the block betweenus, and he shares his first impression of Maggie. That she was magnetic, charming, unabashedly herself, making jokes with the nurses, even though there was a steady undercurrent of worry in her voice, of fear. He understood those aspects of her first, was drawn to them, but it was friendship that grew between them. It took a couple years before it became anything more.
I smile, already imagining how I’ll splice this footage together, a bit from Maggie, a bit from my father, their stories overlapping, mixed with some of the footage I took of our trip: scenery of the Highlands, the sheep, our car breaking down. I can see the entire pitch coming together in my mind.
We’re on our last question when the scent of biryani travels our way, warm and fragrant.
“Smells like it’s ready,” I say, turning off the recording, and the two of us head into the dining room, where Jacob’s already begun to serve the plates.
“All done?” he asks. He’s not wearing my favorite cardigan today, just a button-down shirt, but he’s rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, and I watch as he ladles rice out of the large dish in the center of the table.
“Yes,” my father says, then turns to me. “Unless you wanted to ask both of us questions together?”
“I do,” I say. “But we can do it after we eat.”
Jacob passes me one of the plates, the steam from the rice fogging up his new glasses. “Thanks,” I tell him, and his fingers slide against mine, the faintest caress, before he leaves my plate in my hand.
“And thanks to both of you,” I tell my father and Maggie. “For being open to doing this.”
“Of course,” Maggie says, grinning. “It was fun.”
Over dinner we talk about their time in Skye, how Jacob’s preparation for the semester is going, and when filming for the next season ofLove in the Sunis supposed to start.
“So, how are you both feeling about the wedding now that it’s only a couple days away?” Jacob asks.
Maggie lets out a laugh. “I can’t believe it’s so soon.” She smiles at me. “We can’t thank both of you enough. It’s been so nice not having to do any of the planning this time around.”
“It’s the least I could do,” I say.
My father clears his throat. “The park you sent, it looks nice.”
“It is,” Jacob says. “It’s beautiful. Hope you don’t mind we’re just doing dinner at the pub after. I know you said simple, but maybe that’s too simple?”
Maggie shakes her head. “No, that’s perfect. Exactly what we wanted.”
“I don’t know,” Jacob says, his expression warm. “If I had the option of eloping in Skye, like you did, I’d probably have taken it.”
And an image jumps in my mind. Jacob in a tux, at an altar. His brown eyes shining behind his glasses.
I take a sip of my water, feeling a little lightheaded.
“But then we wouldn’t be able to do it with you two,” Maggie says. “And that’s what we really want. We want it to just be family.”
She says it so simply, with a smile, but I hear the small note of pain in her voice, the grief that’s present even with her joy. My father watches her, his gaze tender, caring.
We continue eating, but it takes me some time to process. It’s only after we’re done, after we take our plates into the kitchen and head back into the living room to film one last time, that I realize what Maggie said.
This entire time, I’ve considered the three of them a trio, a family they created, one stronger than the blood that connects my father and me. But tonight, Maggie referred to me as part of it, and it didn’t stand out to me. It didn’t feel groundbreaking or sudden.
It just felt true.
