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Braden
I shift back and forth on my stupid butt pillow. Even with it, sitting on the floor is painful. The fracture in my pelvis is mostly healed, but everything is still stiff and achy. Harper giggles as she smacks over another block tower.
“Nice job.” I hold up my hand for a high five. She looks at it then bats at it before starting all over. She only ever stacks four or five blocks before knocking it over and laughing. Her favorite thing to do is to make us build huge towers and run at them.
My mom tilts her head as I shift again. “Honey, if you’re uncomfortable, sit back on the couch.”
“I’m fine.”
“You will make yourself hurt worse if you keep doing something that’s painful.”
“She’s still playing. I want to be able to play with her. I can barely hold her. I can’t pick her up. This is one thing I can actually do with her, so I don’t care if it hurts. I’m going to do it.”
Mom crawls over to me. “Honey—”
“Don’t. It’s my own fault. I did something stupid and dangerous, and I paid the price. Harper shouldn’t have to pay it, too.” Hot tears sting my eyes. I hate myself some days.
Harper crawls over, still giggling, and climbs on my lap. “Dada.”
I wipe my eyes with the back of my wrist and wrap my arms around her. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I’m sorry for all of it.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and nestles against my chest. But what the hell does she know? She’s a year old.
“She’s not going to remember this,” my mom says. “She’s going to remember the father you are to her from here on out.”
“Yeah, I guess.”But I’ll remember.
“Let’s all sit on the couch. I’ll make a snack in a few minutes,” Mom says, lifting onto the couch first.
Then she takes Harper so I can force myself up and onto the comfort of the couch.
“Not to add heaviness to what you’re already feeling, but I want to make sure your anger isn’t—”
“Just ask, Mom.”
“How are you feeling about Maia and Vince moving in together?”
Blowing out a breath, I look down at Harper, who is happily entertained by a unicorn stuffed animal. “I’m okay. It’s hard not to think about the fact that I was living there a year ago, but Maia and I are doing a lot better. So are Vince and I, honestly. And I’m happy for them. I’d be a lot happier if I felt like I could move forward with my own life.”
Mom reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You’ll get there. You might just need to accept some extra help now and then.”
“Even if I feel like I don’t deserve it.”
She shifts to look at me with her signature mom look. “You still deserve it. People make mistakes. Even bigger ones than you’ve made. We all deserve forgiveness. Patience. Grace. Peace. Believe that.”
Not so easy.
“I’ll try.”
“Good. Now, how about some ice cream?”
Harper’s head shoots up and her hands start doing her gimme-gimme grab. She’s ten seconds from the velociraptor screech.
“Better hurry,” I say to my mom. She laughs and heads for the kitchen as Harper slides off the couch and follows her.
I wish it was that easy for me. I push myself off the couch and make my way toward the kitchen, leaning on a cane. At least it’s not crutches.
My dad acts like I got off easy, and maybe in some ways I did, but struggling through the anger and guilt I have, along with my physical injuries, is not easy. Some days I want to scream and throw shit or just give up.
I watch Harper practically stick her head in the bowl of ice cream and feel a wave of determination.
I’m going to keep fighting because she deserves the best version of me I can be, the best dad I can be for her.
